Five
1054 Words
Of all the things I expected to happen, finding out that Rowan is my boss—no, scratch that, the CEO of the company I'm about to intern at—doesn’t even fall within the first five thousand possibilities my brain could’ve conjured.
Not that I ever imagined him jobless. Rowan was always ambitious, always restless, always dreaming too big for the tiny supermarket where he worked as a manager before I left for Florence.
But CEO of CassaNova Corp?
This?
I clearly did not see this coming.
“You don't look happy to see me, mia cara,” he drawls, tilting his head, voice dipped in silk and arrogance.
God… he looks too good it should be illegal.
A black shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal the lines of his forearm tattoos. The first two buttons undone, teasing ink and skin. Black trousers, tailored to absolute sin. His hair, messy in that calculated way that makes a girl forget her own name.
What more could a girl want?
“Anyway,” he says, pushing off the edge of his desk, the movement smooth, confident, practiced. He walks around it and sits, the chair swallowing his broad shoulders like it already knows who owns the room. “It’s a pleasure to have you two brilliant ladies interning at my company. Ms. Jones, see Monica at the reception. She’ll take you to the finance department.”
“Oh! Thank you, sir.”
Rosa’s smile is so big it nearly splits her face. She practically vibrates with excitement as she turns to me. “See you during lunch, girl!” she squeals, pulling me into a crushing hug before skipping out.
The moment the door closes, I turn back to Rowan.
“You… you own CassaNova Corp?” My voice cracks on the question, as if my brain still can’t fully commit to the words.
“Built it from scratch, baby.”
He chuckles—slow, deep, knowing—at the shock plastered across my face.
“You underestimate me, Mia Cara.”
“I… I…”
I can't find the proper words. My mind is too busy short-circuiting, because Rowan –the Rowan who used to stock shelves and flirt behind the cereal aisle—somehow built a billion-dollar empire in five years?
What the actual hell!
He watches the chaos unfolding in my expression like it’s entertainment.
“Well, Ms. Santiago,” he finally says, settling into his chair like a king on a throne, power dripping from every inhale, “welcome to CassaNova Corp.”
I swallow, forcing air into my lungs as I step farther into his office. Rowan’s eyes track the movement—slow, deliberate, assessing in a way that sends a shiver crawling up my spine.
This office… God, it’s nothing like the man I used to know.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the city, glass walls gleaming, shelves lined with awards and strategic books. A minimalist black desk.
But what catches my attention is a single framed photo on the desk. A photo of both of us at the last picnic we had before I moved. His arms are around me and we are both laughing.
I know it sounds petty, but seeing that he kept the picture after all this while stirs something in my chest it absolutely shouldn't
Everything screams power. Control. Wealth. Nothing screams “former supermarket manager.”
“I don’t understand,” I whisper before I can stop myself. “How, when, how did you do all this?”
Rowan leans back in his chair, elbows resting on the armrests, fingers steepled as he studies me.
“You left,” he says simply. “I woke up to find out you were such a coward to say goodbye. You were not here but your words stuck to me. “The word won't give you anything, Rowan. Take what's yours."
His eyes darken, something sharp and unreadable flickering there. “Year one, I worked three jobs, saved every cent. Year two, I bought my first warehouse. Year three, I built the logistics branch. And by year four…” His mouth curves, slow and lethal. “CassaNova Corp was born.”
I stare at him, stunned.
This isn’t the man I left behind.
This is someone forged in fire and ambition.
“And year five?” I ask before I can stop myself.
His gaze pins me to the spot.
“Year five,” he murmurs, “you are back.”
Heat floods my cheeks. I look away, but Rowan doesn’t allow it, he stands and walks around the desk, moving like a predator who knows his prey isn’t running.
He stops right in front of me. Too close. Too intoxicating.
I feel his warmth before he even touches me.
“Mia cara,” he says softly, brushing a stray curl behind my ear. His fingers linger against my cheek. “I worked for this. Built this. Bled for this.”
His thumb grazes my jaw, slow enough to make my knees tremble. “But don’t think, not even for a second, that I’ve forgotten the girl who left without saying goodbye.”
My breath catches.
He remembers.
“Rowan…” I whisper.
He leans closer, voice dropping into something dark and velvet.“You’re going to explain that to me one day.”
Before I can reply, there’s a sharp knock. Rowan steps back, expression shifting instantly—power slamming back into place like a mask.
“Enter.”
A tall woman in a pencil skirt walks in. “Sir, the marketing team is ready for the presentation.”
“Good,” Rowan says, his eyes never leaving mine. “Ms. Santiago, you’ll be shadowing me today.”
My stomach drops. “W–what? Why?”
He smirks.
“Because I want to see exactly what you’ve learned in Florence.”A beat.
“And because I don’t trust anyone else to handle you.”
The assistant’s eyes widen slightly, but Rowan doesn’t care.
“Let’s go,” he murmurs, brushing past me as he heads toward the door. “Stay close, baby. And try not to get lost.”
I exhale shakily, following him.
God help me…
I’m not sure if this internship will destroy me—or ruin me in the best way possible.
- Writer
