Chapter 2 - “Elena.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want the situation under review indefinitely.”
Her pulse accelerated.
“What do you want?”
“For once?”
“Yes.”
“You.”
There was no poetry in the word.
No smooth seduction.
Only truth.
That made it more dangerous.
Elena swallowed.
“You’re my employer.”
“I know.”
“You have power over my salary, my career, my schedule.”
“I know.”
“And if this goes badly?”
“I know.”
She studied him.
“Then knowing isn’t enough.”
His expression tightened.
“What would be?”
“Change the circumstances.”
She gently removed the briefcase from his fingers.
Then she entered her building.
Enzo remained on the sidewalk for a long time afterward.
Three days later, Elena received an envelope from the company’s legal department.
Inside was a revised employment structure.
Her position would report to the executive board rather than directly to Enzo. Compensation and termination decisions would require independent approval. Her responsibilities remained largely unchanged, but Enzo could no longer fire, discipline, or financially penalize her personally.
She marched into his office holding the papers.
“You did this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He leaned back.
“You told me to change the circumstances.”
“I didn’t mean restructure the company.”
“You should learn to be specific.”
She stared at him.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I have been told.”
“This doesn’t solve everything.”
“No.”
“Dating your boss is still a terrible idea.”
“Technically, according to page four, I’m no longer your direct boss.”
She fought a smile.
“You planned that line.”
“For two days.”
“That is deeply embarrassing.”
“For me as well.”
Their eyes held.
Then his office phone rang.
Neither moved.
It rang again.
Elena whispered, “You should answer that.”
“I should.”
He didn’t.
She stepped closer to the desk.
“Are you waiting for me to do something?”
“I’m attempting not to decide for you.”
That erased her smile.
For all his flaws, he was trying.
Not perfectly.
Not naturally.
Trying nonetheless.
Elena walked around the desk.
Enzo stood.
She stopped directly in front of him.
“You understand that one contract doesn’t give you permission to become possessive.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t get to frighten every man who speaks to me.”
His hesitation lasted slightly too long.
“Enzo.”
“I understand.”
“You don’t get to issue orders because you’re jealous.”
“Yes.”
“And if I tell you no?”
His eyes stayed on hers.
“Then it means no.”
That mattered.
More than flowers would have.
More than diamonds.
Elena raised her hand and touched his jaw.
Enzo became absolutely still.
“Good,” she whispered.
Then she kissed him.
For a man feared throughout half the city, Enzo Moretti reacted with astonishing restraint.
His hands remained at his sides for the first three seconds.
Elena almost laughed against his mouth.
Then she whispered, “You can touch me.”
His control disappeared.
One hand settled carefully at her waist. The other cupped the back of her neck as though she were something both precious and dangerous.
The kiss deepened.
Not violent.
Not claiming.
Hungry, yes.
But asking as much as taking.
When they separated, Enzo rested his forehead against hers.
“Marco is going to be unbearable.”
Elena smiled.
“Why?”
“He told me this would happen.”
“When?”
“Monaco.”
She pulled back.
“After the sunscreen incident?”
“Yes.”
“What exactly did he say?”
Enzo’s expression darkened.
“That if seeing him touch your shoulder made me look homicidal, I should probably stop pretending my interest was professional.”
Elena burst out laughing.
“I’m firing him.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m considering it.”
“You literally just promised to work on controlling your jealousy.”
“I said nothing about controlling my response to insubordination.”
She kissed him again before he could continue.
For four months, they were happy in a way neither fully trusted.
That was the cruel thing about people accustomed to danger.
Peace felt suspicious.
Elena continued working.
Enzo continued being Enzo.
They fought about security, working hours, his habit of sending food to her office when she forgot lunch, and her habit of answering emails at midnight.
They also learned each other outside work.
Enzo discovered Elena cried at old movies but denied it aggressively.
Elena learned he cooked surprisingly well but used every pan in the kitchen.
She met Maria, the elderly woman who had cared for Enzo after his mother died.
He met Elena’s father in Connecticut and endured three hours of questions from a retired accountant who was unimpressed by expensive watches.
“Your intentions toward my daughter?” her father asked.
Elena nearly choked on wine.
Enzo answered, “Serious.”
“How serious?”
“Dad.”
“Permanent,” Enzo said.
Elena stopped breathing.
Her father nodded once.
“Then behave accordingly.”
On the drive home, Elena remained quiet.
Enzo glanced at her.
“What?”
“Permanent?”
“Was that unclear?”
“You’ve never said that.”
“I assumed—”
She gave him a look.
He sighed.
“I am still learning.”
“Yes.”
He took her hand.
“I don’t know what shape our future takes. I know I want you in it.”
That was enough.
For then.
Their peace ended on a Tuesday morning in February.
Marco entered Enzo’s office without knocking.
He never did that.
Elena was there reviewing foundation budgets.
Enzo took one look at Marco’s face and stood.
“What happened?”
“We found the source of the Monaco surveillance.”
Six months had passed.
Elena’s stomach tightened.
“Who?”
Marco placed a photograph on the desk.
A middle-aged man leaving a restaurant.
Elena recognized him.
“Peter Vaughn.”
Enzo looked at her.
“You know him?”
“He works in accounting. Or he did. He helped prepare the quarterly reports I took to Monaco.”
Marco nodded.
“He’s been providing information to the Calder faction for nearly a year.”
Enzo’s face emptied of emotion.
That was always when Elena found him most frightening.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“And Monaco?”
“His contact arranged the devices.”
Elena sat down.
The room suddenly felt too small.
Enzo moved toward her automatically, then stopped.
That pause mattered.
He asked, “Do you want to hear the rest?”
Six months earlier he would have decided for her.
Elena looked at him.
“Yes.”
Marco continued.
“Vaughn believed Miss Russo had access to information he couldn’t reach. Travel schedules. Private calendars. Personal correspondence.”
“So they targeted me.”
“Yes.”
“Why now?”
Marco exchanged a glance with Enzo.
Elena caught it.
“What?”
Enzo said, “Tell her.”
Marco drew a breath.
“Vaughn knows you and Enzo are together.”
Cold spread through her.
“How?”
“We don’t know.”
Enzo’s hands clenched.
Marco continued. “Yesterday he contacted an intermediary. He offered information about your routine.”
The room went silent.
Elena heard the heating system.
Traffic forty floors below.
Her own heartbeat.
Enzo said quietly, “You’re coming to the estate tonight.”
Not a request.
Elena closed her eyes.
“Enzo.”
“He offered your routine to people who want leverage over me.”
“I understand.”
“Then there is nothing to discuss.”
“There is always something to discuss when the subject is my life.”
His temper flashed.
“So we debate until somebody puts you in a car?”
Marco started backing toward the door.
Elena pointed at him.
“Stay.”
Marco stopped.
Enzo stared at her.
“You want an audience?”
“I want someone here who will tell you when you’re being irrational.”
“I am not irrational.”
Marco looked at the ceiling.
Elena noticed.
“So did he.”
“Traitor,” Enzo muttered.
Elena stood.
“I’ll go to the estate.”
Enzo’s shoulders loosened slightly.
“Thank you.”
“But not because you ordered me.”
His jaw tightened again.
“I am choosing to go because the threat is credible.”
“Fine.”
“And we are not destroying Peter Vaughn.”
Silence.
Enzo’s eyes chilled.
“Elena.”
“No.”
“You don’t know what he did.”
“I know exactly what he did.”
“He offered you to my enemies.”
“He deserves consequences. He deserves to be exposed, removed, prosecuted where possible—”
“Where possible?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes. I also know the world I live in.”
“And I know what happens if you answer every threat with a grave.”
Marco’s expression became carefully neutral.
Enzo stepped closer.
“Men like Vaughn understand only fear.”
“Then prove you understand more than he does.”
Something in his face changed.
The anger remained.
But beneath it was pain.
Real pain.
“What if mercy costs me you?”
Elena’s voice softened.
“What if protecting me costs you everything human left inside you?”
He flinched.
She had never seen Enzo Moretti flinch.
“I love you,” she said. “But I will not become the reason you justify becoming worse.”
The room stayed silent.
Marco looked away.
Enzo whispered, “You love me?”
Elena nearly laughed from disbelief.
“That is what you heard?”
“It is the first time you’ve said it.”
Her anger dissolved.
“God, you are impossible.”
“Say it again.”
“We are discussing a security crisis.”
“Elena.”
She touched his chest.
“I love you.”
His eyes closed briefly.
When they reopened, some terrible tension had left them.
He covered her hand with his.
“I love you too.”
Marco cleared his throat.
“Wonderful. Deeply moving. We still have a traitor.”
Enzo looked at him.
“You enjoy your job far too much.”
“Some days more than others.”
Peter Vaughn disappeared from Moretti operations that afternoon.
But he did not disappear from the world.
Enzo turned over enough evidence of financial crimes to ensure Vaughn would spend years answering uncomfortable questions in courtrooms rather than alleys.
It cost Enzo money.
Influence.
And, according to several furious associates, reputation.
“People will think you’ve become soft,” one warned.
Enzo looked at Elena across the room.
“No,” he said. “They’ll think I’ve become selective.”
The threat against Elena did not vanish immediately.
For three weeks she lived at Enzo’s estate north of the city.
What began as emergency protection became an uncomfortable experiment in domestic life.
Enzo owned a house large enough for fifteen people and somehow lived like a lonely man.
One coffee cup.
One side of the bed disturbed.
A refrigerator stocked by employees with food he rarely ate.
Rooms designed for gatherings that never happened.
Elena understood something there she had never understood at the office.
Power had not given Enzo freedom.
It had given him walls.
Literal and otherwise.
One night she found him sitting alone on the terrace despite freezing temperatures.
She wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and joined him.
“You’re going to catch pneumonia.”
“My immune system fears me.”
“That may be the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.”
He made room beside him.
She sat.
For several minutes they watched snow settle over the dark grounds.
Then Enzo said, “Marco told me you asked him something yesterday.”
Elena smiled.
“I ask Marco many things.”
“You asked how long he’s worked for me.”
“Eleven years.”
“You already knew that.”
“I wanted to know what you were like before.”
“That is classified.”
“He showed me a photograph.”
May you like
Enzo groaned.
“I was twenty-three.”
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