The morning after the gala, Rihanna woke up with a dull ache behind her eyes.
For a moment, she forgot where she was — the soft golden curtains, the polished marble floor, the faint hum of Milan outside the window.
And then it all rushed back.
The glittering chandeliers. Bianca's unsettling grace. Lorenzo's voice in her ear.
"You."
She rolled over, burying her face into the pillow."It's nothing," she told herself. "He's just a senior. Just charismatic. That's all."
But no matter how many times she repeated it, the memory clung to her skin.
[At Work — Aurelio International Headquarters]
When she walked into the main floor, she noticed it immediately.
The smiles were tighter.The greetings more formal.Some employees barely looked at her.
Mirella approached her desk, setting down a folder with unusual care.
"You should focus on your work, Ms. Thompson," she said softly, almost without moving her lips.
Rihanna frowned. "I always do."
Mirella's gaze flickered to the surrounding cubicles. "Just… keep your head down. People notice things here."
Before Rihanna could ask more, Mirella was gone.
The morning passed in a blur of tasks and meetings.
At noon, a sharp ping came from her computer.
Meeting Request: Conference Room DAttendees: Bianca Russo, Lorenzo Moretti, Rihanna ThompsonSubject: Division Strategy Overview
Her heart thudded faster.It wasn't unusual to have senior executives sit in… but both at once?
She grabbed her notes and hurried toward the elevators.
[Conference Room D]
Bianca was already there, perched elegantly at the head of the table, one ankle crossed over the other.Lorenzo leaned casually against the glass wall, flipping through a set of reports.
"Ms. Thompson," Bianca greeted without looking up. "Have a seat."
Rihanna sat down, smoothing her skirt nervously.
Lorenzo's gaze lifted, meeting hers briefly — just long enough to make her heart skip.
The meeting began.
Or rather — Bianca began.
Her voice was smooth, deliberate, walking Rihanna through a series of future projects.Except… it wasn't a simple presentation.
Bianca asked strange questions.Personal ones.
"How do you handle pressure, Ms. Thompson?""Do you believe loyalty can be taught or is it innate?""Would you sacrifice personal ethics for corporate success?"
Each question was delivered lightly, almost teasingly. But Rihanna could feel the weight behind them.
She answered carefully. Politely. The way she'd been taught.
But with each response, Bianca's smile grew a little sharper.
Like a cat toying with a bird.
Lorenzo said very little.He watched. Listened. Occasionally smirked when Bianca leaned in too close or phrased something particularly cutting.
By the end of the session, Rihanna's hands were trembling slightly under the table.
Bianca rose first.
"You're promising," she said, gathering her folder. "But promises are cheap."
She brushed past Rihanna without waiting for a reply.
Lorenzo lingered.
He sauntered around the table, stopping beside Rihanna's chair.
"You didn't do too badly," he said lowly."But next time… don't show fear."
Her mouth went dry.
"How did you—"
He smiled lazily. "You smell like it."
And then he was gone.
Leaving her alone in the glass room with her rattling heart.
[Evening — Rihanna's Apartment]
She sank into the couch, kicking off her heels.
She wanted to relax. To forget.
But when she opened her notebook to review her notes, something slipped out.
A small, folded piece of paper.
There was no name. No signature.
Only six words, scrawled in rushed handwriting:
Be careful who you trust.
Rihanna's blood ran cold.
Her eyes darted around the empty apartment.The windows were locked. The door bolted.And yet — someone had gotten close enough to slip a note into her things.
She clutched the paper tightly.
For the first time since arriving in Italy, a whisper of true fear curled in her chest.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
And she was only just beginning to see it.