Love In Gunpowder

Chapter 3

Summer’s POV

One minute, I had enough money for a month.

Next minute, I was staring at my bank app like it had personally insulted me.

Balance: 0.00

I blinked.

“No. No. No. Stop playing.”

I refreshed the site again.

Same thing.

My chest tightened. “You’ve got to be kidding me… I GOT HACKED?!”

Three weeks. That’s how long it took for my life to flip upside down.

Three weeks of stress.

Three weeks of noodles.Three weeks off, “Ma’am, you need to pay or you need to leave.”

The hotel manager had that smile people wear when they’re pretending to be nice.

“You have two days,” he said. “Then… out.”

So I did the thing I swore I wouldn’t do:

I looked for a job.

I ended up in a small café, smelling like coffee and exhaustion.

“Table four!” the supervisor yelled.

“Yes, ma’am,” I muttered, already tired.

The other girls behind the counter were whispering but I was too tired to pay attention.

One of them nudged me. “Summer, have you heard?”

“Heard what?” I asked, wiping a cup.

“Devante Santini.”

Another girl fanned herself dramatically. “Oh my God. Don’t say his name too loud.”

“I’m not interested,” I said immediately.

They ignored me, of course.

“He’s… ugh. He’s fine. Like, annoyingly fine.”

“I don’t care,” I repeated. “I’m broke, not blind.”

They shoved a phone in my face anyway.

“That’s him.”

I froze for half a second.

Okay. They were right.

Jawline? Rude.

Suit? Ruder.

Eyes? Illegal.

“Yeah, he’s… okay, whatever,” I said, trying to act normal.They squealed.

“He’s looking for a secretary,” one whispered.

“But not just anyone,” the other added. “He rejects people like he breathes.”

“Cool,” I said. “Good for him.”

I went back to pouring coffee like my life wasn’t collapsing.

I didn’t have time to drool over some rich guy with an attitude problem.

I needed money. Sleep. A hug. Maybe all three.

Days passed.

I messed up one order. Then another. Then tripped over my own foot because life hates me.

The supervisor called me to the back.

“Summer,” she said, fake-sweet. “You’re… trying.”

“That sounds bad,” I replied.

She sighed. “We’re letting you go.”

It was like the universe yelled: BOOM. FAILED AGAIN.

I walked out of the café with my last paycheck and a knot in my throat.

“No job. No money. No flight. No dad,” I muttered. “Perfect. Love that for me.”

I got to my hotel room and shut the door quietly.

I wanted to cry, badly but there was no time. Crying doesn’t pay bills.

I opened my laptop, fingers shaking. My fingers have been shaking a lot recently.

“Okay,” I whispered. “One last shot.”

I searched. Jobs. Jobs. Jobs.

Nothing.

So I did the only thing left:

I applied for the secretary position at the only place I actually knew.

The Santini Empire.I hit submit and closed the laptop before I could overthink it.

“If they reject me,” I muttered, “I’ll just… evaporate.”

Sleep didn’t come easily.

The next day

I didn’t dress fancy. No makeup. Hair in a messy bun.

Just a plain shirt, jeans, and tired eyes.

“Whatever,” I told the mirror. “If they don’t want me like this, they don’t want me.”

The Santini building was huge. Glass, very shiny and looked expensive.

I felt like a lost ant walking in.

The receptionist smiled politely. “Name?”

“Summer Belluci.”

She checked her list. “You’re here for the interview. Please sit.”

There were at least ten other girls. All perfect. Designer heels, fresh perfume and their hair

done perfectly.

I looked at my sneakers and sighed. “Yeah. I’m finished.”

Then the elevator opened.

He walked out.

Devante Santini.

The air changed. Literally. Everyone sat straighter.

His eyes moved across the room… fast… sharp…

Then it stopped on me.

My stomach flipped.

He didn’t blink. Didn’t look away.

“Everyone out,” he said calmly.The girls stared at each other.

“B-but sir, we haven’t…” one started.

“Out.” he repeated, voice colder.

They left. Confused, annoyed and definitely disappointed.

The receptionist swallowed. “Sir, the interviews?”

“Cancel them,” Devante said. “I’ve made my choice.”

He turned to me.

“You. Office. Now.”

I followed him, heart beating like crazy.

Inside, the room was huge. Dark wood, city view and it was quite clean.

He leaned against his desk, studying me like a puzzle.

“You didn’t try to impress me,” he said.

“I… didn’t have the energy,” I replied honestly.

He smirked. “Good. Fake people exhaust me.”

I frowned. “So… do I still have to interview or…?”

“You’re hired.”

Just like that.

My mouth fell open. “You don’t even know if I’m good.”

Another slow smile. Almost devilish.

“I know enough.”

He picked up some files and headed toward his inner office.

“Wait, what exactly do I do?”

“You’ll figure it out,” he said, not looking back. “Start tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

The door closed.

I stood there in shock.“That was… weird,” I whispered.

A voice behind me said, “He’s always like that.”

I turned.

Luca.

Standing by the doorway, hand in his pocket, looked as calm and collected as always.

“You work here?” I asked.

He nodded. “Told you. You’d find me when you realized.”

I squinted at him. “Did you know I’d end up here?”

He shrugged. “Let’s just say… nothing in this place happens by accident.”

That did NOT make me feel better.

“Congrats,” he added. “You’re in the lion’s den now.”

I swallowed. “Is that supposed to comfort me?”

“No,” he said softly. “It’s supposed to prepare you.”

He walked off before I could ask more.

I stood alone in the office, heart racing.

I just readjusted my hair tie, wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, and went out to walk

around the park.

Fresh air. Trees moving. Kids laughing.

My brain was loud, though.

Secretary. Santini Empire. Luca. Devil smile. What did I just sign up for?

By the time I got back to the hotel, my feet were tired and my head was heavier than before.

I walked up to the desk.

“Room 315, please,” I said.

The manager frowned like he was confused. Then he smiled way too nicely.

“Oh, Miss Summer. Your bill has been taken care of.”I blinked. “What?”

He slid a white envelope across the counter.

Paid.

All of it.

My heart dropped into my stomach. “Who paid?”

He shrugged. “No name. Just instructions.”

I opened the envelope.

Inside was another sheet of paper.

Neat handwriting again.

It had an address.

Then: Apartment 4B.

My apartment name. My number.

Like someone had already chosen where I would live before I even decided.

I rushed upstairs.

My room felt weird immediately.

Half empty.

My suitcases were gone. My clothes. My books.

Only the bed, the table, and the curtains.

My chest tightened. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

A small note sat on the pillow.

Your belongings have been moved.

You may stay one more night.

Then go to the address.

That was it.

No signature.

No explanation.I sat on the bed and ran my hands through my hair.

“Who keeps doing this?” I whispered. “Why is everyone planning my life for me?”

My phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

I opened it.

Dress sharp.

Be on time.

8:00 a.m.

Not 8:01.

— not 7:59.

I stared at the message.

Straight to the point. Controlling and cold.

I sighed.

“Great,” I muttered. “Now even my time belongs to someone.”

I tossed the phone on the bed, laid back, and stared at the ceiling.

New job.

Paid hotel.

Moved apartment.

People watching me from the shadows.

And deep inside… one thought wouldn’t leave:

This isn’t random.

Tomorrow at 8:00 a.m., my life was about to shift again and I wasn’t sure if I was ready or

not.