Elena sat at her desk, her hands trembling slightly as she arranged the morning files. The sting from Amara's slap had faded, but the memory of it lingered. More than that, the memory of Vincenzo's hand wrapped around hers as he pulled her out of the chaos replayed in her mind over and over.
Her heart betrayed her, thundering in her chest. She reminded herself he was her boss—the CEO. A man feared and respected across the city. A man worlds apart from a poor countryside girl like her. And yet… he had chosen her. Defended her.
Goldie, who sat across the small desk beside her, leaned closer and whispered, "You're staring at those papers like they stole your lunch."
Elena flushed. "I—I'm just tired."
Goldie smirked knowingly. "Tired, or thinking about a certain someone dragging you away like a knight in a tailored suit?"
"Goldie!" Elena hissed, but her best friend only grinned wider, clearly delighted.
Before Elena could argue further, the office door swung open and Mr. Caruso, Vincenzo's long-time assistant, stepped out. Everyone froze, as they always did when the man appeared—because where Caruso walked, the CEO's will followed.
"Elena Rossi," he called firmly, his deep voice cutting through the room.
Elena's heart skipped. "Y-Yes?"
Caruso's expression softened, but only slightly. "The boss has requested you come into his office immediately."
A murmur rippled through the room. Jealous eyes darted toward her, whispers beginning before Elena even rose from her chair. Goldie squeezed her hand under the desk. "Chin up," she whispered. "Show them you belong here."
Swallowing her nerves, Elena stood and followed Caruso. The heavy oak doors opened, and she stepped inside.
Vincenzo was at his desk, as always. But this time, he wasn't buried in papers or on the phone. He was leaning back in his chair, watching her enter with that unreadable gaze that made her both nervous and warm inside.
"Sit," he said simply, motioning to the chair across from him.
She obeyed quietly, her palms pressed together in her lap.
There was a moment of silence, broken only by the distant hum of the city outside the glass walls. Finally, Vincenzo spoke.
"Have you eaten today?"
Elena blinked in surprise. "I—I had bread this morning."
His brows furrowed. "That isn't enough." He picked up the phone on his desk. "Caruso, get her something from Trattoria Bianca. Lunch. And make sure they send pistachio gelato as well."
Elena's eyes widened. "M-Mr. Marino, you don't need to—"
But he cut her off with a glance. "It wasn't a suggestion."
Her breath caught. The room was suddenly too warm, too quiet. He had just ordered lunch for her as though it was the most natural thing in the world. As though she wasn't just another employee but someone who mattered.
She lowered her eyes. "Thank you… sir."
Vincenzo's gaze softened at the word. "You work hard. You deserve to be taken care of."
Her cheeks flushed. She wanted to say more, but her voice failed her.
A knock came, and Caruso returned, placing a neatly wrapped bag on the table. "Your lunch, signorina."
The aroma of fresh pasta and bread filled the office. And tucked carefully inside, as promised, was a small cup of pistachio gelato. Elena's eyes lit up despite herself. She hadn't tasted ice cream in years—not since a traveling cart had passed through her village when she was a child.
Goldie had once told her her laughter could brighten even the darkest day. Now, it bubbled up uncontrollably as she dipped the spoon into the gelato. "It's… it's perfect."
The sound of her laugh washed over Vincenzo like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. His lips curved slightly—not the cold, polite smile the world knew, but something rare, something only Elena seemed to bring out of him.
"You like it," he said quietly, almost to himself.
Elena nodded eagerly, forgetting for a moment the weight of his presence. "I love it."
A knock broke the spell. Another secretary peeked in, her eyes narrowing when she spotted Elena eating lunch in the CEO's office. "Sir, the board meeting is in twenty minutes."
"I know," Vincenzo replied curtly.
The woman's eyes flicked once more to Elena before she left, the jealousy clear. As the door shut, Elena shifted uncomfortably. "I… I think people will misunderstand, Mr. Marino. Me being here like this…"
"Let them misunderstand," Vincenzo said firmly. He leaned forward, his gaze locking with hers. "You owe them nothing. Do you understand?"
Her lips parted, but no words came. Something in his tone left no room for doubt.
For the rest of the lunch, he didn't work, didn't take calls—he simply watched her enjoy the food, as if her happiness was his meal. And though Elena tried to tell herself it was just kindness, just the gesture of a generous boss… her heart whispered another truth entirely.
When she finally left the office, carrying the last bite of gelato with her, every pair of eyes in the workplace burned holes into her back.
Goldie, waiting at her desk, grinned. "Well? What happened?"
Elena could only shake her head, her cheeks glowing. "He… he ordered me lunch."
The words were simple. But in them lay the beginning of something far more complicated—and far more dangerous.