Chapter 114
Roo pov
My eyes drifted involuntarily to the doorway again. It had been almost an hour.
Where the hell was Katya?
I clenched my jaw. She’d better not be slacking off. Or spilling the coffee. Or running her mouth. Or.... getting herself in trouble.
I pushed that thought away imdiately.
She’s probably in the kitchen complaining about .
Still... it shouldn’t take this long.
I tapped the desk twice, agitation rising again, rubbing at my temple, annoyed at my own impatience.
Where is she?
Antonio walked out of my office, leaving back to the silence. The mont the door clicked shut, the irritation in my chest sharpened again.
Almost an hour.
For coffee.
She better not be—
I exhaled sharply and reached to my right, pulling open the drawer that held my smaller tablet.
A swipe of my thumb unlocked the security feed. Every hallway, every stairwell, every damn floor—this house had eyes everywhere.
I flipped through the caras quickly, scanning for that ridiculous bun she ties her hair in every morning.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Then I stopped.
There she was.
Third-floor kitchen feed. Cara 3B.
Katya.
Sitting at the counter. Eating.
Eating.
My eyebrows twitched.
The audacity.
She had her back turned slightly, shoulders relaxed in a way she never shows when she’s around .
One foot swinging under the stool like so unbothered toddler. She shoved bread into her mouth like she hadn’t eaten in weeks.
And with her is Stella. Talking to her with that gentle motherly expression she reserves for everyone except .
Which I don’t bla her for.
Katya laughed at sothing being said—actually laughed—and I felt sothing unpleasant twist in my stomach.
What. The. Hell.
She was supposed to be bringing coffee.
Not having a full three-course al and gossip session.
I zood in slightly, watching her quickly shove the last piece of bread before quickly standing, grabbing a mug and pouring coffee like she knew I was watching her.
Stella was now with an annoyed face while Katya practically ran out of the kitchen with my coffee.
I shut the tablet, letting it drop onto the desk with a dull thud and pushed it away like it had personally offended .
Unbelievable.
She couldn’t even make coffee without getting on my nerves.
With an irritated exhale, I dragged the docunt I had been working on, flipping through the pages without really seeing any of the words.
My brain kept replaying the image of her swinging her foot under the stool like she didn’t have a whole boss waiting upstairs.
Ridiculous brat. I forced my attention back to the folder.
Strategic agreents. Supply routes. Negotiation points.
None of it stuck.
My fingertips drumd on the desk in uneven rhythms. The room felt too damn quiet again. Too empty.
Her footsteps always filled the space, even when I didn’t want them to. I shook my head sharply. "Focus," I muttered.
Two minutes.
Five minutes.
Seven.
Then a knock.
Short. Polite but before I could even say enter, the door pushed open anyway.
Mr. Valerio stepped inside first, dressed in a pristine charcoal suit, posture as stiff as the century he crawled out of.
His bald head shone under the office lights, and his eyes imdiately swept the room with a sharpness that reminded why n still feared him, despite his age.
And beside him was his daughter.
Marina Valerio.
She stepped in gracefully, chin slightly raised, long dark hair cascading over one shoulder in a way that was definitely practiced, not accidental.
She had the kind of beauty that was engineered—expensive, polished, calculated. A dress that hugged her in all the places ant to catch attention.
Perfect makeup. Perfect posture. Perfect smile.
Objectively?
She was stunning but my eyes barely stayed on her for a full second because right behind them....
Katya.
Standing there, holding the coffee tray with both hands like it weighed more than her whole body.
A strand of hair stuck to her cheek from rushing, her breathing was uneven and her expression was a mix of embarrassnt and annoyance.
Her eyes t mine for a brief mont, wide and alert like she’d been caught between two wolves.
And for reasons I absolutely refused to explore, sothing inside loosened. A breath I didn’t know I’d been holding eased out of .
Marina glided a little bit ahead of her father. "Mr Salvatore... it’s a pleasure." I didn’t answer.
I was still looking past them at the small figure trying to stand tall behind the Valerios, pretending she wasn’t late, wasn’t stressed, wasn’t two seconds away from tripping over her own shoes.
Katya straightened her shoulders the mont she noticed where my focus was, lifting the tray slightly as if to remind herself she was here to work—not... whatever this situation was.
I dragged my gaze away from her and finally looked at Mr. Valerio.
"You’re early," I said flatly.
The old man smiled, all charm and false warmth. "I thought you would appreciate efficiency."
Katya kept shifting awkwardly in the doorway, clearly feeling out of place between a billionaire’s daughter and her father.
"My coffee" I called out and Katya practically scurried forward, the tray rattling once before she steadied her grip.
She reached my desk and set the mug down with both hands, carefully—far too carefully, like she knew I was watching her every move.
Mr. Valerio and his daughter remained behind her, observing the scene with veiled curiosity.
Marina’s gaze lingered on a mont too long, and then flicked to Katya with faint confusion clearly unaccustod to being ignored in favor of a girl holding coffee.
Katya stepped back imdiately once the mug was placed, clasping her hands in front of her as though she wanted nothing more than to disappear into the floor.
Her breathing was still uneven. I lifted the mug without breaking eye contact with her, testing the coffee. "Take a seat," I finally said to my guest, gesturing toward the chairs across from my desk.
Mr. Valerio nodded politely and guided his daughter forward. Marina moved like she was gliding across a ballroom, not walking into a business eting.
Her heels barely made a sound on the marble as she lowered herself into the left chair. Her father took the one beside her, posture straight, assessing.
Katya remained standing off to the side, awkward and stiff, eyes darting between the two guests like she wasn’t sure if she should bow or salute.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then cleared her throat. "Um... do you need anything else, sir?" She asked it quietly, like she was trying not to interrupt anyone breathing.
This was the first ti she openly showed she was nervous since this week. What happened?
I lifted the mug back to my lips, again. The coffee was hot. Strong. Perfect. Of course it was. she always made it right, even if she took a lifeti bringing it.
I didn’t look at her right away, letting her soak in the uncertainty for one more heartbeat. "No." I finally said.
Her shoulders dropped just slightly like she’d been bracing for another task. "You may leave," I added with a clipped tone. "And send Antonio to ."
Katya nodded quickly. "Yes, sir." She backed away a step too fast, nearly bumping into Marina, who blinked at her like she couldn’t comprehend how soone that small and frantic existed in the sa room as her.
Katya flushed before steadying herself, mumbling an apology, and escaping through the door before she could make it worse.
The click of the door closing felt unnecessarily loud.
I set my mug down and finally leveled my gaze at the man across from . He folded his hands neatly over his knee, an amused glint flickering in his eyes—as if he’d just witnessed sothing interesting.
Marina crossed her legs gracefully, still wearing that polished smile.
I ignored both expressions with an annoyed scoff. "Let’s get to the point. Why are you here a day early?" I said.
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Y’all please comnt, because I’m feeling down
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