Milan smelled like cold morning air, roasted coffee, and quiet ambition.
Élise Moreau clutched her handbag a little tighter as she stood in front of the towering glass building of Moretti Enterprises. The company logo a silver M shaped like a crown glimmered above the entrance.
Her heart thumped.
First day. New city. New job. Don't embarrass yourself.
She inhaled softly, smoothing her blouse, then stepped inside.
The lobby was breathtaking marble floors, high ceilings, gold accents, and employees dressed sharply in black and beige. Everyone moved with purpose, their footsteps soft but confident against the polished floor.
Élise felt small.
But she lifted her chin. Paris had raised her with elegance, even in fear.
"Name?" the receptionist asked.
"Élise Moreau. Administrative intern," she replied, her French accent wrapping gently around each word.
The receptionist looked up with surprise maybe at the accent, maybe at her quiet confidence then smiled. "You're assigned to the 34th floor."
Élise thanked her and stepped into the elevator, trying to steady her breath. Each floor dinged like a countdown.
31… 32… 33… 34.
The doors opened.
Silence greeted her.
This floor felt colder than the lobby quiet hallways, minimalistic décor, everything organized with military precision.
Someone whispered behind her.
"The interns are here already?"
"She's early."
"She's the French one."
Élise pretended not to hear. She walked to the meeting room where orientation was supposed to happen.
Inside, several employees sat around a long polished table, murmuring softly. At the head of the table sat a man with silver-framed glasses and a calm expression the HR director.
He stood when she entered. "You must be Miss Moreau. Welcome."
She bowed her head politely. "Merci."
Orientation began rules, departments, expectations. Élise listened carefully, taking notes, avoiding unnecessary attention.
Then the atmosphere suddenly shifted.
The door opened.
Everyone stood.
Adriano Moretti had entered the room.
Tall. Dark-haired. Impossibly composed.
He wore a perfectly tailored black suit that contrasted against his pale, unreadable expression. His presence alone seemed to lower the temperature in the room.
Élise had never seen someone carry silence like a weapon.
He moved to the front, jaw tight, eyes cold.
"Good morning," he said.
Even his voice was sharp deep, steady, emotionless.
He began reviewing reports, and within two minutes
SLAM.
He dropped a folder on the table.
"This," he said, eyes narrowing at one of the managers, "is unacceptable. Wrong sequence. Wrong numbers. Fix it or clear your desk."
The manager swallowed hard.
Élise froze. So the rumors were true.
The CEO of Milan did not tolerate mistakes.
The room stayed quiet as he continued speaking, his tone cold enough to slice through stone.
Then it happened.
The HR director gestured to Élise with a stack of documents.
"Miss Moreau, pass these to the CEO."
Her heart skipped.
She rose slowly, aware of every gaze on her.
She walked toward Adriano Moretti, heels soft against the floor, her breath barely moving.
But when she reached him, her fingers trembled just slightly only slightly as she handed him the documents.
And that was enough.
The papers slipped.
A few sheets scattered across the polished floor.
Silence.
Total silence.
Élise felt her chest tighten.
She bent down immediately, collecting the pages with shaking hands.
In her mind, she saw her future disappearing fired on her first day, tossed out like the other unlucky ones.
When she stood back up, she whispered, "Mi… mi dispiace… I'm sorry."
Adriano Moretti looked at her.
He really looked.
For a long moment, the Ice CEO studied the soft French girl standing stiffly before him the flushed cheeks, the lowered lashes, the quiet fear she tried to hide.
His expression changed.
Barely.
Subtly.
But it changed.
He took the documents from her hands carefully almost gently.
Then he said, in a calm, low voice the entire company had never heard from him:
"Va bene… it's fine. Fix it, mademoiselle."
Mademoiselle.
Élise looked up, startled.
The employees stared with wide eyes.
The HR director almost choked.
Someone whispered, "Did he just"The meeting dragged on, but Élise barely heard a word after her small disaster. Her heart was still thumping from how close she had stood to him.
Why did he speak so softly? Why her?
She tried to blend into her seat, praying no one was still staring. But every time she shifted her eyes, she caught someone glancing at her with confusion, jealousy, or curiosity.
By the time the meeting ended, Élise wanted to disappear into the floor.
People rose, gathering their documents. Élise remained seated, pretending to organize her notes so she wouldn't bump into anyone.
But as the footsteps thinned and voices faded, she realized someone else hadn't left yet.
Her breath caught.
Adriano Moretti was still in the room.
Alone.
Standing near the large glass window, flipping through the papers she had handed him. The morning light hit him at an angle that sharpened his already sculpted features high cheekbones, a strong jaw, eyes that looked like they had never known softness.
Élise froze.
She didn't expect him to still be here.
She quickly looked down, pretending to zip her bag.
Too late.
He spoke.
"You're the intern from Paris."
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried across the room with precision.
Élise turned slowly. "Y-yes, sir."
He glanced at her not cold, but unreadable. "Moreau, yes?"
"Oui. Yes." She swallowed. "Élise Moreau."
"Élise."
He repeated her name like he was testing the sound of it.
Not harsh. Not soft. Just… controlled.
Her heartbeat stumbled.
He closed the folder, tapping it lightly against his palm. "Your handwriting is neat. Not common among interns."
Élise blinked. Of all things… that?
"Grazie," she whispered.
His eyes narrowed slightly not in disapproval, but something like mild surprise. "You speak Italian?"
"Only a little. I'm still learning."
He nodded once, a gesture so small most people would have missed it.
But Élise saw it.
"It will be necessary," he said. "If you intend to stay in this company."
The firmness in his tone made her straighten.
"I will improve, sir."
Adriano's gaze held hers for exactly one heartbeat. Then two.
ThenOne intern near the doorway muttered, "Why did he talk to her like that?"
Another whispered, "He's never that calm. Ever."
A third hissed, "She's lucky. If it was me, I'd be jobless."
Élise felt the heat rising in her cheeks. She hurried out of the room, praying the ground outside would swallow her whole.
The entire floor felt different now.
People stared longer than they should.
They lowered their voices when she walked by.
Some offered polite half-smiles the type that hides judgment.
But as she approached her assigned desk in the administrative area, she saw someone waiting for her.
A young Italian woman with sleek brown hair and sharp eyeliner. She wore a beige blouse and a fitted skirt, and she looked like she belonged in a fashion magazine.
She crossed her arms.
"You're the French intern?" she asked smoothly.
"Oui." Élise gave a small smile. "I'm Élise."
The woman didn't smile back.
She looked Élise from head to toe —not with admiration, but with a kind of calculating curiosity.
"I'm Giulia Romano," she said at last. "Executive assistant to Mr. Moretti."
Élise's stomach tightened. The CEO's assistant? Oh no.
Giulia leaned closer, lowering her voice.
"Word travels fast here," she said. "And people are already talking about this morning."
Élise swallowed. "I didn't mean— I wasn't trying to—"
Giulia raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
"You don't have to explain to me."
She paused. "Just… be careful. This company isn't kind to outsiders."
Outsiders.
The word stung more than Élise expected.
Before she could ask what that meant, Giulia added:
"And whatever happened with Mr. Moretti? Don't let it get to your head. He's not… gentle. With anyone."
Élise frowned. "…But he was calm with me."
Giulia's eyes sharpened, as if Élise had accidentally said something forbidden.
"Yes," she said slowly.
"That's exactly why people will start watching you."
---
Élise sat at her desk with a shaken breath.
New country.
New job.
New expectations.
And somehow, on her very first day, she had drawn the attention of the one man every employee feared…
The man who never smiled.
The man who never softened.
The man who didn't tolerate mistakes.
Adriano Moretti.
Élise pressed her hands to her cheeks, trying to cool the heat there.
Why did he treat me differently?
She didn't know then that the answer was already forming quietly, dangerously, in the CEO's mind…
And she had no idea that her first mistake in Milan would not be her last.
"Good."
He walked past her, his steps silent and confident.
But right as his hand touched the door, he paused.
Without turning, he said:
"And Miss Moreau… don't rush to pick up fallen papers next time. People make mistakes. Keep your posture."
Her breath left her body all at once.
He noticed that?
And he cared enough to say something?
Before she could reply, he opened the door and disappeared down the hallway, leaving the scent of crisp cologne and the echo of his warning behind him.
did he just say it's fine?"
Élise stood frozen, breathing unevenly.
Adriano Moretti held her gaze one more second… then looked away and resumed the meeting as if nothing unusual had just happened.
But everyone in that room knew:
The CEO of Milan never smiled.
But today… he didn't freeze the French girl.
And that was how the rumors began.