𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Before we start, thank you so much for 5k views!! I really appreciate it!!

I'm a fucking idiot, that's for sure. That's the only reason that explains why the hell I'm standing in front of DeLuca Enterprise, with takeaway, debating if I should walk in or not.

It should be clear: don't walk in. But I'm an idiot, so instead of going home on my free day and eating this Chinese takeaway by myself, while watching the show I've been binging for a week, I walk in the enormous, oddly intimidating building.

Immediately, I regret wearing sweats and sneakers, when everyone turns to look at me. I'm the only one dressed casually, which makes me stand out a lot.

The beautiful women in suits and skirts stare at me in nothing but disgust and I want to crawl back to my car. I'm a very confident person, but this whole place is intimidating.

Nate told me that Alessandro's office is on the last floor, but I don't know how to get there, so I make my way to the reception desk to ask.

"Hi," I say, the woman sat behind the desk looks at me and smiles, immediately making me feel more at ease. "I was just wondering where Mr DeLuca'a office is."

With a smile still plastered on her face, she quickly responds, "He's out right now, but he should be back soon. You can either wait for five minutes or come back later."

I decide to wait and sit on the empty chair. Minutes pass and he's still not here. It dawns on me that this is a horrible mistake. It makes zero sense to be here, especially after how mean I have been to him. So, I grab the bag and go back to the front desk. "Ahem, could you please not mention that I was here, to Mr DeLuca, when he gets back."

Before she gets the time to answer, someone else does for her.

My heart falls to my ass when Alessandro's deep voice reaches my ears, "And why shouldn't she, Hela?" The fact that he still respects the fact that I asked him to call me Hela, makes my heart ache a little, as I remember the hurt expression he had that day in my room when I told him to refer to me accordingly.

I turn around, ready to defend myself, but when I open my mouth, words don't come out. He's clearly amused and a smile threatens to appear on his face.

"Let's go." He grabs the bag of food and puts his hand around my waist, leading me to a private elevator, thanking the receptionist as he continues to move me, "Thanks, Bethany."

On the way up, I manage to catch a glimpse of what he's wearing. He looks so good in a suit, it should be criminal. His cologne fills the confined space and I'm quickly reminded why being with him was so addicting. Everything he did, wore or said was attractive or made him more attractive. And he definitely knows how to flip, turn and destroy your world and reality, leaving you - me - limping for days after.

And even when I was so sore I felt like I couldn't move, I still went back for more and for worse.

Once the elevator doors open, I'm awestruck by the beautiful view. There is one ceiling to floor window, that extends throughout the majority of the storey, giving a beautiful view of the city. I don't have much more time to admire, as he pulls me into his office.