Chapter 22
Alia POV
The restaurant was quiet, with Marco sitting across from me, his posture straight as he meticulously cut his steak into precise pieces. Even during a simple meal, he maintained his graceful demeanor in every movement.
I noticed how the warm light illuminated the angles of his face. His normally olive–toned skin had taken on a
Marco, are you feeling alright? Your face looks red.” I set my fork down, studying him openly.
He paused mid–cut, his dark eyes flickering to mine. “I’m fine.”
slight blush.
Marco dabbed his mouth with a napkin, his movements deliberate. “I need to go out tonight to handle some family business, and might not be back until tomorrow.”
I nodded, mimicking his words: “Be careful. The night security in Portano isn’t very good.”
His lips quirked in what might have been amusement. “I’ll manage.”
What I didn’t know was that moments after Marco leaving our apartment, Marco had made a very different call than I’d imagined.
“Giulio, send a car immediately. Take me to Santa Maria Private Hospital. Don’t alert anyone.”
The next morning, I woke up to find that Marco hadn’t returned home, and I received a text message:
Had to go to Altoria for family business. Will return Thursday. Take care of yourself.
I sighed, running a hand through my tangled hair. Just when I was starting to feel closer to him, duty called him away. Such was life with Marco Vittorio.
Monday morning arrived with a mountain of work at Cortese Tech Company. I’d barely settled at my desk when Berti Mella, the project manager, dropped a thick folder in front of me.
“Ms. Rossi, Mr. Vittorio specifically requested you for this market research project.” He tapped the folder labeled ‘Phantom Game Initiative.” “We need preliminary market analysis in three days.”
I flipped through the materials, my eyes widening. “Three days? For a complete gaming market analysis?”
Berti shrugged. ‘Mr. Vittorio said you were exceptionally capable.”
I suppressed a smile at Marco’s confidence in me, even as I wondered if this assignment was his way of keeping me busy while he was gone, “I’ll get right on it.”
by noon, I was so engrossed in research that I’d forgotten about lunch. The Phantom Game project was fascinating–a revolutionary virtual reality platform that seemed poised to transform the gaming industry. If Cortese Tech could secure this partnership, it would be a major coup.
I was highlighting a competitor analysis when a shadow fell across my desk.
“Alia, you’ve been working all morning. Join me for lunch?
Flooked up to find Antonio Ricci smiting down at me. With his warm brown eyes and friendly smile, he was easily one of the most approachable people in the office.
“Thanks, but I really need to finish this section,” I replied, gesturing to the papers scattered across my desk,
“Everyone needs to eat, he insisted. Just the employee cafeteria. Thirty minutes, I promise.
Chapter 22
I hesitated. Marco was away, I was hungry, and it was just lunch with a colleague in the company cafeteria. Nothing inappropriate
“Alright, thirty minutes,” I agreed, saving my files and grabbing my purse.
But instead of heading toward the elevator that would take us to the building’s cafeteria, Antonio guided
“Where are we going?” I asked, confused.
“Ritz Restaurant. Best Italian food in the business district,” he replied casually. “My treat.”
froze. “The employee cafeteria, you said.”
Antonio laughed. “Trust me, their pasta is worth the extra five minutes‘ walk.”
about that.
me toward the exit seriou
I should have insisted we turn back, but I didn’t want to seem difficult. Besides, I reasoned, it was just lunch between colleagues.
The restaurant was elegant but not ostentatious, with crisp white tablecloths and soft lighting. As we were seated at a corner table, I couldn‘ help noticing how the maître d‘ had given Antonio a curious look when he mentioned my name during the reservation.
Throughout lunch, Antonio was charming and attentive, asking about my studies and how I was adjusting to Cortese Tech. But as our meal progressed, I became increasingly aware of his lingering glances and the way he found excuses to touch my hand when reaching for the bread basket.
