The Ceo Who Loves me, The Mafioso Who Owns Me

The sound of Isabella Monteiro's hurried heels echoed through the marble lobby.

She adjusted her simple blouse, which was no longer so new, and clutched the folder containing her resume even tighter to her chest. Her heart hammered as if it might explode.

Getting that job was more than a necessity—it was a matter of survival.

Bills were piling up on the desk in the small studio apartment where she lived. The rent was overdue, the refrigerator nearly empty. If she failed again, she didn't know what she would do.

She took a deep breath.

It's now or never.

The Carter Enterprises building seemed like another world. Mirrored glass walls reflected the cloudy city sky. Elegantly dressed men and women milled about as if running to their own rhythm, carrying briefcases and tablets, speaking in languages ​​Isabella barely understood—English, French, technical terms from the corporate world.

She felt like an outsider, as if she'd invaded territory that didn't belong to her.

But she couldn't back down.

He followed the signs to the interview floor. As soon as the elevator doors opened, he found a crowded waiting room. More than twenty candidates, all lined up in expensive suits and sophisticated dresses, spoke to each other with practiced confidence.

Isabella swallowed hard.

The navy blue skirt she'd bought on sale and the slightly yellowed white shirt didn't compare to the luxury she saw around her.

She took a deep breath, repeating to herself like a mantra:

"It's not about the clothes... it's about the ability."

He sat in a corner and watched. A man was reviewing a folder full of certificates. A young woman shamelessly showed off her designer watch, laughing loudly as if she already knew she had the job.

What am I doing here? Isabella thought. — I'm just a girl who worked in cafes and as a receptionist at a cheap hotel. I don't belong in that world.

But the need was greater than the doubt.

Time passed slowly. One by one, the candidates were called. Some left with their heads down; others maintained their composure, even in the face of rejection.

When her name was finally called, Isabella felt her legs tremble. She clutched her briefcase to her chest and walked in.

The interviewer, a middle-aged man with thin glasses, didn't even look up as he greeted her.

“Isabella Monteiro…” he said, quickly leafing through her resume. “Hm. Receptionist, attendant, assistant… no corporate experience, I see.”

The judgmental tone pierced Isabella like a needle.

She took a deep breath, trying to remain calm.

"That's true, sir. But in every job I've had, I've learned quickly. I've always been praised for my dedication and my way of dealing with people."

He raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"The position you're seeking requires much more than friendliness. Do you know how to handle pressure?"

A lump formed in her throat.

Of course I don't know... but I need to.

"Yes, sir. I'm ready for any challenge."

Before she could continue, a sharp sound echoed: the office door suddenly opened.

Everyone's eyes turned to the figure entering.

He was tall, imposing, wearing a perfectly tailored black suit. His dark hair was slicked back, revealing strong, impeccable features. But what caught the most attention were his eyes—intense blue, like ice in the winter light.

Every step he took seemed to dictate the rhythm of the room.

"Mr. Carter!" The interviewer stood up, visibly nervous. "We weren't expecting you here…"

Alexander Carter.

The name that graced newspapers, business magazine covers, and company bulletin boards.

The man who had built Carter Enterprises into an empire.

He ignored the interviewer. His gaze immediately fixed on Isabella.

"Who is she?" he asked, his deep voice filling every corner of the room. There was no rudeness, but an authority that refused to be ignored.

Isabella felt a chill. It was as if she were standing before a predator studying her silently.

"T-that…" the interviewer stammered. "It's candidate Isabella Monteiro."

Alexander's gaze swept over her from head to toe. There was no lewdness, but an intense, almost clinical analysis, as if he could decipher her soul in seconds.

"Isabella Monteiro…" He repeated the name slowly, as if testing it in his mouth.

She gathered her remaining courage and lifted her chin.

"Yes, sir. It's me."

The silence lasted a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity.

Then Alexander gave a slight nod.

"Take her to the conference room. I want to talk to you about the position in person."

The interviewer's mouth fell open in shock, but he didn't dare argue.

"Y-yes, of course, sir."

Isabella blinked, confused.

He… chose me? Just like that?

As she left the room, she noticed the envious looks on her face from the other candidates. Some murmured among themselves in disbelief.

Isabella walked down the hallway beside the man who had decided her fate in a matter of seconds. She felt torn between fear and a strange excitement.

There was something about him that attracted her, but also terrified her.

When she entered the meeting room, she realized she was alone with him. The silence became oppressive.

Alexander stopped in front of the large glass window that overlooked the entire city. Without turning his head, he said:

"You don't look like the other candidates."

Isabella licked her lips.

"I hope that's not a problem."

He finally looked at her. A faint smile curved his lips.

"It could be quite the opposite."

She didn't know if that was a compliment or a warning.

Isabella's heart was beating too fast. Everything in her screamed that this meeting would change her life, for better or worse.

And, outside that luxurious building, someone was watching.

A man with dark eyes, leaning against a motorcycle, puffing on a cigarette as if he had all the time in the world.

His name was still unknown to Isabella.

But soon she would meet him.

Dante Navarro.

And he was destined to complicate every step of the path she dared to take.

At that moment, Isabella Monteiro had no idea she was about to become the center of a dispute that could either save her... or destroy her.