It was the day of my interview at Aurelian Group.
After months of sending out applications and watching my savings slowly disappear, I had finally secured an opportunity worthy of my ambitions.
Rome had no shortage of companies. The right ones, however, were rare.
Traffic trapped me for nearly an hour, even though the office was barely ten kilometers from my apartment.
By the time I reached the city center, the building took my breath away. Ancient. Imposing. Restored with meticulous care. It wasn't just beautiful… it carried authority.
The name Aurelian Group was engraved in dark steel against marble at the entrance. It didn't need explanation.
In Rome, everyone knew it. Investments. International real estate. Quiet, decisive acquisitions.
I drew a steady breath and walked in.
Two receptionists looked up at me with mild boredom.
"How can we help you?" The blonde asked.
"I have an interview. I spoke on the phone with Marco."
"Name?"
"Crystal Tura."
She checked a folder. "Yes. Ten o'clock. You can wait in the lounge."
I stood there a second too long.
"Straight ahead, then right," she added flatly.
I sat in the indicated waiting area. Twenty minutes crawled by. Every sound in the corridor made me straighten my spine.
Finally, a man in his forties appeared at the doorway.
"Crystal Tura?"
"Yes." I shook his hand.
"Sorry for the wait. I'm Marco. Come with me."
His smile was genuine. He led me into his office. Minimal and refined.
"I've reviewed your résumé," he said, taking a seat across from me. "It's impressive. But I conduct interviews a little differently."
"In what way?"
"Tell me about a moment in your life when your real self came out. Not the version you show people. The authentic one."
The question caught me off guard. It wasn't technical. It was personal.
I was about to answer when the door opened without a knock.
"Marco. My office. Now."
My blood ran cold. I recognized the voice instantly. I turned hoping it wasn't HIM.
But he was the man from the car. Dark shirt. Sleeves rolled up, revealing sharp lines of ink beneath. His expression colder than it had been the night before.
His eyes settled on me for a fraction of a second without surprise. Just assessment.
"I'm in the middle of an interview," Marco said, uncertainty creeping into his voice.
"I said. Now."
He didn't raise his tone. He didn't need to.
Marco gave me an apologetic look and stepped out.
Silence stretched and ten minutes passed since Marco left me here waiting for him.
Then the door opened again but it wasn't Marco.
The man from the night before walked in. Same dark shirt. Same controlled presence.
I didn't need an introduction.
His name was on every floor of the building: Axel Valenti. Founder and CEO of Aurelian Group.
He entered calmly and took the seat that had belonged to Marco moments earlier.
"Where's Marco?" I asked before I could stop myself.
"He no longer works here."
My stomach tightened. "I had an interview."
"You still do."
He studied me without restraint. Not the way a man looks at a woman. The way an investor evaluates an asset.
"When can you start?"
I didn't answer immediately. "For which position? Because–"
"My personal assistant." He answered, interrupting me before I could finish.
"That's not what I applied for."
"I'm aware."
I paused to think. Under Axel's gaze, I felt examined. Every movement, every word measured and recorded. His eyes didn't simply look at me; they assessed me.
I knew there was more beneath the surface. The offer of personal assistant hadn't felt transparent. It felt like being handed a sealed box, one I was expected to accept without asking what was inside.
"Why me?" I asked, even though my mind was crowded with unanswered questions.
A flicker of interest crossed his eyes.
"Because you didn't look away last night. You held eye contact. Confident people do that. Or people who have something to prove."
"You recognized me," I murmured, more to myself than to him and he heard it.
My pulse quickened as his words settled in.
"The salary?" I asked.
"Higher than the role you applied for."
"And the responsibilities?"
He leaned forward slightly.
"Precision. Discretion. Loyalty. And you will follow my directives without questioning them in front of others."
He didn't say obey. He didn't have to.
I should have stood up, thanked him and left.
Instead, I stayed seated because I needed the job. But that wasn't the only reason.
There was something in the way he had chosen me. Not randomly. Not because of my résumé.
"When do I start?" I asked.
A shadow of satisfaction crossed his face.
"Tomorrow."