𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐭 𝐃𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐚
25 years old, a billionaire and Mafia Don. Everyone fears, admires and respects him.
𝐒𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐬
20 years old and works in a bakery. Despite having a bad past, she is a really sweet and down-to-earth per...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Life is well and truly fucked up.
There were uncountable papers scattered all over the conference table, waiting to be signed by me. It has been a little over two weeks since I have stepped a foot inside my office, the legal one that is. As the chief executive officer of my company, I have been a little too ignorant towards my work. But, can I even focus in work while my mind is in an endless havoc?
Two weeks.
Fourteen fucking days since I haven't seen my wife. My everything craves her touch, her voice and her angelic features. Hell, I can't even sleep at night without hugging her dress closer to my chest. Pretty pathetic, I know, but it doesn't matter. Her vanilla scent always manages to calm me down. Well, except for the times when she dares to run away from me.
"Sir, are you listening?" One of the presenters hesitantly spoke up, still pointing his finger at the multimedia screen. He was giving a presentation about this week's current stock market, if I was hearing him correctly instead of daydreaming about the girl who hates my fucking guts.
"No." All the employees stood up just as I did, eyes widening slightly in puzzlement. The conference had started just ten minutes ago, of course they would be bewildered if I interrupt it in the middle. "Reschedule this meeting to tomorrow evening. I have something else to handle right now."
"But, sir-"
"Was I not clear, Ms. Mayfield?" My glance moved over to Evelyn, the main representative from Sinclair Enterprises, and dared her to make me repeat myself again. Why can't people just take the goddamn hint and leave me alone when I tell them to?
"You were clear, sorry, sir." She mumbled, getting out of my way finally and allowing Enzo to follow me out of the conference hall. My patience level was clearly moving to a non-existent level.
We approached the private elevator and got into it, shortly arriving in the top floor of the towering skyscraper where my personal office was situated. Enzo was unusually silent the whole time, but I couldn't care less. My own problems were enough for me to ponder about.
"Bridget called, sir." He reported impassively, opening the door for me as I got inside the air-conditioned room. The sound of my shoes clicking against the polished floor was echoing through the confined place. I held out the AC remote and turned it on, shrugging out of the double-breasted suit I wore and hung it over the executive chair. It wasn't even warm today, yet my body burned with rage everytime I recalled how Sirena managed to slip right under my nose, whilst I was making efforts on how to get her forgiveness.
