The days passed in a rhythm Elena was still learning to navigate. Every morning, she sat at her desk outside Vincenzo's office, her fingers gliding over the keyboard, her eyes scanning papers with careful precision. And every day, she felt his gaze.
Sometimes it was subtle, a glance from behind the glass wall. Other times it lingered, dark and thoughtful, as though he were memorizing the lines of her face.
It unsettled her. It thrilled her. It terrified her.
But not everyone looked at Elena with admiration.
Among the women in Marino Enterprises, one name carried weight: Amara Deluca. Elegant, sharp, and ambitious, Amara had been at Vincenzo's side for years as his event coordinator. She knew his schedule, his habits, the way his mind worked. And though Vincenzo had never once confirmed her assumptions, Amara had convinced herself that it was only a matter of time before she became more than his trusted employee.
Then Elena Rossi appeared.
The countryside girl with simple dresses and shy smiles. The one he had chosen to sit closer to him than anyone else.
Jealousy twisted through Amara's veins like poison.
---
It happened on a Friday afternoon. The office was buzzing with preparations for a major client dinner. Papers rustled, phones rang, and footsteps echoed hurriedly through the halls.
Elena was carrying a tray of files toward Vincenzo's office when Amara intercepted her.
"Careful with those," Amara said smoothly, her smile tight. "They're very important. Wouldn't want to make a mistake, would you?"
Elena gave a polite nod. "Of course. Excuse me, I need to—"
But before she could finish, Amara stepped closer. Too close. The next second, Amara stumbled dramatically, grabbing at Elena's arm before both of them tumbled. Elena hit the polished floor with a painful thud, the files scattering like fallen leaves. Amara landed just beside her, letting out a sharp cry.
"Oh!" Amara clutched her wrist, her voice rising in false panic. "She pushed me! Elena pushed me!"
Heads turned instantly. The busy office froze. Whispers erupted.
Elena's eyes widened. "What? No—I didn't! She—"
But Amara's crocodile tears fell, staining her perfectly applied makeup. "I was only trying to pass, and she shoved me! Look at my wrist, it hurts—"
The air shifted. Heavy, commanding footsteps approached.
Vincenzo Marino.
He stopped before the scene, his shadow falling over them. His eyes swept over the scattered files, the trembling Elena, and the weeping Amara.
"Elena," he said first, his voice steady.
Elena's throat tightened. She wanted to scream her innocence, but the words caught. All she could do was shake her head, her eyes wide and pleading.
Amara reached toward him with her uninjured hand. "Signore Marino, I don't understand why she would—"
But before she could finish, Vincenzo moved.
He bent, not toward Amara, but toward Elena. His hand extended, strong and steady.
"Come."
Elena blinked up at him, stunned. Slowly, she placed her trembling hand into his. His grip closed around hers, firm and protective. He pulled her to her feet with ease, his other hand brushing a strand of hair from her face.
The office gasped.
Without a single glance at Amara, Vincenzo turned, still holding Elena's hand, and led her toward his office. The door shut behind them with a decisive click, leaving a stunned silence outside.
---
Inside, Elena's heart pounded so hard she thought he might hear it. Vincenzo released her hand gently, his eyes studying her.
"Did you push her?" he asked. His tone was not accusing, only calm.
"No," Elena whispered fiercely. "I swear I didn't. She—she pretended. She grabbed me and fell on purpose."
His gaze lingered on her face, as though weighing every word. Then, with a slow nod, he turned toward the window.
"I know," he said simply.
Elena's lips parted. "You… believe me?"
"I don't need to believe," Vincenzo replied. "I see." He looked back at her, his expression unreadable but his eyes softer than she had ever seen. "Amara has played her games for years. She forgets that nothing escapes me."
Relief washed over Elena so strongly her knees nearly buckled. But beneath it, a dangerous warmth bloomed. He hadn't just defended her in front of everyone. He had chosen her—again.
She lowered her gaze, her cheeks flushed. "Thank you, sir."
Vincenzo stepped closer, the space between them charged. His hand brushed against hers briefly, not by accident but with deliberate care.
"You don't need to thank me, Elena," he murmured. "Just… don't let their jealousy break you. This place is full of snakes. Walk carefully."
Her heart fluttered, trapped between fear and something far sweeter.
For a moment, silence stretched, the city lights glimmering beyond the glass. Then Vincenzo returned to his desk, his tone shifting back to business. "Sit. Organize these files for me."
Elena obeyed, her fingers trembling as she worked. Yet no matter how hard she tried to focus, her thoughts raced.
Because outside that office, the whispers of envy were growing louder.
And inside, the bond between her and the man behind the mask was deepening in ways neither could ignore.