Elena Romano lived two lives.
By day, she was the picture of normalcy—an ordinary woman in an ordinary job, pushing papers and answering phones in the kind of office people forgot existed the second they walked out the door. She was efficient enough, polite enough, quiet enough to never draw attention to herself. Her coworkers would describe her as "nice" if asked, maybe "a little shy," but none of them truly knew her. None of them could imagine the kind of hunger that burned behind her careful smile.
Elena made sure of it.
Her mornings began with the same routine: coffee in a chipped porcelain mug, toast she rarely finished, and the twenty-minute bus ride downtown to the bland five-story building where she worked as an administrative assistant. She sat at her desk near the window, where the sunlight bleached the top corner of her monitor, and dutifully filed reports, typed letters, scheduled meetings for people who barely remembered her name.But behind her polite nods and mechanical typing, her mind was elsewhere.
It was always on him.
Dominic Moretti.
Even the thought of his name sent a shiver through her spine. A man like him had no business in her world, no reason to even breathe the same air as her. Yet, she had seen him—once, purely by accident—and from that moment, her life had unraveled.
It had been a Tuesday night three months ago. She had been walking home after working late, tired, distracted, when she saw him step out of a sleek black car beneath the glow of a streetlamp. He moved with quiet power, with the kind of presence that made the night itself bend around him. He hadn't seen her. Of course he hadn't. But she had seen him. And she hadn't been able to stop.
Her obsession had started with stolen glimpses, then secret photos, then hours of online searching that turned into folders full of scraps of information about him. Rumors about his business. Articles that hinted at darker dealings. Whispers of the name "Moretti" tied to things she couldn't even begin to process.She told herself it didn't matter.She wasn't interested in his world, not really. She was interested in him.
The man. The myth. The walking storm that carried danger in his veins and command in his stride.And Elena Romano, invisible little assistant, had decided he would be hers.
"Earth to Elena."
The voice jolted her from her thoughts. She blinked and looked up from the spreadsheet on her screen to see Marcy, the receptionist, grinning down at her. Marcy was everything Elena was not—bubbly, loud, the type who filled any silence with chatter.
"You've been staring at the same cell for five minutes," Marcy teased, plopping a stack of envelopes on Elena's desk. "Thinking about your secret boyfriend again?"
Elena's lips twitched. She had perfected the art of smiling without revealing anything. "No boyfriend," she said lightly.
Marcy smirked. "Sure. Your cheeks say otherwise."
Elena lowered her gaze, pretending to busy herself with the mail. She could never let anyone know. If anyone even caught a glimpse of the depth of her fixation, they'd call her crazy. They'd whisper behind her back, maybe report her.
They wouldn't understand.This wasn't madness. This was destiny.
When Marcy finally left, humming her way back to the front desk, Elena let out a slow breath. Her pulse still thrummed from the near slip. She reached into the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out her phone, slipping it beneath the desk where no one could see.
There he was.A photo she had taken last night, the latest addition to her private collection. He was stepping into a restaurant, a shadow cutting across his sharp jawline, his suit crisp even in the dim light. She zoomed in until his face filled the screen, every line and angle etched into her memory.
Her thumb brushed over the glass like she was touching him.Her stomach fluttered.
She had rules. Rules that kept her safe, rules that made this possible. Never follow him too closely. Never let him see her face. Never, ever let him know. She repeated them like prayers, the commandments of her secret religion.
And yet…
The rules were starting to feel like chains.By the time the clock struck five, Elena's workday had dissolved into nothing more than a blur of mechanical motions. Her real life began the moment she stepped outside, clutching her coat tighter against the cool evening air. Her heart raced in anticipation.
She knew his schedule now, the rhythm of his days. She had memorized his habits—when he left his office, where his driver usually parked, which restaurants he frequented, even which nights he preferred to vanish into the darker corners of the city. It hadn't been easy, but she had pieced it all together with patience and precision.
Tonight, he would be at the club.Not the kind of club her coworkers whispered about when planning weekends, but one buried deep in the city's veins, where the music pulsed like a heartbeat and shadows drank more secrets than alcohol.
She wasn't going inside. Not yet.
She would watch from the outside, like she always did. Close enough to see him, far enough to stay invisible.
The bus ride across town was agony, each stop dragging out her anticipation until her fingers itched with the need to see him again. When she finally slipped off onto the crowded street, neon lights bleeding into the dark, her pulse quickened. She moved like smoke between people, her eyes fixed on the alley where sleek cars lined up outside the club's hidden entrance.And then—there he was.
Dominic Moretti.
He emerged from the back of a black car, tall and lethal in his tailored suit, his presence slicing through the noise and chaos like a blade through silk. Men moved around him like satellites, orbiting his command, their eyes sharp, scanning.
Elena stayed in the shadows, breath shallow.
She watched him. She always watched him.
The way he adjusted his cufflinks, a small, deliberate motion that spoke of control. The way people parted instinctively as he walked, no one daring to stand in his path. The way his eyes—gray, cold, merciless—swept the crowd like he owned it.A shiver ran through her.She lifted her camera, hidden beneath her coat, and snapped a photo. Another, and another. Each one a stolen treasure.
Her lips curled into a secret smile.One day, he would be hers.Not just an image on her phone, not just a ghost she followed through the streets. She would break the rules, shatter them, and take what she wanted.
She already had a plan.It had started as a fantasy, a half-formed thought she entertained when the loneliness of her apartment pressed too hard against her chest. But lately, it had grown sharper, more vivid. She knew where he went. She knew what he drank. She knew how to slip something into a glass unnoticed.And once he was hers—once she had him—he would never be able to let her go.Her fingers tightened around her camera.She couldn't wait much longer.
As Dominic disappeared into the club, swallowed by shadows and guards, Elena stepped back against the wall, her heart hammering with dangerous glee.
Soon.
She was going to cross the line.
And when she did, Dominic Moretti would belong to her.
Forever.