1

A Year Later

I am sitting in the office of Cavallaro Holdings. It is my first day working here. I adjust my white chic formal skort and my tucked in white blouse, smoothing the fabric nervously over my knees.

“Ms Batisti, the boss is expecting you,” the lady from the reception says politely.

I nod. “Thank you,” I reply as I stand up.

My heart beats a little faster as I walk toward the elevator. I press the button for the nineteenth floor and watch the doors close slowly in front of me.

This is it.

When the elevator reaches the floor of Mr Cavallaro’s office, the doors slide open with a soft chime. I step out carefully. I have not seen my boss yet because his personal assistant did my interview. She is about to quit, so they needed a replacement. And here I am.

I imagine Mr Cavallaro must be in his fifties. After all, he runs such a huge empire.

“Mr Cavallaro is waiting,” Jane says as soon as she notices me. She is the personal assistant who interviewed me and the one who will be training me before she leaves.

She knocks twice on the door before opening it.

A man stands inside with his back facing us. He is wearing a black suit, tall and broad shouldered, with his hands casually resting inside his pockets.

“Mr Cavallaro, Ms Bianca Batisti is here,” Jane announces.

The man slowly turns around. My heart skips a beat. He is… handsome. Strikingly handsome.

A trimmed black beard frames his sharp jaw. His dark hair is slicked back perfectly. Tattoos decorate his knuckles and disappear beneath the collar of his shirt, crawling up his neck. There is something dangerous about him, something cold and powerful. His dark eyes slowly travel from my head to my toes, studying me carefully.

I nervously clutch my handbag tighter under his intense gaze. My hands feel sweaty.

I definitely did not expect my boss to be so young and… dashing.

“Good morning, Ms Batisti,” he says, his voice deep and calm while those piercing black eyes remain fixed on me.

“Good morning, sir,” I reply softly.

“Can I have a moment, please?” he says, glancing briefly at Jane.

She nods and quietly leaves the office.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing toward the chair in front of his desk.

I nod and sit down.

He sits across from me. A faint scent surrounds him. Bergamot mixed with something darker and spicier. I wonder if it is Dior Sauvage, though I cannot be sure. I have not really been around many men in my twenty two years of life, so I would not know.

“Your résumé says you do not have previous work experience, and that you hold a bachelor’s degree in business. So what brings you here?” he asks calmly.

“I have recently graduated,” I explain. “During my final year at university I worked part time at an art gallery. After graduating I started searching for a proper job, and I was fortunate enough to receive this opportunity. I am very grateful to be working here.”

“Gallery?” He repeats with mild curiosity.

I nod. “Yes. An art gallery that displays and sells paintings. I am very passionate about art, and I needed to support myself, so I worked there for about six months.”

He taps his pen slowly against the glass desk while listening to me. After a moment he nods.

“Okay.”

He leans back slightly in his chair.

“As you know, you have been appointed as my personal assistant. That means you will attend meetings with me, manage my schedule, prepare my coffee, meet with my associates, take my important calls, and…” He pauses briefly before continuing. “You will also travel with me when necessary, even if those meetings are in another country.”

Another country too?

For a second I feel surprised, but I quickly nod.

“Okay,” I say with a small smile.

“Welcome to Cavallaro Holdings,” he says, extending his hand toward me.

I reach forward and shake it. But he does not immediately release my hand. I look up at him and notice a mischievous glint in his dark eyes.

“You smell like neroli and jasmine,” he says slowly. “I like your perfume. Sweet and intoxicating.”

The compliment surprises me.

During the interview Jane mentioned that Mr Cavallaro was a very reserved man who rarely spoke unless he was giving orders.

“Thank you,” I reply softly. “It is Prada Milano.”

I gently withdraw my hand from his. When he says nothing more, I stand up and grab my handbag. I walk toward the door, open it quietly, and leave his office.

Outside, the office floor feels strangely silent.

Everyone is buried in their computers. No one lifts their head. No one speaks to each other. The entire place feels serious and focused.

Jane approaches me almost immediately.

“How was your meeting with Mr Cavallaro?” She asks.

“It was good,” I answer.

She exhales in relief.

“Good. Now come, let me show you your desk.”

She leads me down a short hallway and opens a small office. Inside is a cozy workspace with a sleek glass desk and a computer placed neatly on top.

“You will be working here,” she explains.

“Okay, great.”

She nods.

“So every morning you must prepare Mr Cavallaro’s coffee. He likes black espresso without sugar. He hates sugar. In fact, he does not like anything sweet.” She widens her eyes slightly. “And working with the Cavallaro as a personal assistant means you get the privilege of being treated almost like a family member. Wherever he goes, his PA usually goes with him.”

“Yeah, that is fine,” I say with a nod.

She leans closer and lowers her voice. “It just so happens that Mr Cavallaro belongs to a crime family syndicate here in Las Vegas.”

My lips form a small ‘O’. “Oh. I see.”

It does not shock me at all. After all, I used to belong to a crime family too.

“So you are okay with that?” She asks carefully.

“Yeah,” I reply with a grin.

“Thank God,” she sighs.

My eyebrows knit together slightly.

“Why are you quitting this job?” I ask curiously.

She shakes her head slowly.

“Not to be rude,” she whispers, “but I once saw our boss crack someone’s skull.”

I try very hard not to smile. It does not shock me in the slightest.

“Okay,” I reply calmly.

I start working through the tasks of the day. I make coffee for the boss. I do some data entry on the computer. I check Mr Cavallaro’s schedule.

So far, I am actually loving this job. At the end of the day, when the clock finally reaches four, I shut down my computer, grab my handbag, and step out of my office.

At the same moment Mr Cavallaro exits his office next to mine. His eyes linger on me for a moment longer than necessary.

“Goodbye, sir,” I say quietly, my voice almost a whisper.

He simply nods. We both step into the elevator together, and suddenly we are alone. All I can smell is his strong cologne, and I can feel his eyes occasionally glancing toward me. The elevator doors open on the underground parking level, and I quickly walk toward my car.

I get inside and start the engine. From the corner of my eye I watch Leonardo Cavallaro walk across the parking lot toward a black Aston Martin.

Damn. My boss is incredibly handsome. And he is a mafia man too.

Can I really be attracted to my boss?