Chapter 39
Chapter 39
Veronica
I woke up groggy.
My eyes struggled to adjust as I stared up at the ceiling of my bedroom, the early morning light bleeding in through the slits of the curtain. For a second, I forgot where I was—what day it was—who I was supposed to be mad at.
Then it came rushing back. Last night. The carnival. The radioactive duck I’d tossed into the backseat like it personally betrayed me. Dante’s grip on my wrist. His voice—low, commanding, drenched in entitlement.
“Stay away from Lorenzo.”
I sat up too fast, regretting it instantly as the dull ache behind my eyes pulsed.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I didn’t move.
It buzzed again. This time longer. A call.
I reached over, still half tangled in the sheets, and stared at the screen.
Lorenzo.
Of course.
I let it ring. Let it buzz until it stopped and the silence flooded back in.
Then I stood and moved through the room on autopilot, pulling on a loose T-shirt and sweats. I needed coffee. A distraction. Anything that wasn’t thinking about how easily I’d let Dante get to me. Again.
An hour later, I arrived at Russo Group.
I hadn’t expected to be reassigned to headquarters, but the email had come in late yesterday—effective immediately. I was now under the direct supervision of Dante Russo.
Which meant he was now the one in charge of anything and everything concerning me—professional or otherwise.
As I walked through the tall glass doors, I found myself praying. Not to God exactly, but to whoever handled universal timing. Just let the week fly by. Let it blur into a forgettable mess and pass quickly enough to put distance between us.
That prayer barely left my lips before it was crushed.
“You’re needed with Mr. Russo,” a male staff said, approaching me the second I passed reception. “He’s waiting.”
My steps slowed as I made my way to the top floor, unease curling tight in my stomach. I was already bracing myself—half dreading, half expecting some passive-aggressive remark. Anything to remind me of his demanding tone.
But when I stepped into his office, it wasn’t what I expected.
He didn’t bother looking up, face buried down. A tablet lay before him, fingers scrolling smoothly as if I hadn’t just walked into the room after slamming his door in his face twelve hours ago.
“You’ll be working on the Monteverdi portfolio,” he didn’t look up.“The files are already in your inbox. Review them, compile a client proposal, and deliver a working outline before the end of the day.”
I blinked.
He finally looked at me, expression still frustratingly blank.
“If you have questions, take them to Lara. Dismissed.”
Dismissed?
That was it?
I stood there, stunned, caught somewhere between insult and confusion. I hadn’t expected warmth—God no—but I hadn’t expected to be brushed off like a stranger either.
Still, I turned on my heel and left.
Not a single word was exchanged about the carnival.
I took the elevator in silence though my mind reeling.
But I wasn’t.
After that, we didn’t cross paths again. He stayed in his office calling Lara for assistance when he needed and the day went by.
By noon he finally left his office heading straight for the lot and I couldn’t help but follow behind.
By the time I made it to the parking lot, he was already nearing his car, his driver waiting a few feet away. I quickened my pace, irritation burning through my chest like acid.
“Dante!”
He stopped, hand on the door handle. But he didn’t turn.
I walked right up behind him. “What is your problem?”
That made him turn.
Slowly.
His expression didn’t shift. That same unreadable mask. But his eyes—they flickered. Just slightly. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I folded my arms, jaw tight. “Why have you been acting like I don’t exist? I’m the intern, right? Then why are you using Lara to run all your errands when I’m right here?”
His jaw flexed, and I hated how I noticed. How even his silence felt like some kind of restraint.
“I gave you a portfolio to manage.”
“And I’ve been done with that since morning.”
His gaze held mine.
“What are you playing at now?” I asked, “You want space? Fine. You want professionalism? Great. But don’t pretend I’m invisible just because I didn’t fall in line last night.”
He stepped closer, not enough to be inappropriate—but enough that I could feel the shift in the air. The control he wore like a second skin. “I’m not playing at anything.”
“Then what is this?”
“I listened to you yesterday. You said you don’t have to listen to me. That you’ll do whatever you want. I’m honoring that.”
I stilled.
“You don’t have to worry about my controlling tone anymore,” he added. “After your two-week internship, you’ll be transferred out. Somewhere that isn’t under my jurisdiction.”
His words shook my bones.
I didn’t know what I’d expected but not him stepping back so… cleanly. Like he could cut it all off without a second thought.
So why did it hurt?
“Oh,” I said, forcing my arms to drop. “Well. Great. That’s exactly what I wanted.”
“Good,” he said simply, opening the car door.
I swallowed the sudden knot in my throat. “I hope she enjoys running your errands.”
His eyes flicked back to me, and this time there was a shadow of something in them. Regret? Frustration or even amusement? It vanished too quickly to tell.
He just got in the car, the door shutting with a heavy thud.
And I stood there, in the middle of the parking lot, watching him leave like I hadn’t just lit myself on fire trying to get his attention.
Like I hadn’t hoped stupidly,that maybe he’d fight me just a little harder.
I ran a hand through my hair, turning slowly back toward the building. But before I could make it past the second row of parked cars, my phone buzzed.
Once.
Then again.
I pulled it out.
Lorenzo:
Hey, just wondering… would you be up for ice cream this weekend? Maybe that place near the river? P.S. It’s a date
I stared at the message. An ice cream and shy smiley face emoji attached to it.
I typed back a simple sure, hitting the send button before I could second guess it.
Dante Russo didn’t own me.
And now he’d made it clear.