CHAPTER THREE: PHONE CALL

This was the moment she had been waiting for. The moment she had spent years preparing for. Every careful step, every calculated move, it had all led to this.

Her groundwork for revenge.

Now, it was time to lay the foundation, ensuring it was firm enough to withstand scrutiny, yet undetectable.

Elena remained composed, feigning naivety as she faced forward, refusing to turn. For all she knew, there might be hidden surveillance cameras around. So she had to be extremely careful about whatever she said or did. 

"I don't, sir. At least, not personally," she answered evenly. "You're well-known. People talk about you often, so saying I don't know you at all would be a lie."

 "And what do they say?"

"That you're ruthless. Brilliant. Generous. Unpredictable." A man who ruins lives, she didn't add.

Xavier chuckled almost forced. "Charming adjectives." His fingers grazed the edge of the painting.

"So tell me," he said, slowly and deliberately. He stepped away from the painting he had been admiring, taking controlled steps as he approached her from behind.

Elena tensed.

She wouldn't trust a baby behind her, much less a man this dangerous.

His presence loomed as he leaned in just seconds away from her, his hands still clasped behind his back.

"What's your purpose?"

The words, low and measured, sent a chill up her spine.

Before she could even think up an answer, the door burst open.

"Xav, the press release draft for the gala—"

The woman in the doorway froze mid-sentence. Her brows twitched, her eyes darting surprisingly between them.

Xavier and Elena both turned to see who had interrupted.

She had seen this face before. After a moment, it clicked immediately in Elena's mind. 

Gabriella DeLuca, The Witch of Conflict. 

That was what the media called her, the PR director's face had been splashed across tabloids for months last year after paparazzi caught her leaving Xavier's penthouse at dawn, her hair disheveled, his jacket draped over her shoulders. "MORETTI'S LOVE INTEREST?" the headlines had screamed and it wasn't without reason. 

Elena wasn't sure if she should feel relieved or wary, but one thing was certain, Gabriella's timing had disrupted whatever interrogation session Xavier had planned out for her. She felt almost grateful Gabriella had barged in.

"Oh," Gabriella said with a soft misleading voice, smooth and laced with something hard to place. "I didn't realize you had… company."

"Gabriella," Xavier said, straightening with infuriating calm. "Meet Elena Carter. The new executive assistant."

For a split second, the air in the room shifted.

Gabriella's manicured fingers tightened around her tablet, it didn't seem as though she was trying to hide her disdain. She almost looked as though she might snap the tablet in two.

"How… unexpected," she murmured.

Still pinned at the door holding up her tablet, she continued. "The gala is next Friday. I've finalized media coordination with our press partners, they'll need the embargoed materials by the end of day tomorrow. Seating arrangements have been reviewed through our standard conflict protocols, keeping the Santini Group executives strategically separated from our board members after last year's... incident." 

She swiped on the tab. "The catering contract has been signed they're preparing the menu you approved with appropriate dietary accommodations, all except vegan that is. You were clear about that. Our security team has completed venue sweeps and will conduct another walkthrough the morning of the event."

Scrolling through her tab, she continued, "Social media assets are queued in our content calendar, and the PR team has prepared briefing documents for all executives. Our digital team has pre-loaded forty-seven posts across platforms, timed to your donor demographics. The hashtag #MorettiLegacy is trending in finance circles already. All you have to do is show up and handle your responsibilities properly..."

"And not… this" She gestured vaguely at Xavier and Elena, disgust and anger written all over her face.

With that, she spun on her heels, storming out and slamming the door behind her.

Elena remained still, but inside, her mind was piecing things together. 

First of all, Gabriella's really good at what she does. Elena thought to herself. 

Gabriella DeLuca, Xavier's rumored girlfriend. Or fiancée, depending on which media outlet you asked.

Elena had done her research before applying for this position. She knew Gabriella's name had been linked to Xavier's more than once. Pictures of them together had surfaced online. But now, it was all clear whose doing that had been.

Xavier exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple as though Gabriella's presence had drained him.

"Where was I?" he muttered, almost to himself. He checked the time, his posture still poised yet oddly distracted.

Just then, a vibrating sound filled the air.

Elena instinctively reached for her purse, but it wasn't hers.

Before she could turn, she heard Xavier answer.

"Hello?" His tone had already shifted. More serious, more businesslike. "Yes… Yes. Alright. I'll be on my way."

The conversation lasted only a few seconds before he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

He turned to Elena.

"That'll be all for today," he said, calmly and decisively. "I have other matters to tend to."

A slight pause. Then, in a tone that felt oddly final, he added, "Congratulations."

It wasn't clear whether he meant the job or something else entirely.

Either way, she took the hint. It was her cue to leave.

Xavier watched her as she rose to her feet, adjusted the waist of her blue skirt and exited the office without another word.

The moment she stepped out, she caught sight of the commotion downstairs.

A sense of change was palpable as Xavier got ready to depart. 

People whispered. Stared. Some shifted their posture as if straightening up in his invisible presence.

Elena's lips curled just a little. Such power.

She turned away from the scene, making her way toward Margaret's desk.

But as she rounded the corner of the hallway she wasn't looking when she bumped into Margaret. Startling her.

"Whoa. You okay?"

Elena steadied herself, offering a small nod. "Yeah, sorry about that."

Margaret gave her a curious look. "Meeting over already?"

"Apparently," Elena muttered.

Margaret arched her brow. "Let me guess, Gabriella?"

Elena sighed. "She barged in."

Margaret's laughter was brittle, her eyes darting to the empty hallway. "Watch your back. Gabriella's been angling for that EA role for years. She wanted access to him" she nodded toward Xavier's office, "not just his calendar."

Just then, below them, movement caught their attention.

Xavier was making his exit.

His security detail effortlessly carved a path through the scattered employees lingering near the entrance, their presence alone enough to make people step aside. Parked just beyond the glass doors was the sleek, black Rolls-Royce that was packed outside. 

But Xavier didn't head toward it.

Instead, he veered off, walking toward a different car parked further down.

Elena's eyes narrowed slightly as she observed him. The silver Aston Martin. The one she'd seen earlier, that was His car.

The Rolls-Royce belonged to his driver.

She watched carefully through the glass as he stepped into his car, an Aston Martin DBS. The sleek frame, tinted windows, and customized plate caught her attention. The exact model? She couldn't say. She wasn't into cars.

But she could memorize its appearance.

She'd find out more.

Xavier had a preference for control. Even in something as small as choosing to drive himself instead of using the Rolls-Royce.

But who did the other white Rolls-Royce belong to?

Xavier had left with two cars. He should have been leaving with three.

She turned to Margaret, "Who does the other Rolls-Royce belong to?" Elena asked, her gaze still following the silver car as it eased out of the parking lot and disappeared into the city traffic.

Margaret, arms crossed, let out a short exhale. "It belongs to Mr. Dominic. You're yet to meet him. He's the COO."

That's odd, she thought to herself. 

"Is he around?" Elena asked her brows knitting together.

"He is. But I'll tell you what. The probability of you seeing him anywhere that's not his office is very low." Margaret shrugged. 

Before Elena could ask further questions, a soft chime interrupted them.

Elena instinctively reached for her purse, pulling out her phone.

Unknown Number: Never knew you had it in you to step into enemy territory.

Her grip tightened slightly.

A chill ran down her spine as her brain worked to process the message.

Margaret, noticing the way change in Elena's expression, leaned in slightly. "Something wrong?"

Elena barely had time to respond before her phone buzzed again, this time, it was a call.

Unknown Caller. Hidden ID.

Her pulse quickened.

Margaret raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing the tension in her posture and the bead of sweat forming on her forehead despite the cool tempo.

Elena hesitated for a brief second before pressing the answer button, slowly bringing the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

A brief silence. Then—

"Still as sharp as ever, aren't you?" The voice said. Low, moderate and assertive. Her heart nearly stopped.

She knew that voice.

"Victor," she whispered, barely able to believe it.

A chuckle on the other end. "Miss me?"

She inhaled sharply, mind racing. Of all people, she hadn't expected to hear him. Not now at least. 

"What do you want, how did you get this number?"

A low hum. "Do you really have to ask?"

She knew better. Victor had his ways. He always had.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Elena." His voice carried that same smooth arrogance, the one that always made her feel like she was two steps behind, even when she wasn't. "Tread carefully. I'd hate to see you become collateral damage."

A warning... or a veiled threat.

Before she could respond, the line went static... and then dead. She exhaled slowly, lowering the phone.

Margaret's eyes were on her, concern eating at her. "Who was that?" Elena forced a tight smile. "No one important."

Margaret didn't look convinced, but she didn't press.

Clearing her throat, Elena adjusted her bag. "I should get going. I have somewhere to be." Margaret didn't look convinced, but she didn't press.

Clearing her throat, Elena adjusted her bag. "I should get going. I have somewhere to be."

Margaret studied her for a moment before nodding. "Dinner plans?"

"Something like that." With a small, distracted wave, Elena turned on her heels and walked away.

She wasn't just going for dinner. She had to meet someone. 

Patrick Machiose.

Elena stared at her phone, the glowing screen illuminating her face. 8:45 PM. She was dressed to kill. The sleek black dress clung to her slender frame, the neckline dipping just low enough to attract any man who stared for too long.

Her heels were something to note, long, black, sharp and pointed. She had been ready since 7:30 PM, pacing restlessly in her dimly lit apartment. As she was pacing, she contemplated arming herself with the little piece of dagger she had bought a while back. Just incase anything were to go south. But then she remembered, the Machiose are all cynical. If Patrick were to order a quick search and they found out she had a weapon, he might lose his trust for her or maybe even worse...

Patrick Machiose was a man who operated on his own time, and she knew better than to rush him. Still, the waiting made her even more uneasy than she would be in his presence. 

He's testing me, she thought, running a hand through her hair. Seeing how desperate I am.

She exhaled sharply and sank onto the edge of her bed, the silk sheets cool beneath her. She didn't dare take off her shoes, not yet. Not when the call could come at any second.

Then, it did.

The phone vibrated against the nightstand, a harsh, insistent buzz. The screen flashed with a number she didn't recognize. There was no name, no location, just a string of digits.

Elena's pulse spiked. She reached for it letting it ring just a moment longer and then she answered. 

"Hello," she purred, her voice soft intended to charm her way through.

"Where are you, Cara mia?"