The corridor was still buzzing with the echo of Amara's slap when the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps filled the air.
Everyone froze.
Vincenzo Marino stepped out of his office, his dark eyes fixed on the scene before him. His presence was magnetic, commanding—like the air itself bent under his authority.
Elena's heart dropped. No… he saw everything.
Amara's smugness faltered when she noticed him. "M-Mr. Marino," she stammered, forcing a sweet smile. "It's not what it looks like, I—"
"Silence." His voice was icy, dangerous.
The hall grew still, employees peeking out from nearby offices, holding their breaths.
Vincenzo's gaze shifted to Elena, his jaw tightening at the sight of her reddened cheek. A storm brewed in his eyes—rage, protectiveness, something primal he could no longer hide.
Then, without warning, he reached forward, grabbed Amara by the arm, and dragged her down the corridor.
"Sir—! You're hurting me!" she cried, her heels scraping against the polished floor.
The staff gasped, whispering among themselves.
Vincenzo didn't stop until they were in the center of the lobby. He released her roughly, his voice echoing like a thunderclap.
"You dare lay a hand on her in my company?" His words dripped with venom. "Do you take me for a fool?"
Amara's eyes welled up, but her tears were nothing but crocodile streams. "She provoked me, Mr. Marino! That country girl doesn't belong here, she—"
"Enough." His voice cut like a blade.
The entire building seemed to hold its breath.
"You're finished here, Amara. Effective immediately—you're fired."
A collective gasp rippled through the employees who had gathered to watch.
Amara's face drained of color. "No! You can't—please, Mr. Marino, you know I've been loyal to you, I—"
"I don't reward vipers," he spat. "Get out of my sight before I call security."
Tears smeared her makeup as she stumbled back, humiliated, her eyes blazing with hatred. "This isn't over," she hissed at Elena before storming out.
All eyes turned to Vincenzo, who now stood tall in the center of the lobby. His gaze softened only when it landed on Elena, who stood frozen by the elevator with Goldie clutching her arm protectively.
For a moment, he looked as though he was about to speak—about to say the words burning in his chest. He turned slightly, facing the employees, and parted his lips.
"Elena…" he began, his voice steady, commanding. "She is—"
Elena's wide eyes caught his, pleading silently. Don't say it. Please. Not here, not now.
Her subtle shake of the head stopped him.
He exhaled, his jaw tightening, his announcement swallowed down. Instead, he gave a short nod.
"Return to your work," he ordered the crowd, his voice leaving no room for questions.
The employees scattered quickly, though the whispers were already spreading like wildfire.
Vincenzo crossed the space in long strides, stopping before Elena. His hand twitched at his side, aching to reach out and touch her cheek, but with so many eyes still lurking, he held back.
His voice softened, just for her. "You should've let me say it."
Elena met his intense gaze, her chest tightening. "Not like this," she whispered. "Not in front of everyone."
His lips curved into the faintest, frustrated smile. "Then tell me when, Elena. Because I won't wait forever."
Goldie glanced between them, biting her lip, knowing she was witnessing something no one else dared dream about.
And in that charged silence, Elena realized her life in the shadows of the Mafia's world was no longer something she could run from—it was pulling her deeper with every heartbeat.
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