Louboutins & Aprons

Most people called me a b***h. Others called me rude. Selfish. Cold. Heartless. Cutthroat. The names followed me everywhere. They appeared beneath articles written about me. They were whispered behind closed doors after business meetings. They traveled through the halls of De Luca & Co. before I even arrived at work. And the funny thing was, none of those names offended me. People were entitled to their opinions. They could call me whatever they wanted as long as they remembered one thing— I was still the woman signing their paychecks. The sharp sound of my six-inch Louboutins echoed across the polished marble floor as I walked through the main entrance of De Luca & Co. Click. Click. Click. The sound traveled through the enormous lobby, and almost immediately, the atmosphere changed. Conversations stopped. Employees who had been standing around suddenly found reasons to move. A few people lowered their voices. Others stared at their computer screens as though they had been working for hours. I noticed everything. The nervous glances. The stiff shoulders. The way people avoided looking directly at me. Fear had a particular smell. It smelled like expensive coffee that had been forgotten on desks. It smelled like nervous sweat and rushed excuses. It sounded like whispers that disappeared the moment I walked into a room. And De Luca & Co. was filled with it. I adjusted the sleeve of my black tailored suit and continued toward the private elevators. “Good morning, Ms. De Luca,” the receptionist said. Her voice shook slightly. I stopped. The woman immediately looked as though she regretted speaking. I slowly turned toward her. “Good morning,” I replied. Her eyes widened. Then she smiled nervously. “Good morning.” I continued walking. I had learned years ago that people expected me to be cruel. Sometimes, I gave them exactly what they expected. Other times, I simply allowed them to believe the stories. Reputations were useful. Especially in business. De Luca & Co. was not just a company. It was an empire. My family’s businesses stretched across industries and countries. We owned luxury hotels, real-estate developments, investment firms, private transportation companies, fashion houses, restaurants, and several international technology companies. The De Luca name was attached to buildings people could see from miles away. Our family had spent generations building an empire powerful enough to survive economic crises, political changes, and competitors who had spent decades trying to destroy us. And now, at twenty-five years old, I was the Chief Operating Officer of the company. Some people believed I was too young. Others believed I had only received the position because I was a De Luca. They were wrong. My surname opened doors. My work kept them open. I had spent most of my life preparing for this position. While other children were attending birthday parties, I was sitting quietly in my father’s office, listening to conversations about investments and international markets. While other teenagers were deciding what university they wanted to attend, I was studying business reports and learning how companies failed. By the time I was twenty-two, I had negotiated deals with people twice my age. By twenty-three, I had helped save one of our companies from a financial disaster. And by twenty-five, I had become one of the most feared women in the business world. People respected my intelligence. They respected my ability to recognize a weak investment before anyone else. They respected the fact that I could walk into a failing company and turn it into a profitable business within a year. But they did not like me. That was fine. I was not in business to be liked. The elevator doors opened, and I stepped inside. The moment the doors closed, I released a quiet breath. My reflection stared back at me from the mirrored walls. Long dark hair. Sharp eyes. Perfect makeup. A black suit designed specifically for me. Diamond earrings. A watch worth more than some people’s homes. And my red-soled Louboutins. Everything about me was expensive. Not because I needed people to know how wealthy I was. But because I appreciated quality. I liked the best things. The best clothes. The best cars. The best hotels. The best food. The best of everything. My family had given me access to a world most people could only imagine, and I had never pretended otherwise. I knew who I was. I knew the power my name carried. And I knew exactly what people saw when I entered a room. Valentina De Luca. The Ice Queen. The woman who could destroy a company with one decision. The woman who never smiled during negotiations. The woman who made grown businessmen nervous. The woman who had appeared on the cover of every major business magazine before the age of twenty-six. Some media outlets called me the most powerful young woman in business. Others preferred the alpha female. But my personal favorite was the Cutthroat Queen. At least that one sounded impressive. The elevator opened on the executive floor. My assistant, Claire, was waiting for me. “Good morning, Ms. De Luca.” “Schedule.” “Your executive meeting begins in ten minutes. You have a call with the board at eleven. The hotel acquisition report is waiting for your approval, and your father asked to see you before lunch.” I walked past her. “Why?” “He didn’t say.” “Then I’ll find out when I see him.” Claire followed beside me, holding a tablet. “There is also an article about you.” “There is always an article about me.” “This one is trending.” I stopped outside my office. Claire hesitated before turning the screen toward me. A photograph of me filled the page. I was standing outside one of our hotels, dressed in white and wearing sunglasses. My expression was serious, and my heels were visible beneath the hem of my coat. The headline read: VALENTINA DE LUCA: THE YOUNG WOMAN BUSINESSMEN FEAR I stared at it for several seconds. Then I handed the tablet back. “Is that all?” Claire blinked. “You’re not going to read it?” “No.” “But they called you ruthless.” “They call me ruthless every week.” “They also called you selfish.” “Did they mention the company’s quarterly profits?” Claire looked down at the article. “Yes.” “Then they wrote something useful.” I opened the door to my office. My office occupied the entire corner of the executive floor. The walls were made of glass, offering a perfect view of the city. The furniture was modern and expensive. A large painting hung behind my desk. My brother had painted it. Adam. The only person in the world who could walk into my office without knocking. The only person who could insult my attitude and still leave without being fired. The only person who knew how to make me laugh when no one else could. Adam was my older brother. He was also the biggest disappointment in my father’s eyes. Not because Adam lacked intelligence. Adam was brilliant. He was talented, creative, and capable of doing anything he wanted. But Adam had chosen art. He had walked away from the family business and dedicated his life to painting. My father never understood it. “He left a billion-dollar company just to paint pictures,” my father often said. As though Adam had committed a crime. As though success could only be measured by money. Adam did not care. He lived in a beautiful apartment filled with paint, unfinished canvases, and colors that somehow always ended up on his clothes. He was openly gay. He was proud of who he was. And although my father loved him, there were moments when I could see the disappointment in his eyes. My father had wanted Adam to become the next leader of De Luca & Co. Instead, Adam had chosen paintbrushes. So my father turned to me. And I became everything Adam never wanted to be. The businesswoman. The heir. The person who carried the family name into every boardroom. I was more like my father than either of us wanted to admit. Ambitious. Demanding. Unforgiving. Focused. My father taught me that emotions had no place in business. He taught me that kindness was often mistaken for weakness. He taught me that if people feared you, they would think twice before betraying you. I learned every lesson. And I became better than he expected. I placed my handbag on the desk and looked through the glass wall. Employees moved through the building below me. Everyone was working. Everyone was afraid. Everyone was careful. Exactly as they should be. Then there was a knock. “Come in.” Claire entered. “Your father is here.” “Send him in.” A moment later, my father walked into my office. He was wearing a dark suit, his silver hair perfectly styled. He looked around the room before his eyes settled on me. “You’re early.” “I’m always early.” “You have the executive meeting in five minutes.” “Then you have five minutes.” My father smiled slightly. People often assumed I had inherited my mother’s beauty. But my personality? That came from him. “I spoke with Adam yesterday,” he said. I leaned back in my chair. “And?” “He is preparing for another art exhibition.” “Good for him.” “He could be running one of the largest companies in the world.” “He doesn’t want to.” “He left the family business to paint.” “He left because he wanted to be happy.” My father’s expression hardened. “Happiness does not build an empire.” “No,” I said calmly. “But it gives people a reason to live after they build one.” For several seconds, neither of us spoke. My father stared at me. I stared back. Then he sighed. “You sound like your brother.” “No,” I replied. “I sound like someone who understands him.” My father looked toward the painting behind me. Adam’s painting. The only piece of art in the entire executive office. “He is lucky to have you,” my father said. I looked at the painting. “No. I’m lucky to have him.” My father walked toward the door. “Your meeting.” “I know.” He stopped. “Valentina?” “Yes?” “The board is nervous about the acquisition.” “Then they should have prepared better.” My father smiled. “There she is.” I smiled back. Only slightly. “The woman everyone fears.” He left. I looked down at the documents waiting on my desk. Millions of dollars. Thousands of employees. An entire empire. All of it rested partly on my shoulders. People called me a b***h. They called me rude. They called me selfish. They called me cold. Maybe they were right. Maybe I was everything they said I was. But no one had ever built an empire by being soft. And I had no intention of becoming someone else just to make people comfortable. I stood and adjusted my suit. Then I walked toward the conference room. Click. Click. Click. The whispers stopped as soon as I entered. Every executive stood. Every conversation disappeared. Every pair of eyes turned toward me. I placed my documents on the table and looked around the room. “Sit down,” I said. Everyone immediately obeyed. I took my seat at the head of the table. The room was silent. Good. I opened the acquisition report. “Let’s begin.” Because I was Valentina De Luca. The Ice Queen. The Cutthroat Woman. The Alpha Female. The woman people feared. And I was everything they said I was. I had never needed anyone’s approval. Only their respect.