Because Of Love

“Quanto tempo ci vuole per arrivare in ufficio?” DeLuca barked next to her, making her jump. That was the second time he’d startled her that day and for two completely different reasons. The first one, she wasn’t sure she wanted to examine.

Why was he asking how long it would take to get to the office? Was he in a hurry? And why was he in such a foul mood? The only one in a hurry was her. She wasn’t sure if she could sit still for the twenty minutes it would take to get to the office with mister mood swings next to her.

“Venit minuti,” Enzo answered, to Talia’s relief, from the front passenger seat. She had temporarily lost her ability to speak.

“Why didn’t you respond? I thought you spoke Italian?”

Talia turned to find him staring at her, creases around his eyes at the intensity of his gaze that matched his terse tone. Talia stared back at him wide eyed. Was he trying to pick a fight? Why? If it was because of that little vibe that happened outside, that was all on him. She just wanted to shake his hand; he was the one who did weird tingly things to hers!

“I didn’t know the question was directed to me,” she responded, carefully.

Mr. DeLuca stared at her hard and Talia unconsciously leaned away from him until her shoulder touched the door. Well, she could see why they called him terremoto. The man was scary, even without doing a single thing or saying a single word. After what felt like an eternity, he turned away to look out the window and she finally relaxed with a quiet sigh of relief. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to transfer this escort duty to Nosey Becky.

She clenched her eyes shut, rolled her lips into her mouth and bit down hard. Guide. Guide duties. She probably shouldn’t use the word escort with Becky and billionaire in the same sentence. That had the makings of a smut novel.

The rest of the trip was fairly quiet with not even the radio on to kill the awkward silence, at least in the back seat. Joe was quietly driving and Enzo was on the phone talking, in Italian, about some files that needed to be sent somewhere.

Finally the car pulled up at the building entrance and Joe rushed out to open Mr. DeLuca’s door. She and Enzo opened their own but waited until Mr. DeLuca walked in front of them to enter the building. She was actually ready to run in the moment her foot touched the ground, but the second she took that first step, Enzo loudly cleared his throat next to her and gave her a withering look that she back tracked and waited. She felt like one of those characters in Korean dramas that followed the rich boss around in an entourage ready to leap at his command.

From the entrance to the lift to the door of his new office that had a beautiful view of the city, a number of the employees called out their good mornings and he didn’t respond to even one. Not even a grunt of acknowledgement; not even from Mr. Polite, Enzo. So she was left awkwardly waving at snubbed employees. By Elvis, even Royals waved at onlookers. She could already tell that working for DeLuca was going to be grueling.

Once the VIP was delivered, Talia dragged herself to her cubicle and collapsed into her seat, already exhausted and it was just nine in the morning.

“What’s wrong with you?” Carrie asked, with an amused smile. “He can’t possibly be that difficult?”

Talia roughly shrugged off her jacket. “I’ve dealt with difficult. I can handle difficult, but he’s just…” She had no words. But she was definitely sure of one thing: he unsettled her.

She looked down at her right hand laying on the armrest of the chair and her entire body exploded with goosebumps-again. Just thinking about that touch and how aware it had made her of him made her feel lightheaded all over again! How was that even possible? What was wrong with her? These are things read in romance novels, fiction not actual reality. It wasn’t the first time she’d met a hot guy and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Men have flirted with her before; she’d had dozens of crushes since she knew what a crush meant at the age of nine. She’d gone on numerous dates and for crying out loud she wasn’t a virgin, though the experience of losing it wasn’t something worth mentioning-the foreplay had been great, the rest, meh. So what in the world was that?

“Are you cold?”Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

Startled, she looked up at Carrie.

“You’re trembling?”

Trembling? She was trembling? She snorted a laugh, clearly she was possessed. Why on earth would she be trembling? She looked back down at the back of her hand, at where his thumb had caressed, where his fingers had spread out to swallow her whole hand and she immediately shot out of her seat.

“I can’t do this,” she said, shaking her head wildly.

“What? Can’t do what?”

Without responding to Carrie, Talia left her cubicle and marched to her immediate boss’s office. Becky wanted to look after him, well, she was welcomed to him. Talia was one hundred percent sure they would get along great.

She knocked on the door and stepped in without waiting for an invitation.

“Miss McKenna,” Mr. Perez said, sounding startled. His bushy white eyebrows were practically in his hairline; the receiver of his landline held to his ear. She’d interrupted him. Well, this couldn’t wait.

“Mr. Perez, I would like to go back to my normal duties. Please find Mr. DeLuca a professional PA,” she rapped out in a single breath.

Mr. Perez just stared at her and she returned the look, her hands fisted at her sides to hold on to her determination. She couldn’t work with him, she just couldn’t. Whatever that was, frightened her.

“I’ll call you back,” Mr. Perez said into the receiver before placing it back in its cradle. With that same hand, he scratched the back of his ear and asked, “Why?”

Talia swallowed hard. Why? If she could understand the why herself, she would-nope, she wouldn’t tell anyone about it. “I would like to focus on my project.”

“The one that needs the signatures of five executives. The very same ones who appointed you to this role you would like to give up.”

Well shit. This again. This offer-if she could call it that-no longer felt like a dangling carrot but a hostage situation.

“And when exactly would I be getting those signatures?” she asked through clenched teeth.

He clasped his hands together and leaned forward on his desk. “Now that depends on you, doesn’t it?”

“What exactly do you want me to do?”

He shrugged casually, “Just tell us what he’s up to. Like what he’s doing right now.”

With a raised brow she challenged, “You mean spy on him?”