The ghost of Darius's command hung over Layana's desk for the rest of the morning, a heavy, invisible shroud that made every click of her keyboard sound like a betrayal. His words, è solo mia, echoed in her mind, a possessive mantra that sent an unwelcome, thrilling shiver down her spine every time she replayed it.
She tried to focus on the mind-numbing task of sorting invoices, but her focus was shattered when Giovanni leaned over her cubicle wall, his handsome face breaking into an easy, disarming smile. "You look like you could use a break. And a decent cup of coffee," he said, his voice a jarringly normal sound in the tense atmosphere Darius had created. "My treat. There's a new place around the corner."
Every instinct, every cell in her body attuned to the man in the corner office, screamed at her to refuse. But a spark of defiance, fueled by the memory of Darius's unjust treatment, flared within her. He doesn't own me, she thought, the sentiment feeling dangerously flimsy even to her. I can have coffee with a colleague.
"That sounds lovely, Giovanni. Thank you," she said, her voice a little too bright.
The walk to the café was a blur of Giovanni's pleasant, flirtatious chatter. Layana nodded along, but her nerves were stretched taut, her senses on high alert, as if expecting a predator to emerge from the midday crowd. And then she saw him.
Darius.
He was standing just outside the elegant glass doors of a Michelin-starred restaurant, looking every inch the powerful vice president in his tailored slate-gray suit. And clinging to his arm was a stunning brunette, her laugh tinkling like cut glass as she whispered something in his ear. The woman was polished, beautiful, and entirely at ease with the possessive way her hand rested on Darius's bicep.
A hot, acidic jealousy, entirely irrational and completely overwhelming, flooded Layana's system. It was sharper than Darius's coffee, more potent than any wine his family's vineyards produced. He could command her solitude, threaten any man who looked at her, and then parade around with a woman who looked like that?
Giovanni, oblivious, followed her gaze. "Ah, the boss and his... associate. Come on, the café is this way."
But Layana was rooted to the spot, her eyes locked with Darius's from across the busy sidewalk. His dark gaze, which had been mildly amused moments before, iced over in an instant. It swept from her face to Giovanni's, and the temperature around them seemed to drop ten degrees. The woman on his arm sensed the shift, her smile faltering as she looked between them.
Giovanni, ever the opportunist, chose that exact moment to lean in, his hand coming to rest on the small of Layana's back. "Everything alright, Layana?"
