Chapter 2. Work and marriage
1105 Words
Morning came too quickly for rose.
The pale sunlight bled through the curtains, stretching across the polished floor like a quiet invitation to start over. She sat up in bed, her hand brushing the empty space beside her. It was cold.
Alessandro hadn’t returned.
A small breath of relief escaped her lips. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding it in all night. Last night’s tension still clung to the walls, but with him gone, the silence felt merciful. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, pressing her feet to the floor.
She wouldn’t wait around like some caged wife. She had her own life, her own job and she intended to keep it.
Rising to her feet, she padded to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, shaking off the night. Her reflection in the mirror stared back, tired but determined. Her fingers brushed over her cheek. She wasn’t going to let fear dictate her next move.
By the time she finished getting ready, her hair was pulled into a sleek bun, and she’d dressed in a simple, professional outfit—dark jeans, a tucked in blouse, and low heels. Practical. Polished. Unapologetically her.
As she stepped out of the room and headed toward the front of the house, her pace faltered. Should she ask one of Alessandro’s men to take her to work?
She stood near the door, staring at the guards stationed outside. Their expressions were unreadable—stone faced and silent, always watching. A bitter taste touched her tongue. She didn’t want to owe him even a ride.
No.
She pulled out her phone and ordered a cab.
By the time the vehicle arrived, she walked out without a word, chin lifted. If they reported her movements to Alessandro, so be it. She wasn’t going to live in fear. Not today.
The city bustled around her, horns blaring, people moving with the familiar rhythm of another busy morning. When she stepped into the towering glass building where she worked, something inside her eased.
This place was hers. A world away from shadows and secrets.
She tapped her ID and made her way up to the office. A quiet “Good morning” passed her lips as she walked past the front desk. Then she slipped into her usual role—efficient, composed, and invisible when needed.
Rose had been a personal assistant to one of the most successful business magnates in the city for over three years. Mr. Grayson. He was driven, sharp, and obsessively private. But he trusted her.
As she walked into his office, she was greeted with his usual nod. He sat behind his desk, already immersed in a file, dark eyes scanning with laser focus.
Without waiting for instructions, Rose got to work. She handled emails, calls, schedules, and meetings like clockwork. The hours passed with quiet productivity, the outside world falling away as she buried herself in the familiar.
Meanwhile, miles away in the luxury mansion surrounded by steel gates and silent men, Alessandro De Luca finally returned.
The sound of his car tires crunching on the driveway echoed through the morning stillness. He stepped out of his sleek black car, his tailored suit immaculate despite the fact he hadn’t come home the night before.
Inside, the grand hallway was empty.
His eyes narrowed.
“Where’s my wife?” he asked coldly, striding past the guards.
One of his men stepped forward quickly. “She left earlier this morning, sir. Dressed neatly. Looked like she was heading to work.”
Alessandro’s brow furrowed. “Work?”
The word tasted wrong. Since when did she think she could come and go as she pleased? In his house? As his wife?
“Find her. Right now,” he said, his voice like thunder. The air around him chilled.
The men didn’t hesitate. Orders from Alessandro weren’t up for debate.
Within hours, two of his men spotted Rose at her workplace. But when they approached, she surprised them.
“No,” she said firmly, her voice calm but unshakable. “You will not cause a scene here.”
They hesitated. She was the boss’s wife. But she also wasn’t making a run for it. She was working. Handling business.
“You can tell him I’ll be home later. This is my job. I’ve done nothing wrong,” she added, eyes steady.
After a brief, tense silence, the men backed off and left, confused but unwilling to drag her away in public.
Evening fell, and the sky dimmed into a velvet blue.
Rose returned home in the same cab she’d taken to work, her back stiff as she stared at the looming mansion ahead. The moment the car stopped, her stomach twisted.
She stepped out and took a deep breath.
The door creaked open as she walked in. She didn’t have to look far.
Alessandro was there—waiting.
He sat on the edge of the leather couch in the grand sitting room, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly. His dark eyes locked onto her the second she walked through the door.
She stopped in her tracks.
His gaze burned. Cold. Furious. Dangerous.
He didn’t yell. He didn’t stand.
But the silence was louder than anything he could have said.
“Where were you?” His voice was low, but the edge of steel in it sent a chill down her spine.
“I went to work,” she said simply.
“You left without a word.”
“I didn’t think I needed permission to do my job.”
He stood slowly, each movement deliberate, controlled but brimming with fury.
“You’re my wife,” he growled. “You don’t disappear. You don’t walk out of this house without protection.”
“I didn’t disappear,” she replied, her voice quieter but just as steady. “I went to my workplace. I have responsibilities. A life before you.”
“That life is gone.”
“No,” she said, a flash of defiance in her eyes. “You don’t get to decide that.”
His jaw ticked. He took a step closer, then stopped. Something in her eyes, something he couldn’t quite place made him pause. Pride? Strength? Or the simple refusal to be broken?
She stood there, holding his gaze, waiting for whatever storm he might unleash.
Alessandro stared at her for a long, dangerous moment.
Then he turned away.
“Go freshen up,” he said coldly. “We’re not done.”
Her breath caught. She didn’t move.
But she knew—this was only the beginning.
She was doomed.
- Writer
