Mentality of The Heart

CHAPTER 02

3rd Person POV

Today was the day Alice would officially begin working for Alexander.

The past week had been a whirlwind of restless nights and unanswered questions. Doubt clung to her like a shadow, refusing to loosen its grip. Was she truly ready for this job? Had she made the right choice, or was she walking blindly into something far beyond her control?

The uncertainty gnawed at her, relentless and unyielding. Truthfully, she didn't know what she was doing—or even what to expect—but one thing was clear. Someone needed her help, and she couldn't turn away, even if it meant stepping into the unknown and living under the same roof as a stranger.

Alice's POV

I still couldn't believe this was happening. Mr. Bianchi had called yesterday, his voice cool and authoritative, telling me someone would pick me up at 3 p.m. sharp.

Now it was 2:50, and my heart pounded in my chest like it was trying to escape. Why was I so nervous?

Time felt like it was slipping through my fingers, each second a drop I couldn't hold on to. I glanced at the clock again, only to realize ten minutes had passed without me noticing. A sharp knock on the door jolted me out of my thoughts, making me jump.

I moved to the door, my steps hesitant, as if my body instinctively wanted to delay whatever was coming. Peering through the peephole, I saw him—a man in an immaculate black suit, his expression unreadable, almost statuesque. He looked to be in his early thirties, with sharp features that made him seem like he belonged on the cover of a luxury magazine.

I hesitated, then opened the door.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Monroe. My name is Liam. Mr. Bianchi sent me to pick you up," he said with a slight bow, his voice steady, every word meticulously measured.

"Uh, please... just call me Alice," I replied, trying to sound more at ease than I felt. His formality felt out of place, but it was clear this was second nature to him.

He inclined his head, acknowledging the request, then gestured to the sleek black car waiting at the curb. Grabbing my luggage, I followed him. His movements were smooth, efficient—he loaded the trunk and opened the door for me like clockwork.

Inside the car, silence stretched out between us. My nerves bubbled under the surface, making every glance at my watch feel heavier. I tried to focus on the passing scenery, but even that couldn't quiet the unease churning in my stomach.

Two Hours Later

I was jolted awake as the car came to a stop. I hadn't realized I'd drifted off. Blinking, I saw Liam already opening the door, his hand extended toward me. I took it instinctively, letting him help me out.

As soon as my feet touched the ground, I froze.

The mansion before me was a vision—no, an empire. A sprawling estate, a seamless blend of traditional Italian elegance and modern architecture. Towers rose high into the sky, framed by marble pillars and sprawling terraces.

A massive horse fountain dominated the front lawn, its crystal-clear water catching the late afternoon sunlight in dazzling sprays. Perfectly manicured greenery framed the scene, and wide stone pathways seemed to beckon visitors deeper into this hidden world.

For a man with an intimidating reputation, Alexander Bianchi's home exuded an unexpected warmth, though it didn't quite settle my nerves. Beneath the beauty, a subtle tension hung in the air, leaving me unsure of what lay ahead.

A man who could've been mistaken for a human mountain—broad shoulders, a stoic expression—approached and took my luggage. As he disappeared into the house, another figure emerged from the shadows.