Chapter 6
Alia POV
I stood at the bus stop outside Casanova Apartment, the morning breeze biting enough to make me pull my coat tighter around myself. It was Monday, and Cortez Tech Tower would be buzzing with activity once again.
“Aria, get in the car.” Marco’s voice was deep and firm as he leaned against a sleek black Bentley, his tall frame in a navy suit looking like a superhero straight out of a TV show.
“No, thanks, Mr. Vittorio.” I tried to keep my tone casual, though the corner of my mouth twitched despite myself. “Office gossip is scarier than the Mafia’s intel network–I’ve learned that the hard way.” If anyone sees me rolling into work with the CEO, the tabloids will spin me into some Cinderella sequel.
Marco raised an eyebrow, his piercing gaze seeming to cut right through my little thoughts. “y
use.”
can drive this Bentley. I’ve got other cars to
“What?!” I nearly choked on my own spit, waving my hands frantically as my cheeks burned. “No, no, no, everyone at the company knows this car and its plates. I wouldn’t dare!” Are you kidding? Driving this out would be like slapping a ‘CEO’s Wife‘ label right on my forehead!
Just then, the bus rattled up with a groan, and I felt like I’d been saved. I waved at him and jogged aboard. Through the window, I caught a glimpse of Marco still standing there, hands in his pockets, his dark gaze fixed on the bus as it pulled away. Geez, how does this man make ‘unhappy‘ look so obvious?
Way
At Cortez Tech Tower, the elevator lobby was packed, the air thick with the smell of coffee and printer paper during the morning rush. I squeezed in with a few other interns, waiting for the regular employee elevator, heads down scrolling through phones, terrified of missing a project email.
“Good morning, Mr. Vittorio!” one of the interns beside me suddenly blurted out excitedly. I looked up, and my heart skipped a beat. Marco Vittorio wasn’t heading for his private CEO elevator–instead, flanked by two bodyguard–assistants, he was walking straight toward us. Dressed in a tailored black suit, his aura was so icy he might as well have been plucked straight from the Arctic.
“Good morning, Mr. Vittorio!” I echoed, keeping my voice polite and proper, though inwardly I rolled my eyes.
“Hm.” He gave a curt nod, his face blank, as if we were just random strangers on the street. The other interns, though, were buzzing like they’d won the lottery, chattering about how “the CEO actually acknowledged us.”
Once in the office, I dove headfirst into the stack of documents for the Phantom Game bidding project. My fingers flew across the keyboard, the data and charts on my screen practically making my eyes cross. This project involved a ten–million–dollar investment for Cortez Tech, and I didn’t dare think too much about it. All I knew was that nailing this was my chance to prove myself.
By noon, my colleagues were heading to the cafeteria in small groups, but I didn’t even have time to look up. Forgot to eat? Yeah, that’s just another day for me. My coworkers had long ago nicknamed me “Workaholic.”
My phone buzzed suddenly, and I glanced at the screen–an unknown number, but my gut told me it was him. I scanned the room to make sure no one was watching, then cautiously answered, keeping my voice low, “What’s up?”
“No matter how important work is, you can’t skip meals.” Marco’s voice came through the receiver.
1 bit my lip, whispering, “Yeah, I got it.”
“I’m in Suite 1818 at the Ritz Hotel,” he said, completely ignoring my feeble protest. “I’ll be waiting.” And with that, he hung up, not giving me a chance to say no.
