The elevator ride up felt longer than it should have.
The soft hum of classical music filled the sleek, mirrored interior, but I barely heard it over the pounding in my chest. I forced myself to breathe, gripping my bag tighter, my fingers digging into the leather strap.
This is fine, I told myself. It's just an internship. Just a job, right?
But deep down, something gnawed at me.
A quiet, nagging whisper that told me I shouldn't be here. That the moment these elevator doors opened, I was stepping into something I wouldn't walk away from, unchanged.
Ding!
The doors slid open.
A woman in a crisp black dress and red heels stood by the reception desk, her expression blank but her gaze sharp.
"You must be Isabella Romano."
I hesitated at the sound of my full name, then nodded. "Yes ma'am"
She gave a tight, professional smile and turned on her heels. "This way. Mr. Valencia is expecting you."
Mr. Valencia.
The name alone sent a shiver down my spine.
I swallowed hard and followed her down a long, glass-paneled corridor. The entire floor screamed wealth—polished marble, floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the city skyline, modern art pieces that probably cost more than my entire existence.
The deeper we walked, the heavier the air felt. Like I was crossing into something I couldn't undo.
Then she stopped. I almost collided with her while lost in my thoughts but I was quick enough to snap out of it and regained balance almost abruptly. That was close.
There was a single door stood in front of us. Dark, heavy, imposing.
The woman knocked once, then turned the handle. "Go in." she said to me.
I hesitated—for just a second. And then I stepped inside.
And that's when I saw him.
Luca Valencia.
Seated behind a sleek, black desk, exuding power, danger, and something infinitely worse—curiosity.
My breath caught. He wasn't supposed to look like this. Not in a way that made my stomach tighten, my pulse stutter. Not in a way that made me forget—for just a moment—that this man was my brother's enemy.
But fuck, he did.
Sharp suit. Dark, calculating eyes. The kind of presence that made the air feel heavier, like gravity bent for him.
He looked up.
The moment his gaze met mine, something inside me shifted. It wasn't just a look. It was an assessment. A game. A test I didn't even know I was taking.
"You're the intern," he said. Not a question. A fact.
I forced my spine straight. "Yes."
His lips curled slightly—not quite a smile, but something close. Like he found something amusing about me.
"I wasn't aware I was hiring a Romano."
I gripped the strap of my bag tighter. He knows.
I schooled my face into careful neutrality. "I wasn't aware the name mattered."
His fingers drummed against the desk, slow and deliberate. The simple band on his hand caught the light, gleaming against his tanned skin.
"You'd be surprised what matters, Isabella."
The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine.
How did he even know my real name is actually Isabella and not Bella?
I refused to let my nervousness and uneasiness show. I do not want to give him that satisfaction.
He nodded to the chair in front of his desk. "Sit."
I hesitated, not because I was afraid, but because it felt like a test. Like the moment I sat down, I was stepping into something I couldn't escape. And yet, I sat anyway.
And that, was my first mistake.
I sat down, trying to ignore how the leather chair swallowed me up. It was ridiculous, really, the way I suddenly felt small. Like I had walked into a game without knowing the rules, and Luca Valencia was the one who had written them.
He leaned back slightly, studying me with a slow, unreadable expression. The silence stretched, thick and deliberate.
I hated it.
I hated the way he just sat there, saying nothing, making me feel the weight of his attention.
So I spoke first. "I assume there's an orientation process?"
A shadow of amusement flickered across his face. "Eager, aren't you?"
"I like to be prepared."
His lips curled, just slightly. "Good."
Then, with maddening slowness, he picked up a file from his desk. Opened it. My file.
"Isabella Romano," he mused, his voice smooth, deliberate. "Twenty-two. Studying Business Administration. Top ten percent of your class." He glanced up. "Impressive."
My fingers twitched in my lap, but I kept my expression neutral. "I work hard." I said, really trying to contain my nervousness.
"I can see that." His eyes flickered back to the paper. "No prior internships. No corporate experience. Yet here you are, at Valencia Enterprises." He snapped the file shut and let it rest against the desk. "Tell me, Isabella… how did you land this internship?"
I swallowed.
Careful. He's baiting you.
"I applied," I said evenly.
His gaze held mine, dark and knowing. Like he already suspected the truth.
Because the truth was, I had no idea how I got this internship.
I had applied like everyone else, gone through the process, but something about it had felt…off. My acceptance letter had come so quickly, so effortlessly, and now, sitting here in front of him, I couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't just coincidence.
That I was meant to be here. That someone wanted me here.
Did he...?? No! No! I don't think he did that.
I was brought back to reality when Luca exhaled, a quiet, satisfied sound, like he had found something he was looking for.
"I expect efficiency, Isabella. No mistakes. No distractions."
I nodded, my throat dry. "Understood."
He tilted his head slightly. "Are you sure?"
The way he said it… low, deliberate, laced with something I couldn't quite place. Something that sent a sharp pulse of heat through me.
I forced myself to hold his gaze. "Yes."
Another pause. Another beat of silence so thick, it felt dangerous.
Then he smirked. "Good."
The conversation should have ended there. I should have been dismissed, should have stood up and walked out of that office, never looking back.
But I didn't.
Because the way he was looking at me? Like he already owned a piece of me. Was I freaked out? Yes! But a part of me loved the idea of him owning me.
And right now, I wasn't sure I could walk away. Not with the way he was looking at me. Like I was his existence.