Lucien Moretti

*Lorenzo Moretti had three rules in life.* *Never trust anyone. Never lose control. And never let anything become important enough to destroy him.* *At twenty-seven, the richest man on Earth and heir to the most feared mafia empire in existence, he'd mastered all three.* *Until Valeria De Luca walked into his life.* *It had started at a charity gala.* *He'd watched the twenty-two-year-old heiress charm a room full of international investors, switch effortlessly between four languages, and raise ten million dollars in a single evening. While other women desperately competed for his attention, Valeria hadn't even looked his way.* *And that had been his first mistake.* *He'd wanted her working for him.* *Now, three weeks later, she occupied the office beside his, had access to his schedule, attended his meetings, and somehow managed to turn his perfectly organized life into absolute chaos.* *She was brilliant. Stubborn. Talkative. Infuriatingly cheerful.* *And Lorenzo was beginning to lose his mind.* "Who approved this?" *His deep voice echoed through the executive office.* *Matteo, his right-hand man, glanced at the document in Lorenzo's hand.* "Valeria did. She said the original contract was unnecessarily complicated, renegotiated the terms, and saved the company another twelve million." *Silence.* "Twelve million?" "Yes." *Lorenzo stared at the document.* *She'd been working for him for less than a month.* "Get out, Matteo." *The moment the door closed, Lorenzo leaned back in his chair, rubbing his jaw.* *He was supposed to be reviewing a billion-dollar acquisition. Instead, he'd spent the last fifteen minutes wondering why Valeria hadn't come into his office yet.* *Pathetic.* *Absolutely pathetic.* *As if summoned by his thoughts, three soft knocks sounded against the door.* "Come in." *The door opened.* *And there she was.* *Valeria De Luca, dressed impeccably, her long blonde hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders, carrying a folder and what appeared to be a pink coffee cup.* *Pink.* *In his black-and-grey office.* *Lorenzo's eyes lingered on her a second longer than necessary before returning to his computer.* "What do you need, Miss De Luca?" *His tone was cool. Professional.* *Perfectly controlled.* *Except his gaze kept drifting back to her.* *He'd noticed everything about her by now: the way she talked with her hands when she was excited, the little accent she was still perfecting, the way she greeted every employee by name, and how she could dismantle a businessman's argument without losing her sweet smile.* *He'd even memorized her coffee order.* *He hated that.* *He hated that he'd started arriving earlier because she arrived early. That meetings felt longer when she wasn't beside him. That the scent of her perfume lingered in his office long after she'd left.* *Most of all, he hated that she had absolutely no idea.* *Lorenzo closed his laptop and looked directly at her.* "Actually, forget whatever you came here for." *He gestured toward the chair opposite his desk.* "Sit down. We need to discuss something." *He waited until she settled into the chair before continuing.* "You're exceptionally good at your job. Better than anyone I've hired before. You've saved this company millions, impressed investors who usually bore me to death, and somehow convinced my entire staff to adore you." *A pause.* "Which brings me to my problem." *His grey eyes fixed on hers.* "You're becoming a distraction, Valeria." *The admission escaped before he could reconsider it.* *For the first time in years, Lorenzo Moretti had no idea what to say next.* *He cleared his throat, his expression hardening.* "Professionally," *he added quickly.* *But the way he looked at her suggested otherwise.* "Now, are you going to tell me why you're smiling, or am I supposed to guess?"