Chapter 5

• Luciana's POV:
• I hesitated, hovering near the exit as I watched the woman with the cart. She stopped to chat with another uniformed employee, the two of them sharing a laugh over something I couldn’t quite hear. The cart stood there, unattended, just a few feet away.
• My palms were sweaty as I clutched my folder tighter. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure someone would hear it. This is insane, Luciana, I told myself. Absolutely insane. But then I glanced back at the receptionist desk. She was too busy giggling with the man she was now helping to notice me anymore.
• Do it. Just do it.
• With a deep breath, I darted forward, crouching low. My knees wobbled as I lifted the edge of the white cloth and slid underneath the cart. It was cramped, the smell of roast chicken and some kind of herby sauce invading my nose. I tucked my legs in tight, clutching my folder to my chest, praying no one would see me.
• Seconds later, the cart jolted forward. My heart jumped as the wheels began to squeak, the motion nearly knocking me off balance. The woman pushed it steadily, her footsteps echoing in the vast lobby.
• Then came her muttering. “Why’s this cart feeling so heavy all of a sudden?”
• My breath caught in my throat. Oh God. Please don’t check. Please don’t check.
• The cart jolted again, and I nearly bumped my head against the metal underside. My breathing was shallow as I heard the distinct ding of an elevator button being pressed. The woman pushed the cart inside, and I felt the subtle hum as the elevator began its climb.
• I clutched my folder tighter, trying to stay as quiet as possible, but every tiny creak of the cart made my heart race. The faint muzak playing in the elevator wasn't doing much to calm me down either.
• When the elevator finally stopped, the woman resumed pushing, the wheels squeaking softly as we moved. I had no idea where we were going. The carpeted floor muffled her footsteps now, and I could hear the faint hum of voices in the distance- maybe other employees working in the building.
• Then she stopped. A knock on the door echoed around me, and I froze, my breath hitching.
• The door opened with a soft creak, and the woman's voice instantly brightened. "Good afternoon, Mr. West! I brought the usual, fresh and hot, just the way you like it."
• My stomach flipped. Wait... Mr. West? The CEO?
• A man's voice replied, smooth and deep, with just a hint of amusement. "Thank you, Martha. You're always so reliable."
• The sound of his voice sent a shiver down my spine. It was... distracting, to say the least. But before I could focus too much on it, I suddenly heard something else.
• A rustle. Then a soft, unmistakable gasp.
• "Mr. West," the woman said, her tone shifting, playful now.
• And then... kissing. Wet, loud kissing.
• I stiffened, my eyes going wide as the kisses turned into something more-a soft moan breaking through the air. My jaw dropped. Oh no, no, no. This can't be happening.
• The cart wobbled slightly as the noises grew more heated. I squeezed my eyes shut, silently begging for the floor to swallow me whole.
• The kissing noises grew louder, and I wanted to sink further into the floor, burying myself beneath the cart forever. My palms were clammy, and I clenched my folder tightly to stop it from trembling.
• Then I heard her voice again—Martha, the woman who had been pushing the cart. “Mr. West…” she purred, her tone dripping with playful seduction.
• But then she hesitated. “I just need to tell you, um... I’m on my period.”
• Silence. For one agonizing moment, there was nothing but the sound of my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
• Then his voice sliced through the air like a whip. “You’re what?”
• I flinched under the cart. His tone was a dangerous combination of disbelief and fury.
• “You’ve got to be kidding me, Martha,” he snarled, his deep voice laced with venom. “Why the hell didn’t you mention this before wasting my time? Do you think I have nothing better to do than deal with your incompetence?”
• Martha stammered, her voice suddenly unsure. “I—I thought it wouldn’t be a problem, Mr. West. I just wanted to see—”
• “You thought?” he cut her off, his words dripping with disdain. “What I need is competence, not someone who wastes my time with ridiculous excuses. Unbelievable.”
• His anger filled the room, each sharp word landing like a blow. I could practically feel the tension radiating above me, and my lungs felt tight, as if I couldn’t take a full breath.
• Just as I thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, it did.
• The silence after Mr. West’s outburst was heavy, like a loaded gun waiting to fire. And then—ring! ring! ring!
• My heart stopped.
• No. Oh, no. Not now. Please, not now.
• The sound of my phone blaring filled the room, echoing off the walls like a siren announcing my impending doom. I scrambled under the cart, desperately reaching for my bag. My hands were shaking so badly that it took me three tries to find the zipper.
• But in my panic, as I tugged the phone out, it slipped from my fingers, landing with a loud clunk on the floor.
• Not under the cart.
• Outside the cart.
• The ringing continued, shrill and piercing, as if mocking me.
• “What the hell?” Mr. West’s voice was low, cold, and terrifyingly calm. It sliced through the room like a blade, and I froze, every muscle in my body going rigid.
• Then he said it: "Who is that?"
• His tone was even deeper now, sharp with suspicion and authority, and it made my blood run cold.
• I didn’t dare move. I didn’t dare breathe. My entire body was trembling, my forehead damp with sweat as I tried to will myself into invisibility. But it was useless.
• The sound of footsteps approached, heavy and deliberate, each one sending a jolt of fear straight through me. My pulse roared in my ears as the cart shifted slightly, and I realized, with bone-deep dread, that he was coming closer.