Natalia stood in front of the mirrored doors of Valente Tower, adjusting the collar of her shirt for the fifth time. Her reflection looked a little less terrified today. Not much, but enough. She’d barely slept, but her body was running on adrenaline and caffeine. The echo of his voice haunted her all night.
> “You belong to me now.”
It wasn’t just a statement. It was a warning—and a promise.
She made her way up to the 57th floor again, this time five minutes early. The same red-lipped assistant from yesterday offered no smile, just nodded toward the corner office. Natalia walked with her head high. No hesitation.
She knocked once.
“Come in,” came the voice.
She stepped inside and found Darian Valente standing at the wide window again, his hands in his pockets, his back to her. He looked like he hadn’t moved since yesterday, still dressed in his dark suit, still radiating calm authority like he breathed it.
“You’re early,” he said without turning.
“You said you don’t tolerate lateness.”
His head tilted slightly. “Smart girl.”
He finally turned, eyes skimming over her, pausing at the way her shirt tucked neatly into her skirt. His gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary—but she didn’t flinch.
“Sit.”
The chair today was different—no longer across from his desk. A smaller desk had been arranged beside his. Close. Too close.
“You’ll be working in my office for now,” he said. “Shadowing. Observing. And when I say move, you move. No delays. No questions unless permitted.”
Her mouth went dry, but she nodded. “Understood.”
He sat down, pulling up files on a sleek monitor. “Let’s see how fast you really are.”
For the next two hours, she was tested—thrown into reading contracts, drafting summaries, and answering questions without warning. Every time she hesitated, he noticed. Every time she got something right, he said nothing. But his silence wasn’t cruel. It was calculated.
Then suddenly—
“You missed a clause,” he said, his voice cutting into the air like a whip.
She blinked. “Page twenty-four?”
“Page seventeen. Paragraph four. Termination rights. A trap clause.”
Natalia scanned the screen, her pulse quickening.
He stood and walked over to her, placing his hand on the desk beside her arm. His voice dropped.
“You were distracted.”
“No, I—”
His face was close. “Don’t lie to me, Miss Rivers. Not on your second day.”
She turned slightly to face him, their proximity too intimate for an office. His scent—clean, masculine, faintly spiced—wrapped around her like heat.
“I wasn’t lying,” she said quietly.
“You were staring.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
Their eyes locked. The tension tightened, pulled taut like a bowstring between them. Her skin prickled. Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Then… he smiled. Not kindly. Not cruelly. Just enough to say I know exactly what I’m doing to you.
“Interesting,” he whispered.
He straightened, pulling away from her warmth, returning to his desk as though nothing had happened. “We’re having dinner tonight.”
She blinked. “We?”
“A client dinner. La Lumière. Seven o’clock. Formal.”
“I didn’t bring anything—”
“Wear red,” he said, already focused back on his screen. “It suits you.”
She stood slowly. “Anything else?”
“Yes.” He looked up again, dark eyes unreadable. “You don’t work for me. You work with me. But make no mistake…”
He stood again, walking toward her until they were nearly chest to chest. His voice dropped into something softer. Darker.
“You still belong to me.”
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Comments
🦋⃟Plot Twist Addict
I'm impressed by ur persistence
How nobody reads but u write 7 chapters
Good luck Author
U've stamina
2025-07-02
0