Antonio's POV
I giggled like a teenager in love. Am I in love? I'm not sure yet — not until I spend more time with her. But honestly… I crave her presence. I want her attention. I know the signs of love, and I can feel myself falling for Sofia.
Even though I barely know her, I want to know everything: what makes her smile, laugh, happy, or sad. I want to protect this incredible angel from anyone who might hurt her.
I go home with a smile lingering on my face, the kind I haven't felt in a long time. For the first time in a while, I feel peaceful. I take a long, hot bath, then slip into gray sweatpants and a white shirt before letting sleep claim me.
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Sofia's POV
This isn't me. I don't give people smart responses, and I don't usually get irritated. Yet, Antonio gets under my skin in ways I don't understand. I know my replies were unprofessional. I should have been friendly — after all, we need each other professionally. But I couldn't stop myself. I acted like a rude brat.
He was right: we needed to know each other better.
The day passed quickly. By evening, Sandra left, and I was still in my office, sorting paperwork, when a soft knock interrupted me.
"Come in," I called.
And there he was — walking in like an Egyptian god. Handsome, imposing, confident. His presence filled the room before he even spoke. Antonio held a box of chocolates in one hand and roses in the other.
I raised an eyebrow. Roses? Chocolates? This isn't common in Liberia. Surely, he had them ordered, or maybe grown on a private estate — after all, he's a billionaire.
"It's just my way of apologizing," he said smoothly, walking toward my desk.
I took the items, placing the roses carefully in a vase. The water I fetched from the bathroom moments ago caught their petals perfectly. The chocolates I tucked into my drawer.
Antonio moved with the ease of a man used to commanding attention. He didn't just sit — he perched on the couch like a king on his throne. The room, my office, felt momentarily smaller, as if it belonged to him.
I grabbed my blazer and bag, approaching him. Without warning, he took my hand. Odd, yet I didn't pull away. I allowed it. I couldn't explain why, but something about it felt… right.
We walked to the elevator together. His pace slowed slightly to match mine, and I found myself liking it. My steps felt lighter with his hand in mine, and the warmth of him pressed against my palm sent a small thrill up my arm.
The doors closed, enclosing us in the elevator. He still held my hand.
"Where are we going?" I asked, curiosity creeping into my voice, a flutter of anticipation in my chest.
Author's Note
For everyone who has reached this far in this book I really appreciate you.
What are your thoughts?
Kindly share, and vote.
In the pervious chapter I mentioned something about "church house rat"
It's the terms used in Liberia to describe how poor a person is.
We all know that in the church the only things rats have access to are books, papers and benches. You barely find food in the church like a house. So that's how we describe extremely poor people.
Xoxo
Bella.