Chapter 2
923 Words
A man stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the city below as he sipped his whiskey.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Commanding.
The air around him felt colder than the room itself.
“This is the fourth time, Vicente,” Lorenzo’s voice was calm—too calm. “Is finding a competent secretary beyond your ability?”
Vicente swallowed. Whenever Lorenzo sounded calm, someone usually paid for it.
“I-I’ll fix it immediately, sir!”
“Never mind.” Lorenzo set the glass down. “I’ll handle the interviews myself.”
Minutes later, he sat in the interview room.
He had already met several applicants. Polished. Poised. Painfully predictable.
Beauty was easy to find.
Competence was not.
“Call the last one.”
He skimmed through the final résumé. Impressive credentials. Nothing extraordinary.
Just another beautiful applicant. Or so he seemed.
“Miss Isabella Ricci.”
He heard Vicente announce her name.
The moment she entered, he noticed it—the way she carried herself.
Head high. Steps steady. No hesitation.
Different.
“I’m Isabella Ricci, Mr. Moretti.” She extended her hand first. “I’ve heard a great deal about you—even in Russia.”
Professional.
That was his first impression.
He shook her hand once before releasing it.
“Sit.”
He reviewed her résumé again.
“You graduated abroad. Accounting degree. With this background, you could apply anywhere. Why my company?”
Suspicion crept in quietly.
Too polished. Too composed.
Who sent her?
“As I mentioned, I’ve heard a great deal about the Moretti Group,” she replied smoothly. “You’re right—I could apply anywhere. However…”
She paused, her expression calm.
“The question is whether they can match my expectations.”
She studied him without a word.
“I don’t believe the Moretti Group is known for undervaluing talent.”
Interesting.
His attention sharpened.
“The Moretti Group doesn’t underpay talent,” he said, leaning back slightly. He let the silence stretch between them. “The real question is whether you’re as valuable as you believe.”
He didn’t break eye contact, not even when the tension thickened.
Testing.
She didn’t flinch.
“I prefer to let my performance determine my value.”
Her smile remained steady. She didn’t look away.
Good.
Instead of ending the interview, he pulled a file from the stack and slid it across the table.
“Prove it.”
The document detailed a financial discrepancy hidden within the last quarter’s reports, combined with a scheduling conflict that could cost the company millions.
“You have ten minutes.”
She glanced at the file.
“Ten minutes?” she asked calmly. “I’ll need three.”
He didn’t react.
“The discrepancy isn’t a calculation error.” she said moments later. “It’s a duplicated allocation. The Livorno shipment was billed under two departments.”
She flipped the page.
“If it’s accidental, your finance manager needs retraining. If it’s intentional, someone is siphoning funds.”
She closed the file and slid it back to him.
Steady hands. Steadier eyes.
No relief.
No arrogance.
Just certainty.
That unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
He tapped the folder once before closing it.
“You gave me exactly what I asked for.”
A pause.
“And more.”
He met her gaze again.
“Be careful, Miss Ricci.”
His voice lowered slightly.
“I invest in what I intend to keep.”
He watched her closely.
No flicker of doubt.
No visible reaction.
She believed she belonged here.
That alone made her rare.
Most people avoided his gaze.
She met his eyes without flinching — not with arrogance, but with calculation.
He realized he had been staring longer than he should be.
Her next words brought him back to reality.
“Then I trust you won’t regret the investment, Mr. Moretti.”
Calm.
Measured.
As if his decision had never been uncertain.
Something shifted inside him.
Not admiration.
Not simple attraction.
Recognition.
Beauty became ordinary when you’d seen too much of it.
Intelligence became predictable when you’d acquired enough of it.
But it was the kind of confidence that thrived under pressure—especially the kind he applied.
That was rare.
And he did not ignore rare things.
He leaned back, studying her the way one studies a high-value acquisition.
After the interview ended and she left the room, he remained seated.
He didn’t just want her working for him.
He wanted her within reach.
Close enough to observe.
To test.
To shape.
She would stay.
One detail lingered in his mind.
When he casually mentioned doubling the salary, she hadn’t reacted.
She didn’t blink.
Didn’t lean forward.
Didn’t even smile.
For the first time, a woman hadn’t been impressed by his wealth or his name.
“Vicente.”
The door opened immediately. “Yes, sir?”
“Investigate her.”
Thirty minutes later, the file was on his desk.
He reviewed it personally.
No romantic history.
Minimal social footprint.
No visible attachments.
Good.
He closed the folder slowly.
If money didn’t move her, incentives would need to be structured differently.
He pressed the intercom.
“Amend the secretary position. She reports directly to me. Remove cross-department rotation.”
A pause.
“And revise the contract to five years.”
“Five, sir?”
“Yes.”
He ended the call.
If she was going to remain in his world, she would remain close.
Not confined.
Close.
Long-term contract. Non-compete clauses. Retention structures.
Nothing he marked as his ever escaped.
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