Until He Sees Me - Broken Yet His

Chapter 3 - A Lesson In Respect

The hours blur after that. I check everything twice, then three times, my hands jittery because if I miss one thing, it’s all over. Details gotta be sharp, corners spotless.

Massimo’s everywhere, stalking the room like he’s sniffing out cracks. He probably is. Those gray eyes catch everything, a tilted frame, a fingerprint on glass, me ducking behind gear like a kid hiding from trouble. When he brushes past, my nerves explode.

Palms slick, heart slamming. I hate how my body sells me out, like I’m some girl with a stupid crush instead of just doing my damn job.

Samantha zips by, arms loaded with last-minute crap.

“Emma, you see him move those tables? Three times! Guy’s a control freak on steroids.’’

I nod, clipboard up like a shield, but I’m peeking anyway.

The way he owns the space without a word, people snapping straight when he glances over. It pulls me in, even when it terrifies me. Especially then. What the hell is wrong with me?

Even here, I feel eyes on me, like Mom’s still lurking, judging every move.

⸻

Guests start trickling in around seven. Rich people in clothes that cost more than my car, the kind who make rooms feel smaller just by existing. Everything looks perfect. Finally.

Then the universe decides to f**k with me.

An awful crackling sound fills the air, followed by an electric pop that makes my molars ache. Half the lights die instantly, throwing the room into weird, uneven shadows that make everyone look like they’re in a horror movie.

The silence is deafening.

Every guest stops mid-conversation. Every server freezes with trays halfway to tables. And every single pair of eyes turns to Massimo like he’s supposed to magically fix electricity with his bare hands.

He stands perfectly still, but I see his jaw twitch. Just once. Like he’s keeping something explosive locked behind his teeth.

“Can someone explain this?” His voice is quiet. Way too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your survival instincts scream.

Daniel, my boss, appears out of nowhere, already sweating through his shirt despite the AC.

“Mr. De Luca, the main circuit overloaded. We’re calling an electrician, but this time of night…”

“How long?”

“Two hours minimum. Could be three.”

I watch Massimo’s face. Nothing changes in his expression, but something dark flickers behind those eyes. Guests are starting to murmur, shifting uncomfortably. This isn’t just a problem, it’s a complete disaster.

But here’s the thing. I planned for this. I always plan for s**t to go wrong because it usually does. Call it pessimism or experience, whatever.

My legs feel like jelly as I stand up.

“There’s a solution.”

The words escape before my brain can stop them. Suddenly I’m the center of attention again, and I want to crawl under the nearest table and die.

Massimo’s eyes find mine across the room. He’s watching me, calculating, like he’s trying to figure out if I’ve lost my damn mind.

“I installed backup lighting last week,” I continue, voice getting stronger. What’s the worst that could happen? He already thinks I’m incompetent. “Portable LEDs, battery-powered. Professional grade. We can have full lighting in fifteen minutes.”

Dead silence. Daniel stares at me like I just lost my mind. Massimo walks toward me, each step deliberate, and I feel like a deer caught in headlights.

“Miss Miller.” His voice is silk wrapped around steel. “I appreciate your… initiative. But I handle my own emergencies.”

There it is. That tone. The one that says, know your place, little girl. Same tone Mom and Ethan used when they wanted to remind me I’m not qualified to have opinions about anything important.

“With respect, sir,” I hear myself say, “your contacts won’t be here for hours. My system is already installed and tested.”

The room goes so quiet I can hear the AC humming. No one talks back to Massimo De Luca. Ever. Especially not some nobody event coordinator who’s been here for exactly six hours.

His eyes narrow, studying me like I’m a puzzle missing pieces.

“And you believe your… backup solution meets the standards of this event?”

That word. Backup. Like what I do is second-rate. Like I’m second-rate.

Heat flares in my chest, sudden and fierce. All those family dinners where my ideas got shot down before I could finish explaining them. All those times being treated like the dumb kid in the room.

“My solution isn’t a backup, sir. It’s professional grade, specifically designed for this space. Probably better than whatever emergency fix you’re planning to jury-rig.”

The words hang in the air like a bomb with a lit fuse. I see the exact moment Massimo’s patience dies. His face goes completely blank, but his eyes… his eyes turn to ice.

“Interesting,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something dangerous. “Show me.”

It’s not a request. It’s a command wrapped in velvet threat.

Shit. What did I just do?

My hands shake as I lead the team to the storage room. Fifteen minutes later, backup lighting floods the space with warm, perfect illumination. Better than the original setup, actually. Way better.

Massimo watches every second, silent as death. When the last light clicks on, he nods once. Sharp. Final.

“Proceed,” he tells his team.

Then he walks away like nothing happened. Like I didn’t just save his entire event.

My knees felt like jelly, hands trembling as I straightened the last light. The warm glow of the LEDs should have been a victory… but instead, my chest tightened and my fingers shook, betraying every calm thought I tried to hold.

⸻

The success feels empty as the night drags on. Guests laugh and drink, complimenting the ambiance while I coordinate behind the scenes. Everything runs smoothly. Flawlessly, even. But I can feel him watching me. Always watching. Like a predator studying prey.

I need air. Like, right now. The room suddenly feels too hot, too crowded, too everything. My chest is getting tight and if I have to paste on one more fake smile, I’m going to lose it completely. I catch the eye of one of the servers and mumble something about checking on a delivery out back total bullshit, but whatever. I practically sprint for the service exit.

The second I push through that door, it’s like someone punched all the air out of me. The adrenaline crash hits me like a f*****g truck, leaving my whole body shaky and useless.

The alley behind the venue is quiet except for distant traffic and my own ragged breathing. I lean against the brick wall, finally letting myself fall apart where no one can see.

My chest feels tight. Like someone’s sitting on it. The shaking gets worse, and suddenly I can’t catch my breath properly.

Calm down, Emma. Just f*****g calm down.

But I can’t. The memories flood back. Every time I spoke up at home. Every time they looked at me like I’d ruined something perfect just by having an opinion.

“Miss Miller.”

I jump so hard I nearly fall over. Massimo stands in the doorway, silhouette backlit by the warm glow from inside. He looks like something out of a movie. The villain, probably.

“I… I just needed some air. I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t move.”

He steps into the alley, and suddenly the space shrinks to nothing. Too close. Too dangerous.

“You think that was smart in there?” His voice is controlled, but something raw bleeds underneath.“Che diavolo stavi pensando?”

I wrap my arms around myself, trying to stop the trembling that’s getting worse.

“I was trying to help…”

“Help?” Something flickers across his face, pain so quick I almost miss it. “You undermined me. In front of people who notice everything. That can’t happen. Mai più..”

His voice wavers. Just for a second, but I catch it. Fear. Actual fear.

Wait. What?

“When someone challenges me publicly…” He stops, jaw working like he’s fighting some internal war. “When they make me look weak in front of investors… I can’t afford that. Not again.” His hand twitches, like he’s about to reach for something, then drops, empty, to his side.

The last words are barely audible, but they hit me like a slap. There’s history there. Something that gutted him and left scars.

“I wasn’t trying to make you look weak,” I whisper. Tears blur my vision because of course they do. “I just thought…”

“You thought wrong. Sbagliato.”

And there it is. The killing blow, delivered with surgical precision.

He stares at me for what feels like forever. I watch his expression shift as he realizes what he’s doing to me. The anger doesn’t disappear, but something else creeps in. Something that might be regret.

When he speaks again, his voice is carefully controlled.

“Your solution was effective. Your approach was unacceptable.” He says.

He turns to leave, then stops without looking back.

“Next time you have an idea, bring it to me first. Privately. Impara il rispetto, dannazione.”

Then he’s gone, leaving me alone with the taste of victory turned to ash.

I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on cold concrete, sobbing into my knees. I should be proud, right? I saved his event. Proved I’m not the useless little girl everyone thinks I am.

But all I feel is broken. Exactly like always.

Except… buried in all that destruction, I caught a glimpse of something real. Something as damaged as me, hiding behind all that power and control.

Maybe that’s worse. Because now I can’t stop wondering what happened to him. What made him say “not again” like the words were bleeding.

And God help me, some f****d-up part of me wants to find out.