The Billionaire's Plus Sized Redemption

Chapter 4: Blank Pages(part 2)

Olivia pov

Few days later

“Miss Bennett, can you come in tomorrow morning at nine o’clock for an interview?”

The woman’s voice came through the small phone speaker clear and sharp. I stood in the middle of Luca’s living room, holding the phone against my ear so tightly my knuckles turned white.

“Tomorrow?” I asked. My voice sounded thin, like a dry leaf snapping. “Nine o’clock in the morning?”

“That is correct,” the voice replied smoothly. “At Kingsley Tower. Floor twenty. Ask for the human resources office at the front desk.”

“Yes,” I said, swallowing hard. “Yes, I will be there. Thank you.”

The line went dead with a quiet click. I lowered the phone and stared at the dark screen. The silence in the room suddenly felt very loud. The clock on the wall read five o’clock in the evening . That gave me sixteen hours. Less than sixteen hours to prepare for the biggest morning of my life.

“Who was that?” Luca called out from the kitchen. He walked into the living room holding a wooden spoon in one hand and a dish towel over his shoulder. “You look like you just saw a ghost, Olivia.”

“It was Kingsley Tower,” I whispered. My knees felt weak, so I sat down fast on the edge of the sofa. The worn fabric brushed against the back of my legs. “They want me to come in tomorrow morning. For an interview.”

Luca dropped the wooden spoon onto the coffee table with a loud clatter. “Tomorrow? That is amazing news! Why aren't you jumping up and down?”

“Because I have nothing to wear,” I said, my chest tightening. “And I have nothing to say. Luca, look at my resume. There is a blank space on it that lasts for seven whole years. Seven years where I didn't work. Seven years where I stayed inside a house because Damian told me I wasn't smart enough to work in an office.”

“Stop,” Luca said, raising a hand. He set his dish towel on the side table and pointed a finger at me. “We are not doing this today. You are not going to talk down about yourself.”

“It’s not just talking, Luca,” I said. I stood back up and began pacing across the small rug. My feet made quiet thuds on the floorboards. “How do I hide seven years of damage in one twenty-minute conversation? What if I flinch when the manager raises his voice? What if I start apologizing for no reason? What if they look at me and see someone who isn't good enough?”

“They are going to look at you and see a professional,” Luca said sternly. He marched toward my small bedroom at the end of the hallway. “Come here. Right now.”

I followed him into the room. Luca opened my closet doors. The metal hinges creaked softly. He started pulling clothes off the hangers, sliding them across the bar with quick, loud swooshes.

He pulled out my favorite gray cardigan—the long, baggy one that covered my hips and hid my hands in the oversized sleeves.

“No,” Luca said immediately, tossing the gray cardigan onto the bed.

“Hey, I like that sweater,” I protested, reaching out to grab it back. “It’s soft. It keeps me warm.”

“It hides you,” Luca corrected, stepping between me and the bed. “You wear that sweater when you want to look like part of the wallpaper. You wear it so people won't look at your body. We are not hiding tomorrow, Olivia.”

“Luca, I’m a plus-size woman going into a high-rise office building,” I said, looking down at my hands. I rubbed my thumb over my knuckles, a nervous habit I couldn't seem to break. “People look at me anyway. And usually, they aren't very kind about it.”

“Then let them look,” Luca said softly. His voice lost its sharp edge. He turned back to the closet and pulled out a dark navy blue suit jacket and matching trousers. He had bought it for me at a thrift store three weeks ago, but we had tailored it to fit my shoulders exactly. “This suit isn't meant to make you look smaller. It isn't meant to hide your curves or make you blend into the background. It is meant to show that you belong in the room. It lets you take up space.”

He held the jacket out to me. The fabric felt firm and crisp under my fingertips.

“Put it on,” Luca ordered gently.

I took off my loose shirt and pulled the navy jacket over my arms. The shoulders were structured, holding my back straight as soon as I slipped my arms into the sleeves. I zipped up the trousers and buttoned the front of the jacket. The button clicked into place right at my waist.

Luca dragged me by my wrist toward the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the bedroom door.

“Look at yourself,” Luca said, standing right behind me. “What do you see?”

I looked into the glass. I didn't see the baggy cardigan. I didn't see the slumped shoulders I usually kept when walking down the street. The dark blue fabric lined my shoulders neatly. My neck looked longer. The sharp collar framed my face, drawing attention to my eyes instead of my stomach or my hips.

“I look... different,” I whispered.

“You look like an executive,” Luca said firmly. “Now, we practice what you are going to say.”

Luca sat down on the wooden chair by my desk. He picked up a yellow notepad and a black pen, clicking it twice. He looked at me over the top of the notepad, narrowing his eyes to look like a stern boss.

“Miss Bennett,” Luca said, making his voice deep and formal. “Why is there a seven-year gap on your resume?”

My stomach twisted into a hard knot. My throat felt dry instantly. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My hands began to shake at my sides, and my right foot started tapping against the floorboard.

“I... well, I was married,” I stammered, looking down at my shoes. “And my husband didn't really want me to work. He said I wasn't good at organizing things anyway, so I stayed home and”

“Stop!” Luca snapped his fingers. “Redo! Never bring up his name. Never speak like you are asking for forgiveness. Look me in the eye.”

I lifted my head, but my gaze kept sliding down toward the floor. “It’s hard, Luca.”

“Try again,” Luca said softly. “You managed a house. You managed schedules, budgets, vendors, and events. Frame it as management.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I pictured the woman I used to be before I met Damian—the woman who graduated with honors, who spoke clearly in boardrooms, who wasn't afraid to state her opinion. I opened my eyes and looked straight into Luca’s gaze in the mirror.

“During those seven years, I managed a private residential estate,” I said, forcing my voice to stay even and level. “I handled scheduling, event coordination, and annual budgets. Now, I am returning to the corporate sector to bring those skills to a larger team.”

Luca pointed his pen at me and smiled. “Yes! Exactly like that! Again.”