Dressed in a black, long-sleeved, high-neck gown, it wasn't baggy nor slim tight—just comfortable, the way Vica liked it. She carried a black handbag, a rarity for her, but Xavier hadn't left her much of a choice.
Her hair was styled in a messy updo, with a few stray tendrils framing her face. Her makeup was simple—minimalist, yet elegant—the average Vica style. As she descended the marble staircase, her black, red-bottom heels clicked rhythmically against the polished surface, their sharp sound echoing in the still air.
Xavier couldn't take his eyes off her. He felt as though if he blinked, she might vanish like a mirage. His gaze lingered, almost reverent, as though he wished to permanently etch her image into his mind.
"So, I got dressed up just for you to gawk at me all day?" Vica asked a flicker of amusement in her voice. She had already reached the bottom of the stairs, but Xavier hadn't noticed.
"Uh… huh?" he stammered, confused and caught in the act of his shameless admiration.
Vica's steps were graceful, almost predatory. The fabric of her dress swayed subtly with each movement, the hemline teasing the polished floor. Xavier's eyes followed every twist and turn, committing to memory how the soft fabric hugged her curves. He even counted the seconds it took her to make each deliberate step.
Her expression hardened as she noticed the burning desire in his eyes. A sudden wave of irritation surged through her. The urge to claw those shameless eyes out and feed them to the vultures was overwhelming.
"A hundred and one reasons to change my mind," Vica muttered angrily as she brushed past him and headed for the door.
Xavier snapped out of his trance, a sheepish smile spreading across his face as he half-jogged to catch up. "Wait up!" he called after her.
Standing by the car, Vica crossed her arms, a deep scowl darkening her face.
"The look on your face could scare a five-year-old," Xavier teased, attempting to lighten the mood.
Vica didn't budge. She didn't even know why she was so furious. A part of her had wanted him to look at her that way. Yet another part despised the intensity of his gaze.
Xavier opened the car door for her with exaggerated politeness. "Shall we?"
"Are we done tearing through my dress with your eyes?" Vica snapped as she slid into the seat.
Xavier chuckled, shameless. "We'll be done when I rip that dress off your body."
She rolled her eyes and said nothing, slamming the door shut behind her.
---
Throughout the drive, Vica stared out of the window, her face unreadable. Outside, the world passed by in a blur of buildings and fleeting landscapes, but her thoughts were far from the scenery.
Xavier, however, couldn't resist glancing at her through the rearview mirror. The sun streaming through the window cast a golden hue on her face, accentuating her sharp jawline. He felt an itch to tell her how breathtaking she looked in that dress, but he knew better. She was already upset, and he didn't want to make it worse.
His hand brushed against her thigh, resting lightly on the bare skin. Her head snapped toward him, her sunglasses masking the fury in her eyes, but he could feel the heat radiating from her glare.
"Do you wish to lose an arm?" she asked through gritted teeth.
"Did I mention how stunning you look today?" he countered, his fingers gliding along her thigh with deliberate slowness.
"And how amazing it is that actions speak louder than words," Vica retorted, yanking his hand away with more force than necessary.
Xavier laughed, adjusting his black suit. "Just like your reactions speak louder than your words."
---
When the car finally pulled into the parking lot, Vica stepped out slowly, her black heels tapping against the concrete. Xavier carried her handbag, a gesture she didn't particularly appreciate but didn't comment on.
She tilted her head back to take in the enormous skyscraper before them, its gleaming windows reflecting the midday sun. It was unlike any building she'd encountered—modern yet intricate, towering over the city with an air of authority.
"Shall we?" Xavier asked, offering his hand.
Vica hesitated before taking it, her fingers stiff in his grasp. As they entered the building, the cool air-conditioning hit her skin, and she caught the faint scent of polished wood and expensive cologne.
A receptionist approached them—a stunning blonde with ocean-blue eyes and a polished demeanor. She wore a fitted black-and-gray dress that ended just above her knees, her ponytail neat and precise.
"Good morning, sir. Welcome back," she greeted with a small bow, her voice steady yet soft.
"Thank you, May," Xavier replied coolly. "I'm not the only one in sight, though."
"I'm sorry Sir, " The woman's composure faltered as she turned to Vica. "Good morning, ma'am," she stammered.
"The apology isn't mine," Xavier reprimanded.
"Pardon my manners, ma'am," May said with another bow.
"I'm neither merciful nor gracious," Vica responded, her tone flat and unyielding.
"This way," May said, her earlier boldness replaced by a quiet unease. She led them toward a private elevator, stepping aside to let them in. Xavier and Vica entered, still hand in hand, an air of dominance and indifference radiating off them.
"You've already made an enemy on your first day," Xavier said with a chuckle as the elevator doors closed.
Vica smirked a glint of mischief in her eyes. "She wouldn't want me as an enemy." Her voice was low and smooth, but her words carried a razor's edge.
"Right, because you're not gracious," Xavier quipped, his voice laced with sarcasm.
Vica ignored him, her gaze darting across the elevator's mirrored interior. The polished surfaces reflected the tension etched into her face, though she masked it well.
"You own all this?" she asked suddenly, her tone almost casual, though Xavier could sense the curiosity beneath it.
"I'm the head of the empire," Xavier replied, his voice contemplative. "Not sure if that means owning it."
"Big brain, huh? Must take one to keep track of all your employees. How many are there?" Vica questioned, her tone half-teasing, half-serious.
"Six hundred and thirty-seven in this building alone," Xavier answered with a small smile. "Not counting the factories."
"And yet, out of all 637, you remember the receptionist's name," Vica retorted, her eyes narrowing slightly.
Xavier's lips curled into a sly grin. "I don't recall introducing her as a receptionist. Did I?"
Vica's eyes flickered with intrigue. "Then who is she?"
"She's my cousin," Xavier said, his voice softening slightly. "Her mother decided she needed a lesson in humility and sent her to work the reception desk after some… misconduct."
Vica's expression didn't shift, though a flicker of understanding crossed her features. "Oh. Is that so."
"I guess your jealousy is dreadful," Xavier teased, his voice carrying an almost boyish amusement.
"Jealousy and curiosity aren't synonymous," Vica shot back, tilting her head defiantly.
Xavier raised an eyebrow, his amusement deepening. He stepped closer, his hand brushing hers lightly. "You're nervous," he said, his voice low, the words almost a whisper.
Vica chuckled, her laughter sharp and biting. "I have no reason to be nervous. I'm like a bird in the wind." Her tone was bold, but Xavier could see the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers fidgeted against the fabric of her dress.
"Alright, Miss Bird," Xavier said with a smirk. "Let's see what you've got."
The elevator chimed softly, signaling their arrival. Xavier stepped out first, turning to gesture for her to follow. "Come on, Miss Russo."
Vica hesitated, her pulse quickening. The polished marble floors and modern décor outside the elevator screamed opulence. It was a world away from the chaos and violence she was accustomed to.
In her mind, a voice whispered: Another world, another person, another lie. Just one girl—Ivy Warren—in Ludovica Maria Russo's body, out on a single mission.
Straightening her spine, Vica stepped out, her heels clicking against the floor. Xavier turned, his smile confident, and gestured toward the towering glass doors ahead.