BOUND BY CONTRACT, CLAIMED BY DESIRE

Valentina's POV I wasn't here as a guest, I was his secretary, and tonight my job was making sure everyone else had a good time. "Mr. Leonardo Monte, CEO of CrossTech Industries, ladies and gentlemen! Who will be the lucky winner of an exclusive dinner for two at the renowned Aurelio's restaurant?" The auctioneer smiled widely, as he stretched his hand towards the guest table. Women across the ballroom leaned forward as some arranged their hair, some straightened their neck lines of their gowns, their lips in a wide smile. My gaze drifted to Leonardo Monte, as his blue eyes were fixed on the auctioneer, his dark hair slicked back, matching his black tuxedo. He sat at the guest table with the stillness of a man who had never once needed anyone's approval, his broad shoulders relaxed, one hand resting on the table. Women across the room kept glancing at him, some even leaning forward exposing their cleavage. But his attention was clearly not there. In two years of working for Leonardo Monte, I had never once seen him show anything he didn't intend to show. "Fifteen hundred dollars!" A woman in the front row raised her hand, her diamond bracelet glistering. "Two thousand!" An older woman near the center stood up, her silver hair swept into a neat updo. "Twenty-five hundred!" A younger voice said at the left side of the room. The buzzing of my phone distracted me as I picked it up. “Dear Miss Valentina Rossi, this is your final notice regarding the outstanding balance of $847,000 for patient Elena Rossi. Payment must be received by 2:00pm by Wednesday or the patient will be transferred to a county care facility per hospital policy.” My eyes widened as my breathing became rapid. “I can't have that amount on Wednesday,” I whispered, as I bit my lips slightly. I had $3,200 in my bank account, every single cent I had managed to scrape together over the last six months by working double shifts and eating peanut butter sandwiches for lunch and telling myself it was temporary. "Three thousand dollars!" A male voice was heard from somewhere in the middle of the room. "Three thousand dollars from the gentleman in the center! Do I hear thirty-five hundred?" The auctioneer said, his smile never leaving his face. The room hummed with whispered consultations, as paddles went up and came back down. "Three thousand two hundred dollars,” my voice came out louder than I intended, shutting down the whispers round the room, and for one suspended second, I didn't understand what I had done. Every head turned, their gaze fixed on me, as they whispered among themselves, their eyes accessing my dressing. I held my breath, as tears formed in my eyes. I opened my mouth and closed it back, my hands still on the air. "Did I hear three thousand two hundred dollars from the young lady in the back?" The auctioneer pointed his gavel toward me, his smile stretching even wider, delighted by the disruption. "Isn't that his secretary…" a woman to my left whispered, not quietly enough. "She just bid on her own boss," someone else said, as there was a laugh underneath it. "Going once at three thousand two hundred dollars!" I shook my head, trying to signal that it was a mistake, but the auctioneer faced another direction, searching for a bidder. "Going twice!" He shouted, as he raised his gravel. "How embarrassing for her…" I heard another voice, as the gavel came down. “To the young lady in the back!" He said. Heat poured over my face so fast that my eyes watered. I was on my feet before I realized I had stood, as I clutched my tablet against my chest. "I think she spent her whole salary on a date with her own boss,” the whispers were loud enough that people weren't even bothering to low their voices. "Someone should tell her that's not how charity works,” that was the last statement I heard, as I rushed outside. My legs was shaky as I slowly walked down the empty corridor. I made it to the wall near the restrooms before my legs decided they had done enough, as I leaned back, pressing my hands against my mouth. “$3,200 gone. Not sent to the hospital, but gone, in exchange for a charity dinner with a man who didn't even know what coffee I drank after two years of making his every morning,” my voice was shaky, my face was hot as tears streamed down my face. I looked at my phone, the email still on the screen. “On Wednesday…,” I whispered, as my gaze drifted to the ceiling, my heart pounding rapidly. Tears streamed down my face, as I wiped it off, my mascara staining my hands. A familiar footstep came from the direction of the ballroom doors, each step matching my heart beat, as I cleaned my tears off my face, my eyes fixed on the direction. My boss came to a stop about ten feet away from me, both hands in his pockets, his ice-blue eyes settling on my face with the focused calm of a man who had walked out of a room full of people bidding for his company specifically to find me in a hallway. "Mr. Monte,” the words came out before I knew it. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't…I didn't mean to bid, I swear I wasn't trying to…the hospital called about my mom and… "My office,” those were the two words he said, his blue eyes still fixed on me. "I… what?" I blinked, as I furrowed my brows. "My office, Ms. Rossi." He held my gaze for one more second, then turned and walked toward the private elevator at the far end of the corridor without looking back. My brain told me not to follow him, to go back into the ballroom, collect my things, apologize to whoever needed apologizing to, and then find the nearest exit and keep walking, but I followed him anyways. The elevator door opened the moment he pressed the button, as if the building itself had been waiting for him. I bit my lips, as my eyes scanned the small space, looking for nothing in particular. The elevator opened directly into his office, a room I had walked into hundreds of times to deliver documents, take notes and stand quietly while he made phone calls that moved millions of dollars. But tonight, it felt like a room I had never been inside before. He walked to his desk and turned around, the city glittered behind him through the floor-to-ceiling glass like something out of a photograph, all light and distance and beautiful indifference. "How much does your mother's treatment cost?" The question came out too fast, as I furrowed my brows. "I... that's not your concern, Mr. Monte. I shouldn't have brought my personal problems to work, it was unprofessional and…" "Answer the question,” his voice was low but steady, as I swallowed hard, my throat moving visibly with the effort. "Eight hundred forty-seven thousand dollars, must be paid on Wednesday or they transfer her to county facility,” my voice was shaky but audible. “You can't make a scene because of your problems,” he said, his blue eyes staring straight at me.” “I know…I won't do that again,” I said, as I heaved a sigh. “Get out, now!” His voice was low, his blue eyes staring daggers at me. I walked towards the exit, almost hitting the door, as one question stayed in my mind. Did he just called me to his office to tell me get out?