The city had always seemed like a dream from afar—skyscrapers that touched the clouds, streets that never slept, lights brighter than stars. For Elena and Goldie, stepping into their new apartment felt like crossing the invisible line between their old lives and something altogether new.
The company driver dropped them off at a tall glass building not far from Marino Enterprises. Elena clutched her worn bag close, her heart pounding. She half expected someone to laugh, to tell them it was all a mistake.
But the key in her trembling hand slid perfectly into the lock, and the door opened.
Gasps escaped both girls at once.
The apartment was small compared to the luxurious flats Elena had only seen in magazines, but to them, it was a palace. White walls, polished wooden floors, a sofa that looked untouched, a kitchen with gleaming counters. There were two bedrooms, each with crisp sheets and wardrobes already prepared.
Goldie spun around in the middle of the living room, laughing with delight. "Elena! Look at this! Look at the view!" She darted to the window, pulling the curtains aside. The city stretched endlessly, cars like silver ants crawling through the streets, neon signs blinking.
Elena stood frozen near the door, her eyes wide. She touched the wall, the counter, the bed—half afraid it would all vanish.
"It feels like we're in someone else's life," she whispered.
Goldie flopped onto the sofa dramatically. "No, my dear, this is our life now! Thanks to your mysterious admirer."
Elena's face flushed. "Goldie!"
"What?" Goldie grinned mischievously. "You saw the way he looked at you. Like you were the only person in that whole building. Don't even try to deny it."
Elena turned away, her chest tightening. She didn't want to believe it. It was impossible. Men like him—powerful, rich, feared—didn't notice girls like her. And yet… she couldn't shake the memory of his eyes, dark and intent, as though they'd known her for a long time.
That night, the girls cooked a simple meal—rice and stew bought with the little money they had left. They ate cross-legged on the floor, laughing at nothing and everything, their voices echoing in their new home. For the first time in years, Elena felt something unfamiliar blooming in her chest.
Hope.
---
The next morning, the company car returned for them. At work, whispers followed Elena through the halls. People looked at her differently now—not as a poor girl from the countryside, but as someone under the mysterious protection of Vincenzo Marino.
The manager's glares burned into her back, but he said nothing. Not after what had happened in the lobby.
Late in the afternoon, as Elena was organizing files in the reception area, a tall man in a tailored suit approached. He was one of Vincenzo's assistants, his expression unreadable.
"Elena Rossi?" he asked.
She froze, clutching the stack of papers tighter. "Yes?"
"The CEO requests your presence. Now."
Her heart jumped into her throat. She glanced at Goldie, who mouthed excitedly, Go! Go! before shoving her gently toward the elevator.
The ride up felt endless. The numbers blinked higher and higher until the doors slid open to reveal the top floor. The air here felt different—quieter, heavier, as if the walls themselves held secrets.
Elena followed the assistant through glass corridors until they reached a door of frosted glass etched with gold letters: V. Marino.
The assistant knocked once, then opened the door. "She's here, sir."
Elena stepped inside.
The office was vast, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. A massive desk stood near the center, papers arranged neatly, a decanter of whiskey glinting amber in the light. Behind it sat Vincenzo Marino.
No mask.
Only him.
He looked up as she entered, his dark eyes locking onto hers with quiet intensity. For a moment, neither spoke. Elena's breath caught in her throat.
"You may leave us," Vincenzo said to his assistant. The door clicked shut. Silence stretched.
Finally, he leaned back in his chair, studying her as though she were a puzzle. "Do you like the apartment?"
Elena swallowed. "Yes, sir. It's… more than we deserve."
One brow arched slightly. "More than you deserve? Or more than you expected?"
She flushed, fumbling for words. "I only mean… we're grateful."
A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "Gratitude is rare in this city. Hold onto it."
Elena nodded, unsure of what else to say. Her hands twisted together nervously.
Vincenzo rose from his chair, moving toward the window. He stood tall, hands in his pockets, the city sprawling below him like an empire he controlled. When he spoke again, his voice was lower.
"I didn't bring you here to lecture you. I want to see how you work. Tomorrow, you will assist me directly. Small tasks. Nothing complicated." His eyes flicked back to her. "Do you think you can manage that?"
Her heart raced. Work for him? In his office? She forced herself to nod. "Yes, sir."
For a moment, his gaze softened, almost imperceptibly. Then he dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "That will be all."
Elena turned to leave, her legs shaky. As she reached the door, his voice stopped her.
"Elena."
She looked back.
Vincenzo's eyes held hers, steady and unreadable. "Don't be late tomorrow."
Her lips parted, but no words came. She nodded and slipped out of the office, her heart hammering.
When she returned downstairs, Goldie practically tackled her with questions. "What happened? What did he say? Did he smile? Did he—"
Elena pressed a hand to her chest, still feeling the weight of his gaze. "Goldie… I'm going to work for him. Directly."
Goldie's scream of excitement echoed through the staff room, while Elena stood still, her thoughts tangled in fear and wonder.
Because this was no longer about just finding work.
This was stepping into his world.
And something deep inside her whispered that once she entered, there would be no turning back.