His Empire,Her Rules

3

By the time I got home, my heels had declared war on my feet.I dropped my bag on the counter, kicked them off, and leaned against the kitchen island like I’d just survived a boardroom battle which, technically, I had. My first week at De Luca Industries had been a marathon of meetings, contracts, and trying not to stab anyone with a letter opener.

The fridge hummed when I opened it. Half a bottle of white wine and leftover Thai stared back at me like loyal friends. I grabbed both.

“Rough day?”

Maya’s voice drifted from the hallway. She appeared in my oversized T-shirt the one that said ‘I’m not arguing, I’m explaining why I’m right’holding her laptop like a security blanket.

I nodded, pouring wine into a glass. “De Luca runs his company like it’s the Vatican. No room for errors. No mercy. Just immaculate suits and terrifying efficiency.”

Maya smirked, sliding onto a stool. “Immaculate suits, huh? So he’s hot.”

I shot her a look. “That’s not what I said.”

“That’s exactly what you said.”

I sighed, stabbing a fork into the Thai box. “He’s… focused. Intense. The kind of man who probably wakes up at five a.m. to ruin someone’s life and then meditates about it.”

Maya laughed, tucking her legs beneath her. “You mean he’s your type.”

I almost choked on rice. “He’s my boss. My arrogant,impossible boss one who probably has ladies and hot women dying to spend a night with him .”

“Who invited you to dinner,” she added, her grin wicked.

I groaned. “It’s a business dinner. With investors. Not a date.”

She wiggled her brows. “Mhm. And you’re totally not about to panic-pick three dresses before deciding you have nothing to wear.”

She wasn’t wrong.

I pushed my food aside and disappeared into my closet. The door clicked open to reveal rows of neatly organized clothes confidence disguised as fabric when I moved in I made sure to arrange my outfits with color themes. Maya followed, humming like a stylist on caffeine.

“So, what’s the vibe?” she asked. “Corporate queen or mysterious heiress?”

I ran a hand through my hair. “Professional. Elegant. Nothing that says sleep with me and you’ll get promoted.”

Maya pulled out a satin navy dress that hugged curves it’s one of my favorite dresses but it’s not suitable for this business dinner. “This one says I’m the hot assistant.”

I glared. “Maya.”

She held up her hands. “Fine. The black one, then. Power, class, no nonsense. Pair it with your diamond studs and that soft wave thing you do with your hair.”

I checked my reflection in the mirror black dress, gold watch, calm expression.

I looked like someone who belonged in Lorenzo De Luca’s world.

Even if part of me still wasn’t sure I wanted to.

The restaurant was one of those places that didn’t need a name just an address I’ve been here with my dad for business and family dinners and lunches I’m beginning to think this high end restaurant is only for business meetings. Crystal chandeliers, soft jazz, waiters who moved here and there like shadows.

Lorenzo was already there when I arrived. He stood as I approached, his hand sliding casually into his pocket, the gesture somehow intimate despite being utterly proper.

“Miss Hawthorne,” he greeted, eyes sweeping over me in a way that made my pulse stutter. “You’re punctual.”

“You seem surprised,” I said, slipping into my seat beside him.

“Not surprised.” His lips curved faintly. “Impressed.”

I wanted to roll my eyes, but something about his tone made it difficult to breathe, so I focused on my menu instead.

The dinner began after the investors arrived it went smoothly,discussions about quarterly targets, new partnerships, investment portfolios. I kept my voice measured, professional, even when Lorenzo occasionally looked at me instead of the charts. It was unnerving, the way he listened like he was collecting information that had nothing to do with business.

At one point, one of the investors a silver-haired man named Davenport leaned toward me. “You’re new, aren’t you? De Luca has a reputation for hiring only the best.”

Lorenzo’s gaze flicked toward him, sharp. “She is the best” something about the tome he spoke with,or maybe I’m just thinking too much of it.

The words hit harder than they should have.

I busied myself with my glass of wine to hide the warmth creeping up my neck.

Conversation flowed the night softened. Lorenzo was effortlessly charming when he wanted to be precise, strategic, but never false. When he spoke, people listened. When he looked at me, I forgot how.

By the time dessert arrived, my professional armor had cracks. I caught myself watching the way he loosened his cufflinks, the way his fingers brushed against the stem of his glass. There was a quiet confidence to him not arrogance, exactly, but something steadier dangerous.

When the dinner ended, Lorenzo offered to drop me home. I tried to decline. He ignored me. Typical I didn’t expect him to be someone who takes no for an answer.

The drive was quiet, city lights bleeding into the black of his car windows. Soft classical music played in the background, barely audible over the hum of the engine.

“Did you enjoy the evening?” he asked finally, voice low.

“I did. The food was incredible. The investors seem…” I hesitated, searching for the word. “…manageable.”

He smiled. “High praise, coming from you.”

“I’m not easily impressed.”

He glanced at me, eyes gleaming faintly under the streetlights. “Neither am I.”

For a second, the world narrowed no traffic, no sound, just the weight of his gaze and the awareness that we were teetering on a line neither of us should cross.

He pulled up in front of my building without directions from me I wanted to ask him how he knew where I lived but Lorenzo looks like someone who knows everything . The city felt quieter here, like even New York knew when to hold its breath.

“Thank you for the ride,” I said softly, unbuckling my seatbelt.

He leaned slightly closer, his cologne wrapping around me clean, dark, expensive. “Get some rest, Miss Hawthorne. Tomorrow will be… demanding.”

Something in his tone lingered long after I stepped out.

When I reached my apartment, I turned back. The car was still there, headlights glowing softly. He waited until I was inside before driving away.

Maya was sprawled on the couch when I entered, half-asleep but instantly alert when she saw me.

“Well?” she demanded, sitting up. “Tell me everything.”

I kicked off my heels and flopped beside her. “It was business.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re lying.”oh myy I forgot Maya knows me so well I mean we’ve been friends since high school.

“I’m summarizing,” I corrected.

She grinned,pulling the blanket over her legs. “So, business dinner with your rich, devastatingly attractive boss who clearly wants to marry your brain what’s next and was that his car in the driveway?”

I laughed softly, leaning my head against the couch. “Sleep. Maybe therapy.”

But as I stared at the ceiling, Lorenzo’s voice replayed in my mind that calm command, that quiet certainty.

Tomorrow would be demanding.

He wasn’t wrong.