Becoming His

Chapter 6

The executive floor of Vitale Tower hummed with controlled energy the following week. I had grown accustomed to the rhythm: early arrivals, back-to-back strategy sessions, and the quiet satisfaction of seeing my recommendations implemented in real time. Today’s agenda included a review of the Mediterranean expansion plan I had refined over several late nights.

I arrived at the main conference room ahead of schedule, tablet in hand, and took my usual seat to Dario’s right. The room filled quickly with department heads. Last to enter was Dario’s longtime personal assistant, a polished woman in her late twenties named Haylie Moreau. She moved with practiced efficiency, setting a fresh espresso beside Dario’s place while offering a bright smile that lingered a fraction too long.

“Everything prepared exactly as you prefer, Mr. Vitale,” she said, her fingers brushing his sleeve as she adjusted a folder. The gesture was subtle, but deliberate. She repeated it moments later when handing him a pen, her hand resting on his a beat longer than necessary. “If you need anything else during the meeting, just say the word. I’m right here.”

I kept my expression neutral, eyes on my notes. Haylie had been coolly polite to me since the announcement of our marriage, but today her behavior carried a sharper edge. She positioned herself behind Dario’s chair, close enough that her hip nearly touched his shoulder, and occasionally leaned in to point at something on his screen, her voice dropping intimately.

Dario acknowledged her with a brief nod, focused on the agenda. “Let’s begin. Asha, walk us through the supplier projections.”

I launched into the presentation without hesitation, highlighting key cost savings and risk mitigations. My voice stayed steady and professional. When Haylie interjected with a comment clearly aimed at Dario, “I flagged those same concerns in last month’s report, remember?”, accompanied by another light touch on his arm, I simply continued to the next slide. No raised eyebrow. No tightening of my jaw. I refused to give her the reaction she seemed to crave.

The meeting ran smoothly. My analysis earned nods of approval from the executives, and Dario approved two of my proposed partnerships on the spot. As everyone filed out, Haylie lingered, gathering documents while casting another glance in my direction.

“Mr. Vitale, shall I reschedule your private dinner for next week?” she asked, her tone warm. “The usual table at Le Jardin. I know how much you enjoy their wine selection. I took the liberty of confirming your preferences.”

Dario glanced up. “That won’t be necessary, Haylie. My wife and I will handle personal scheduling going forward.”

Her smile faltered only slightly. “Of course. Just trying to be helpful, as always.” She shot me a quick look that bordered on triumphant, as if waiting for me to bristle or stake some visible claim.

I met her gaze evenly, then turned to Dario. “I’ll have the revised contracts ready by four. Anything else?”

He studied me for a moment, something unreadable in his eyes, before shaking his head. “That’s all for now.”

Haylie exited with the last of the team, her heels clicking sharply down the corridor. Once the door closed, Dario leaned back in his chair.

“You handled that with impressive restraint,” he remarked.

I gathered my materials. “There was nothing to handle. We have work to do. Personal matters don’t belong in strategy meetings.”

A faint smile touched his lips. “Most women in your position would have said something.”

“I’m not most women.” I stood, smoothing my skirt. “And I don’t play games I didn’t agree to. Haylie is your employee. If her behavior crosses a line, that’s for you to address.”

He rose as well, coming around the table. “It won’t. She’s competent, but ambitious. The marriage announcement surprised many people here.”

“Including her, apparently.” I kept my tone light and factual. “As long as it doesn’t affect productivity, it’s irrelevant to me.”

Dario’s gaze held mine a moment longer. “Your composure is refreshing, Asha. Most would assume jealousy is the expected response.”

“Jealousy implies investment beyond our contract,” I replied calmly. “We have clear terms. I fulfill my role. You fulfill yours. Everything else is background noise.”

He seemed about to say more when his phone buzzed. A brief call pulled his attention away, and I used the moment to step out. In the hallway, Haylie was waiting near the elevators with a stack of files.

“Mrs. Vitale,” she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “It must be quite the adjustment, stepping into all of this. Dario, Mr. Vitale, has such particular tastes. I’ve been managing his schedule and preferences for three years now. If you ever need tips on how he likes things done, I’d be happy to share.”

I pressed the elevator button. “That’s kind of you, Haylie. But I prefer learning directly from my husband. Efficiency matters more than history, don’t you think?”

The elevator arrived. I stepped in without waiting for a reply. As the doors closed, her expression tightened. I felt nothing triumphant or threatened. Only the quiet satisfaction of refusing to be baited.

Back at the penthouse that evening, Dario joined me in the home office while I finalized the contracts. He watched me work for a few minutes before speaking.

“Haylie requested a transfer to the European division this afternoon.”

I didn’t look up from the screen. “Your decision to make.”

“You really didn’t care?” There was genuine curiosity in his voice.

I saved the file and met his eyes. “I care about results and respect. If she can’t provide either, then yes, a transfer makes sense. But I won’t lose sleep over it. My focus is on the eighteen months ahead and protecting what I came here to save.”

Dario nodded slowly. For the first time, the silence that followed felt almost companionable. We reviewed the final documents together, trading concise feedback like colleagues who had begun to trust each other’s judgment.

Later, as we prepared for bed, the routine felt less like a battlefield and more like two people navigating shared space. I still resented the circumstances that had forced me here, but the sharp edges of each day were softening under practicality and mutual competence.

Sleep came easier that night, even with him on the other side of the bed. The jealousy Haylie had tried to provoke had found no purchase. I had bigger things to protect, and I intended to do so with clear eyes and steady hands.