The morning came too quickly.
Alina hadn't slept much. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face — cold, unreadable, and far too composed for someone who controlled her future.
Now, standing in front of a mirror in the guest room, she adjusted the plain white shirt one of the housemaids had given her. Everything about this place screamed luxury — marble floors, gold accents, chandeliers that looked like they could buy a small apartment.
She didn't belong here.
A knock came at the door.
It was a woman — maybe in her thirties, with sharp eyes but a kind smile.
"Good morning, Miss Hart. I'm Clara, Mr. Romano's housekeeper," she said. "Breakfast is served at eight. Mr. Romano doesn't like lateness."
Alina nodded quietly. "Thank you."
When she walked into the dining room, she almost stopped. The table was long enough to seat twenty people, yet only one man sat there — Dario Romano, dressed in a crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, reading the morning paper as if the world revolved around his schedule.
He didn't look up when she entered.
"Sit," he said simply.
Alina obeyed, sitting across from him. The smell of fresh coffee filled the air, but she couldn't bring herself to eat.
Finally, he set down the paper. "Clara will show you your duties today. You'll assist with errands, paperwork, and household management when needed. You'll also help me with… certain personal tasks."
Her heart skipped. "Personal tasks?"
His lips curved slightly. "Relax, Miss Hart. I'm not a monster. You'll handle calls, schedules, some meetings — nothing inappropriate. Unless you make it so."
She glared at him. "You enjoy scaring people, don't you?"
Dario's expression softened for a fraction of a second — so fast she almost missed it. "People rarely take me seriously unless they're scared."
"Maybe that's because you choose fear over respect," she muttered under her breath.
He leaned back, studying her with quiet amusement. "And you choose courage over self-preservation. Interesting."
The room fell silent again.
When she finally looked up, she found his gaze still on her — intense, unblinking, like he was trying to read every thought she wasn't saying.
She looked away first.
"Breakfast is over," he said. "Clara will take it from here."
As Alina followed the housekeeper out, her chest tightened. Every part of her wanted to hate him — his arrogance, his power, his control — but somewhere deep down, she couldn't ignore what she saw in his eyes.
Loneliness.
The kind that mirrored her own.