I bit the inside of my cheek, refusing to let the tears welling in my eyes fall.
Crying over this? No way.
But the receptionist’s sharp tone, her condescending smirk—it stung more than I wanted to admit. I tightened my grip on the food container, my knuckles turning white as I sat down on one of the sleek, uncomfortable lobby chairs.
“It’s not like he’ll even see you,” the receptionist muttered, loud enough for me to hear. “People like Mr. De Luca don’t waste time on…distractions.”
Distractions.
The word felt like a slap, but I kept my head down, staring at the polished floor beneath my feet.
I exhaled sharply, clenching my jaw.
Focus, Isabella. You’re not going to let this ruin your day.
But as I sat there, seconds dragging into minutes, I started to second-guess everything. Why h
