Chapter3: THE COLD LIGHT OF DAY.
430 Words
The sun hitting the snow outside the villa was blinding, but the atmosphere inside was freezing.
I stood in the kitchen, my hands trembling as I poured his coffee. My lips still felt stained by him—the memory of his touch in the West Wing felt like a brand on my skin. I expected him to be different today. Softer. Maybe even apologetic.
I was wrong.
Lorenzo walked into the dining room at 8:00 AM sharp. His suit was charcoal gray, his hair perfectly slicked back, and his expression was a wall of granite. He didn't look at me. He sat down and opened a file, the paper snapping in the quiet room.
"Your coffee, Signor," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
"Set it down and leave," he clipped.
I froze. The heat of the previous night felt like a hallucination. "Lorenzo—"
"It’s Signor Cavelli in this room, Elena," he snapped, finally looking up. His eyes weren't haunted today; they were hostile. "Last night was a lapse in judgment. Adrenaline does strange things to a man’s pulse. Do not mistake a moment of weakness for a change in your status."
The sting was sharper than any insult he’d thrown at me before. He wasn't just being arrogant; he was trying to push me back into my place because he was scared of how much he’d revealed.
"A lapse in judgment?" I whispered, leaning over the table. "You told me you were addicted to me. You told me you were keeping me."
"I was protecting you!" He slammed his palm onto the table, the china rattling. "The men who broke in here aren't street thugs. They are professional shadows. If they think you mean anything more to me than a girl who scrubs my floors, they will peel the skin from your bones to get to me."
He stood up, towering over me, his shadow swallowing me whole.
"I am a man with a thousand enemies, Elena. Being 'mine' isn't a fairy tale. It’s a death sentence. So, you will put on your uniform, you will clean the silver, and you will stay exactly where I can see you—as my employee. Nothing more."
He turned to walk away, but stopped at the door, his back to me. His shoulders were tense, his knuckles white as he gripped the doorframe.
"And Elena?"
"Yes?"
"Don't look at me like that again. Not if you want to stay in this house."
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