Chapter 52
Isabella took a deep breath and smiled, saying, "Thanks, Laura. I'd like to take a look around by myself first."
She turned back to Laura with a smile, "If you've got something to do, feel free to go ahead."
"Alright," Laura nodded understandingly, "When you're done exploring, come to the lounge. Our afternoon tea starts at three, and we've got a special tiramisu prepared today."
The door closed silently behind her.
Isabella stood in the center of the new office, looking around.
She walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the entire city, her fingertips brushing against the cool glass.
Outside, the sunlight of Lumaria bathed the golden roofs of ancient buildings, while the distant Lunaire Sea shimmered with cobalt blue waves.
On a whim, she turned and walked toward the glass wall, pushing open the door to Vitale's office.
His space was filled with the familiar scent of cigars and leather.
Isabella stopped in front of the massive mahogany desk, her gaze falling on the antique leather armchair where Vitale often sat.
Her heartbeat quickened.
She walked around the desk, her fingers lightly tracing the back of the chair before she sat down.
The leather creaked slightly under her weight, enveloping her with Vitale's lingering warmth and scent.
She had sat in this spot countless times.
But always on Vitale's lap.
Memories flooded back.
Right here in this chair, Isabella had straddled Vitale with her legs apart, his strong arms gripping her waist, each thrust blurring her senses.
He would always lean in close, his lips brushing her ear, and whisper in a low, husky voice, "Look out the window, Isabella. The whole city is at our feet."
Her hand unconsciously slid to her thigh, touching the sensitive area through her nude stockings.
Just then, clear voices of conversation came from outside the door.
Isabella snapped out of it, jumping up from the chair as if burned.
She hurriedly smoothed her skirt and shirt, muttering under her breath, "Damn it."
Her cheeks were already burning hot.
In the hallway, a crowd was heading toward the meeting room.
Isabella took a few deep breaths, making sure she looked professional again before stepping out.
The meeting room was already packed with over twenty people, their chatter mixed with various languages.
As Isabella walked in, several gazes openly sized her up, and a few stifled laughs came from the corner.
It was Judy and her little clique.
Isabella was about to head to her seat when she felt a familiar warm breath on the back of her neck.
"When did you start working as a doorman?"
Vitale's deep voice rang out, and Isabella froze. As she instinctively turned, her high heel twisted under her.
Just as she was about to fall, a strong arm steadied her by the waist.
The meeting room went silent in an instant.
All eyes were on them.
Vitale held Isabella by the waist, their closeness almost intimate.
Isabella quickly pushed him away and practically fled the room.
Damn it, damn it, damn it!
Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of her chest.
She needed to tell Vitale she was still mad at him. She shouldn't have been drawn in by his scent, shouldn't have touched herself without thinking. She must look ridiculous.
Vitale stood in place, his eyes following her as she escaped, before slowly turning back to the meeting room.
When his blue eyes swept over the crowd, the temperature seemed to drop.
"Continue." he said, just one word, but it made everyone lower their heads.
In the lounge, Laura was pouring coffee into a cup. Seeing Isabella's flushed cheeks, she asked in surprise, "Goodness, what's wrong with your face? Did you see Mr. Luca?"
"I did," Isabella patted her burning cheeks, trying to keep her voice steady, "He said I should be a doorman. How could I be a doorman? That's ridiculous."
She paused, then added, "Of course, I don't want to see him."
"Did you two have a fight?" Laura picked up on something.
"No, he's just too strict." Isabella mumbled, avoiding the topic. She didn't want Laura to know about those late-night moments, the breathless phone calls, or the secret codes only the two of them understood.
Laura nodded with understanding, "I thought I was the only one who found Mr. Luca intimidating. I was terrified during my interview. What about you? Were you scared during yours?"
Isabella's thoughts drifted back to that life-changing afternoon.
Vitale sat at the head of the conference table, his gaze like a scalpel, peeling her apart layer by layer.
He had said in front of everyone, "You're the woman I've chosen." making her body react uncontrollably under his stare, her skin beneath the stockings growing warm and sensitive.
"Yes," she replied softly, "he was very hard on me. I was a bit scared."
Laura laughed and clinked her cup with Isabella's, "Hope we don't have too much work today. I can't handle it."
Isabella nodded, "Yeah, I just want to get off work early."
But the afternoon workload came crashing in like a tidal wave.
Isabella had been keeping up with Vitale's pace all day—from the 8 a.m. strategy meeting, to the business lunch with clients at noon, to the afternoon negotiations with local contractors.
She sorted files in the car, took notes in hotel suites, and presented data in meeting rooms.
Even back at the office, overtime became the norm.
Though Isabella's office was right next to Vitale's, there were always people coming in and out—delivering documents, getting signatures, reporting updates.
Their looks—curious, jealous, or judgmental—felt like spotlights on her.
What unsettled her most was how professional and distant Vitale was at work.
He gave instructions in a detached tone, his sharp gaze cold as ice, as if the man who whispered to her at night was just an illusion.
That is, until she saw Vitale talking with Judy.
In the afternoon, Judy came into the office to report on a PR plan.
Vitale leaned back in his chair, relaxed, even flashing a rare smile when Judy made a witty remark.
That natural interaction felt like a tiny needle piercing Isabella's heart.
She told herself there was nothing to be jealous of.
She had work to do, reports to write, calls to answer.
But her thoughts kept drifting to the other side of the glass wall.
What were they talking about?
Why was it taking so long?
By the time overtime ended, it was already 9 p.m.
Isabella packed up her things, instinctively waiting for Vitale.
His apartment was just downstairs. They could've gone back together, like so many nights before, sharing a kiss in the elevator and saying goodbye at his door.
But Vitale's office door stayed shut.
Judy hadn't left either.
Isabella was asked to leave the inner office and had to wait in the reception area outside.
She fiddled with her phone out of boredom until she heard familiar footsteps behind her.
She turned around with a cheerful smile, only to freeze when she saw who it was.
"You're still here?" Laura walked in, her face flushed, turning to someone behind her, "I told you Isabella would be working late."
Simon stepped out from behind Laura, his look surprising Isabella.
Black leather jacket, silver earring, and an over-the-top gemstone ring on his hand—completely different from the formal suit he wore last time.
He reminded her so much of Vitale when she first met him.
Dangerous, mysterious, and full of intensity.
Over the past few days, while working with Vitale on deals, Isabella had met plenty of mafia members.
They seemed to follow some kind of dress code.
Expensive tailored suits, subtle but insanely pricey accessories, and eyes that could see through anything.
But Vitale was different.
He was cleaner, more refined. The Patek Philippe on his wrist gleamed coldly under the lights.
When he stood there, he was power itself.