Chapter 8: Clumsy
1566 Words
Valentina's POV
The elevator doors opened on the forty-third floor and I stepped out into the CrossTech lobby with my coffee in one hand and my tablet in the other.
“This is just another Wednesday morning,” I whispered, my lips in a tight smile.
I walked to my desk outside Leonardo's office and set my things down. My hands were shaking, but I pressed them flat against the desk.
I stretched my neck towards his office door, as I let out a low exhale seeing that the door was closed.
His hands had been on my waist three days ago and I could still feel the heat of them.
“Ughh…today's going to be long,” I said, seeing ninety-three unread messages on my laptop screen.
I started sorting them, prioritizing by sender and flagging the urgent ones for Leonardo's review. But my office phone rang, making me loose focus.
"I want my usual coffee. Black, no sugar, temperature precise,” I stared at the message Leonadro sent, my lips in a deep frown, but my heart kept pounding rapidly.
I stood up and walked to the lobby. The coffee machine hummed as I filled the cup. No sugar, exactly the way he liked it, while I carried it and knocked on his office door..
"Come in,” his baritone echoed from his office.
I pushed the door open, my gaze fixed on Leonardo who sat behind his desk, eyes on his laptop. He wore a white ironed shirt which hugged his body. His tie was perfectly knotted and his hair was slicked back.
I walked to his desk and set the coffee down, but the cup tipped, as hot coffee splashed across my fingers.
“s**t,” I muttered, as I pulled my hand back, the cup clattering against the saucer.
Leonardo's eyes moved to my hand, his face calm then to my face.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, his body still relaxed.
"Is that a question?” I said my voice going slightly up, as I stared daggers at him. “Anyways I'm okay,” I said, withdrawing my hands to myself, while using the other hand to massage it softly.
The burn stung, but I kept looking at his blue eyes staring straight at me.
"Your hand is red,” he said, standing slowly from his seat.
He walked around the desk and grabbed my wrist, his fingers cool against my skin, but I folded my palm, not giving him access to see.
"Let me see," he said.
"It's nothing,” I said, trying to drag my hand back, but his grip became even tighter.
"Let me see,” his voice was calm, but deeper, his eyes fixed on mine.
I held my hand out. The skin was red, already starting to blister.
Leonardo's jaw tightened as he let go of my wrist and walked to the cabinet by the window. He pulled out a first aid kit and returned with a tube of burn cream.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair across from his desk as he knelt in front of me.
Leonardo squeezed cream onto his fingers and took my hand again. He spread the cream across the burn, his touch gentle.
My eyes scanned his face. His expression was flat, but his fingers trembled slightly.
"You should be more careful," he said.
"I know,” I replied, letting out a low exhale.
"This is the second time in three days you've been clumsy,” he said, looking at me with a bored expression.
My face flushed, as I pulled my hand back. "I said I'm fine."
Leonardo stood, and capped the tube and set it on the desk, as he walked back to his chair and sat down.
"Close the door on your way out," he said without looking at me.
I left without another word, but it was already lunch time. I stood at the water cooler, filling my cup, when I heard voices behind me.
"Did you see her bag?" one of the women whispered. It was Sarah from Accounting. She had a blonde hair, sharp eyes that's always watching.
"Designer," another voice said. Lila from HR. A brunette, always on red lipstick which actually suits her.
"That's a five-thousand-dollar bag! And she's been leaving with Mr. Monte every night."
"Do you think they're..."
It was the last I could handle, as I turned around.
Sarah's face flushed, while lila looked at her shoes.
I walked past them without saying anything.
My bag was sitting on my desk where I had left it. Black and simple, but expensive.
Leonardo had given it to me last week. He said it was part of my "wardrobe upgrade" for public appearance and it pissed me off.
I was about sitting down when my office phone rang. "My office. Now."
Leonardo was standing by the window, hands in his pockets, but he turned when I entered.
"Close the door,” he said.
He gestured to the stack of folders on his desk. There were at least thirty of them, all labeled with IPO documentation codes.
"I need these organized by sector and filing date," he said. "Alphabetized within each category. Cross-referenced with the digital archive. I want a complete index by end of day."
I stared at the stack, end of day was five hours away.
"This is a week's worth of work," I said furrowing my brows.
"Then you'd better start now,” he said, raising one eyebrow.
"Why are you doing this?" I said, shaking my head slightly.
Leonardo's eyes met mine. "Doing what?"
"Testing me."
"I'm not testing you. I'm giving you an assignment,” he said, taking one step towards me.
"You're giving me an impossible assignment,” my eyes were wide, as I messaged my forehead slightly.
"Nothing is impossible, Miss. Rossi. It's just a question of how much you're willing to sacrifice to get it done."
I walked to the desk and picked up the first folder. My hand still ached from the burn.
"Why?" I asked again, folding my arms.
Leonardo crossed his arms. "Because I want to see what you do when you're cornered."
I looked at him, and his stared at me, his expression unreadable.
"Understood," I said.
I carried the stack back to my desk and got to work.
By four PM, I had sorted through half the files. My eyes burned, my hand throbbed.
But footsteps coming my direction distracted me, turning my gaze to the direction. Leonardo walked past my desk, set a paper bag down beside my keyboard.
I looked at him, my brows furrowed, but he said nothing and just walked away.
Inside the bag was a sandwich, turkey and avocado on whole wheat. No mayo, no extra lettuce.
I stared at it for a long moment. Then I looked at Leonardo's closed office door.
“How did he know my favorite?” I muttered, still staring at the closed door.
At six PM, my phone buzzed. A message from Mrs. Chen.
"Attached are three dress options for Friday's dinner. Mr. Monte will select one."
I opened the photos, three dresses. The first was black, sleeveless, fitted. The second was red, low-cut, dramatic. The third was navy blue, high-necked, simple.
Two hours later, Mrs. Chen sent another message.
"Mr. Monte has selected the navy dress. He requests you also bring the cream blouse from Monday."
“Monday? The day I had stumbled. The day his hands had been on my waist, and he remembered what I wore…ughh you're thinking too far Valentina!!” I scolded myself, as I shook my head.
I set my phone down and looked at the closed office door again. I didn't know if that was sweet or terrifying.
At eight PM, I finished the last file and walked to Leonardo's office.
"Come in."
He was still at his desk, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up.
"It's done," I said, and he finally looked up.
"All of it?" He said, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes."
"Show me."
I handed him the index I had created. He scanned it, flipping through the pages, his expression flat, and after a long moment, he set it down.
"Good work," he said.
"Thank you,” I said, my lips breaking into a real smile.The first I've done since last week..
"You can go home,” he said, as I urned to leave.
"Valentina,” he said, just as if was about to open the door.
"Friday's dinner. Stay close to me."
I looked back at him. His eyes were serious, and unreadable.
"Why?"
"Because my family will try to tear you apart. And I'd prefer they didn't succeed."
I nodded once and left the room.
At nine PM, I was alone in the office. Everyone else had gone home. The city glittered outside the windows.
I sat at my desk and stared at my reflection in the dark computer screen. Three days ago, I had told myself this was just a contract, a transaction…two years and then I walk away.
But Leonardo had caught me when I fell. He had tended to my burn. He knows my favorite sandwich. He had remembered what I wore on Monday.
And I had noticed the way his fingers trembled when he touched my hand.
I was starting to want things I had no right to want, and this terrified me.
- Writer
