A Claim Without Consent
854 Words
The next morning, the moment I stepped into the office, Kris greeted me with a bright smile.
“Good morning, Sarah.”
“Good morning,” I replied, smiling back.
“There’s a lot to cover,” he said warmly. “We should start your training so you can slowly take on the work.”
“Sure,” I nodded. “I’m ready.”
He booked a small training room—quiet, isolated—and we settled in. After explaining a few basics, he hesitated, then asked casually, almost too casually,
“How do you know the owner of this organisation?”
I froze.
“I… don’t,” I said honestly, confusion creeping into my voice.
Kris tilted his head. “No offence, but I saw you leave in his car yesterday evening.”
My heart skipped.
“What?” I asked softly. “How do you know that car belongs to the owner?”
He chuckled. “Who on earth doesn’t know that limited-edition Mercedes belongs to Mr. Rafael? He was in the news recently—he only spends on things he truly likes.”
Then, with a grin, he added, “Honestly, it’s my dream to own a car like that one day.”
His words echoed in my head.
“His name is Rafael…” I murmured to myself. “Not Rafe.”
Kris noticed my sudden silence. He stood up, walked closer, and gently placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Hey, are you okay? You look pale. Do you want some water?”
Before I could answer—
“I don’t think this is the place to get close. Or to misunderstand boundaries.”
The voice was deep. Cold. Lethal.
We both turned.
He stood at the doorway—hands in his pockets, suit immaculate, expression calm yet murderous. The air itself felt heavier.
“Sorry, sir,” Kris said quickly, stepping back. “It’s a misunderstanding. I think Sarah is having a panic attack.”
Rafael’s gaze shifted to me—sharp, assessing.
“Leave,” he said to Kris.
Kris hesitated, concern flickering in his eyes as he looked at me once more. Then he nodded and walked out, closing the door behind him.
The silence was suffocating.
Rafael walked toward me slowly, deliberately, until he was towering over me.
“I didn’t realise,” he said quietly, “that you and him were… close.”
“It’s not like that,” I said, my voice trembling.
“Then explain,” he demanded.
I swallowed. “He was training me. That’s all.”
His jaw tightened.
He had checked the cameras the moment Sarah entered the building.
He had seen Kris smile at Sarah.
Seen him touch her.
And it had ignited something violent inside him.
“Who are you really?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Rafe… or Rafael?”
A slow smirk curved his lips.
“Rafael Marcozzi,” he said calmly. “My family calls me Rafe. Out of love.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”
“I never lied to you,” he replied smoothly.
“Tesoro mio.”
I stood up abruptly. “Don’t tell me you’re behind this job. That you hired me out of sympathy.”
His hand shot out, gripping my arm tightly.
He leaned closer—his voice low, controlled, dangerous.
“I don’t give anything out of sympathy,” he said.
“I give because I want to.”
His grip tightened slightly.
“You will get everything in this world because you are mine. And what belongs to me does not beg, does not struggle, and does not settle for less.”
I felt the weight of his possessiveness crush my lungs.
“I’m not anyone’s,” I said sharply.
He smiled—slow, dark.
“Oh, tesoro mio,” he murmured. “You just don’t know it yet. But you already belong to me. And once I claim you…”
His voice dropped.
“The whole world will know who owns you.”
“In your dreams,” I snapped. “I’m resigning.”
He released my arm, straightened his cuffs, and looked at me like a man already ten steps ahead.
“You can try,” he said calmly.
“But your contract states that voluntary resignation before termination requires a penalty of ten million dollars.”
My blood drained from my face.
“And as for another job?” He tilted his head slightly. “No one opposes me.”
Reality crashed into me—I hadn’t read everything. I had trusted blindly.
How stupid I had been.
“This is my only warning,” he said softly, stepping closer once more.
“Don’t entertain ideas that don’t serve you.”
He leaned in, inhaling my scent as if committing it to memory.
Then he straightened and walked away.
I stood there, frozen—
Knowing one thing with terrifying clarity.
I hadn’t just accepted a job.
I had stepped into Rafael Marcozzi world.
And he had no intention of letting me leave.
- Writer
