Layla?" Luca said, his warm smile giving her hope that everything would eventually be alright. "Happy birthday," he added, running his hands through his hair before presenting her with a beautiful red rose and some chocolates. She brought the flower to her nose, inhaling its lovely scent. "I'm so sorry about not being there with you last night," he said, his eyes filled with remorse.
She stood before him, waiting for a more satisfying explanation. A simple "sorry" wasn't enough. He took a step closer, his hands enveloping hers, and for a moment, she felt a glimmer of happiness and hope. But his solemn expression hinted at more serious words to come, words that would shatter her heart. His intense gaze sent shivers down her spine, and she felt a sense of dread. She braced herself for the worst, thinking he would end their relationship right then and there. "You need to leave the apartment by the end of the day," he said, his words hitting her like a ton of bricks. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. He had given her the apartment, but she never expected it to end like this.
She laughed, a pained, disbelieving sound, as if she hadn't heard him right. "I'm serious," he said, his expression unyielding. When she could no longer find the joke funny, she hurled the flower and chocolate at him, her tiny voice rising to a shout. "You weren't even there on my birthday!" she accused, her face set in a stern mask, but her tears betrayed her, flowing like a faucet that couldn't be turned off. She thought to herself, "Why should he see her tears?" ,as if hiding her pain would somehow protect her from the hurt he had caused.
"You cheated on me without even bothering to come up with a decent excuse, and now you are kicking me out?" She paced back and forth, her anger and hurt simmering. "I know I wronged you, and I'm really sorry about it," he said, his words lacking sincerity, "but you need to leave this place by the end of the day." He showed no empathy, no remorse, just a cold, hard heart. Thea had been right all along; she should have saved up and gotten her own apartment. Why did he have to be so cruel? "Even landlords give extensions on eviction notices," she spat, her eyes blazing with hatred. She fought the urge to slap him, her self-control barely holding. "It's not like I wanted to," he continued, "but Harper was so insecure about you."
She was taken aback, unsure what she had just heard. Was Harper now dictating his actions? "I'm sure you two will make a lovely couple," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm as she grabbed her bag. "When I find a place to stay, I'll move out." She hastened towards the door, eager to escape his next hurtful comment. "I'm afraid that won't be possible," he said, his expression unyielding. She turned back to face him, her eyes pleading, but she refused to beg. "You will definitely regret this, I promise you," she said, her voice firm, but her feet felt heavy, as if a strong magnet was pulling her back. She forced herself to move towards the door, her steps slow and labored. "Your things will be out on the curb by the time you return," he added, his words a harsh reminder of her impending homelessness.
She was speechless, unable to find the words to express her emotions. She left the apartment, her mind racing with questions. What had happened to the man she fell in love with? The one who was kind, generous, and caring? Even with his busy schedule, he always made time for her. She should have noticed when things started to change.
She hailed a ride she had booked earlier and headed straight to the office. At the office, the electronic door slid open, revealing a figure dressed in a black sweatshirt and leather trousers, paired with black biker boots. The outfit was clearly expensive, worth thousands of dollars, and possibly one of a kind in the country.
He had dark brown hair, neatly cut and styled, complementing his light colored eyes and fair skin. His hawkish nose and defined cheekbones added to his chiseled features. His eyes were deep and expressionless, capable of rendering one lost with just a single stare. His face was a mask of mystery, making it impossible to discern his thoughts or anticipate his next move. With a devilish look, he exuded an aura of intensity, making one's heart race. Despite the absence of a smile, his handsomeness was undeniable, leaving a lasting impression.
As he entered the office, he walked past the desk, only to be halted by the sound of someone crying. He glanced over to see a lady with her head down, oblivious to his presence. Possibly the new assistant, he thought, and quietly made his way to his office without making a sound.
Just then, the office telecom rang, piercing the silence. Layla, still crying, lifted her head to realize it wasn't her phone. She composed herself and answered, "Office of the Chairman ." There was a moment of silence before a cold, commanding voice spoke from the other end, "Come to my office now." The authority in his tone was unmistakable, leaving no doubt who was on the other end of the line.
She wondered when he had passed by without her noticing, or if there was a door directly to his office that she hadn't seen. She was left speechless, her first day already ruined. She checked her face in the mirror and saw how swollen and red it was from crying. She had applied a lot of foundation, but it would still be obvious. She took a deep breath, put on her sunglasses, and stood up, resigning herself to her fate. "Whatever happens, so be it," she thought, trying to muster some courage.
As she stood outside the door, a head emerged, and she searched for the owner of the voice. Taking a deep breath, she knocked, and the response came, "Come in." The voice was tantalizing, and she hadn't even seen the person yet. She entered cautiously and found herself face to face with a stunning figure standing by the bookshelf, engrossed in a book. He was a vision of perfection, from head to toe, with every feature defined and chiseled. This was her first encounter with him, and she understood why women went crazy over him. As the front entrance receptionist, she had never seen him walk through the main entrance, he always took the elevator through the lobby. He embodied the essence of a handsome, naturally crafted physique. She was at a loss for where to begin admiring. As he turned towards her, she quickly averted her gaze, remembering the crucial tip from her coworkers, never look at him directly.
"Good morning, sir," she said, hoping to avoid his ire on her first day. He settled into his seat and asked, "Why the glasses?" She attempted to adjust them, "I had an injury, and it's not pleasant to look at." Her gaze remained downcast, and she felt her face growing hotter by the second. He rolled his chair closer, his eyes fixed on her, and asked, "Injuries or a face swollen from crying?" His tone was inquisitive, but she sensed a hint of disapproval. She wondered if he had witnessed her tearful moment earlier.
Did he see me crying? He must have walked by while I was sobbing. Why didn't I notice him passing by? She lifted her face, now gazing at him. Is he going to fire me on my first day? I haven't even had a chance to prove myself. "Remove your glasses," he commanded, his tone authoritative, as if born to lead. "But, sir..." she stuttered, but his piercing gaze made her feel like shrinking away. She wished the earth would swallow her whole. Suddenly, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Were they trying to save her or humiliate her further? He gave her a expectant look, and she hesitantly removed her glasses, standing straight and facing him. She wanted to look away, but her gaze was frozen on his, her entire face fixed on his intense stare.
He found himself wondering why she was crying, though it wasn't his concern. Yet, he was drawn to her. When she removed her glasses, her red, swollen, and puffy eyes revealed a depth of pain. Her voice cracked, and her bitten lip hinted at her struggles. She seemed to have gone without sleep for days. He guessed she had been through a lot lately. What could have hurt this beautiful, innocent looking lady? Her red lips suggested she had been biting them, a habit she still hadn't broken. Her slender figure and long legs added to her elegance, and her long black hair cascaded down her back. He couldn't tear his gaze away, transfixed by the space between them.
She burst into loud sobs, and he could no longer restrain himself, though he remained seated. "Why are you crying?" he asked, but she didn't wait for him to finish before pouring out her heart. Her words tumbled out in a torrent, and he felt an overwhelming urge to shield her from harm. "My life is miserable," she sobbed. "Yesterday was my birthday, and I spent the day waiting for him, only to find him in bed with another woman. And to make matters worse, I was supposed to start working for you today, but this morning, he kicked me out." She collapsed to the floor, overcome with grief. She was talking about her boyfriend, or rather, her ex. He felt a strong desire to embrace her, to offer comfort and protection, but he couldn't move. Who was this cruel man who had treated her so badly?
She continued to cry, her head buried in her knees, her hands clutching her legs tightly. He couldn't help but admire her, even in her distress. She lifted her head, her eyes red and puffy, and said, "I know you'll fire me soon, but working with you might be even more miserable." He stood up and walked to the door, saying, "There's nothing to do anyway. Take a week's break, and hopefully, you'll feel better by then." She heard the door close, expecting to hear "Get out of my office!" instead. Did he just give her a break? A whole week? She raised her head, realizing she was alone, and wiped her face, feeling a mix of happiness and surprise. Going home to rest was exactly what she needed. She ordered chicken and alcohol, "To be delivered before I get home..."