The Glance
1011 Words
It was a Monday morning, and Anna was running late. Her alarm hadn’t gone off, and she had spent too much time trying to pick an outfit that balanced professionalism with charm. She ended up in a fitted white blouse that accentuated her curves, tucked into a sleek black pencil skirt that stopped just above her knees. Her heels clicked furiously against the pavement as she power-walked into the company compound, her long dark hair fluttering behind her.
Just as she turned the corner leading to the main entrance, a sleek, dark grey Mercedes-Benz Maybach S-Class rolled into the private parking area reserved for top-level executives and special guests. The car glided to a smooth halt, the shine of its polish catching the sunlight just right, like something straight out of a commercial.
The driver’s door opened, and he stepped out.
Tall. Commanding. Immaculately dressed in a tailored navy-blue suit that looked like it had been crafted by the gods themselves. His white dress shirt peeked slightly beneath his blazer, open just enough to hint at the sculpted body beneath. His tie hung neatly, and his black shoes gleamed. But it wasn’t just his attire—it was the way he wore it. Confident, effortless, magnetic.
Anna stopped in her tracks, breath caught in her throat. Her eyes roamed his frame shamelessly. The man’s physique was the kind she fantasized about. He looked like he lived in the gym—broad shoulders, a firm chest, and just the right amount of muscle filling out his suit without making it look strained. The way his slacks hugged his thighs… she swallowed hard.
She knew she should keep walking, but her feet wouldn’t move. Her body reacted before her brain caught up. A pool of heat gathered in her belly. Her eyes fixated on him—this mystery man who looked like sin wrapped in Armani.
Then she tripped.
Her heel caught in a crack on the pavement, and she stumbled forward with a gasp, nearly falling flat on her face. She caught herself just in time, managing to look somewhat composed as she straightened her skirt and hair, cheeks burning.
But the man hadn’t even looked her way. He was too busy pressing something on his phone. Without glancing at her, he walked past the reception and made his way into the company building, leaving behind a trail of expensive cologne and an unshakable impression.
Anna stood there, stunned and embarrassed, and slightly offended. How do you not notice a woman nearly breaking her ankle in your presence?
She didn’t know who he was, but he clearly wasn’t just anyone. The car. The suit. The attitude. The way security gave him a subtle nod as he walked in—it screamed influence. And s*x appeal. God, that body…
She finally snapped out of her trance and rushed inside, still flustered.
Upstairs, in one of the premium executive suites, Anthony Moretti, the CEO of Moretti Global, was settling into a plush leather seat across from his longtime friend and business partner, Marco.
“Did hell freeze over, or am I seeing you in my office before noon?” Marco joked, clearly surprised.
Anthony gave him a rare smirk. “I needed a break from my mother’s daily sermons about marriage and heirs.”
Marco chuckled. “She’s still on your neck about that?”
“Every damn day,” Anthony replied, loosening his tie. “She thinks because all my friends are married, I should be too. Like marriage is a requirement to run a billion-dollar company.”
“To be fair, she’s probably just worried about your succession. You’re not exactly bringing women home.”
“That’s the point,” Anthony muttered. “I don’t bring them home because I don’t want them thinking there’s more to it. I already know most of them are after one thing—my money. My name.”
“You can’t avoid women forever, Tony.”
“I’m not avoiding them. I just don’t want distractions.”
The office was designed more like a luxury lounge than a corporate workspace. A sleek espresso machine sat on a counter near the wall, next to a small bar. The windows offered a panoramic view of the city—Florence, a city of timeless beauty, and the headquarters of Moretti Global. The decor was a blend of modern elegance and Italian craftsmanship: marble floors, leather furniture, and shelves stacked with business books and vintage art.
Moments later, the door opened, and Anna stepped in holding a tray with two steaming cups of coffee. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as her eyes landed on Anthony, seated like a god among men.
She had barely recovered from her earlier embarrassment. And now, here he was again, not in a hallway or car park, but in front of her, exuding a powerful presence that made her insides flutter. She kept her expression neutral, trying to play the composed secretary.
“Good morning, sirs,” she said, placing the tray on the table between them.
Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the cups. She passed one to Marco with a soft smile, but when she turned to hand Anthony his, her gaze met his for a brief second.
His eyes were dark and unreadable, not cold, but distant. He took the cup without a word, looking past her as though she were a breeze that had brushed by and left no trace.
Anna’s heart sank a little.
She left the room quietly, almost stumbling again on her way out because she couldn’t stop glancing back. He really didn’t notice me? Not even a second look?
Once she was out, she leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath.
“Get a grip, Anna,” she whispered to herself.
Inside, Anthony took a sip and sighed. “Your secretary is new?”
Marco raised an eyebrow. “Anna? No, she’s been here for years. Started as regular staff. One of the best we’ve got. Why?”
“No reason.”
- Writer
