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Twenty two
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Please, Mr Giordano Twenty Three
“Now this is befitting,” Mr. McWood said, clapping his hands excitedly as I stepped into view. The dress I wore was truly beautiful, perfect for any dinner or date occasion. But deep down, I knew there would be no day I’d find myself going out and feeling like the queen I appeared to be in this dress.“You think so?” I asked, my voice coming out slightly higher-pitched than I intended. I turned away, forcing myself to break from his gaze.Mr. McWood was undeniably attractive, someone I wouldn’t mind having as a best friend. He had that look—the hot best friend look.“I know so,” he replied, still grinning widely as he watched me with enthusiasm.When he walked into the room a moment ago, I couldn’t help but feel a bit shy, especially knowing he had witnessed the disheartening wedding. But he seemed unfazed by it.“Thank you,” I said, glancing around to see if there was a wall clock, but there wasn’t. Mr. McWood noticed my concern and spoke up.“Is there anything else you need? What's
Please, Mr Giordano Twenty Four
AthenaWhen Lucien mentioned that Moore would be working at the hospital, he didn’t actually use the word “wife” to describe her. I couldn't help but sense the mockery in his tone. The thought of her working here made me paranoid. Why would he want her near me? But that paranoia quickly gave way to a flicker of hope when he added that she'd be working as a cleaner. The wife of the richest man in Italy reduced to a common hospital cleaner—now that’s some gossip-worthy material.It's already eleven, and she’s not here yet. Isn’t this supposed to be her first day?I know Lucien harbors deep and raw resentment toward her. She took something precious away from him when she bluntly rejected him a few years ago. That rash decision of hers had pushed Lucien into my arms, just as I had always wanted.I paced restlessly around my office, the sound of my heels echoing off the walls. I don’t want to look bothered, not even slightly, but I can't help it. The thought of humiliating her is tantalizi
Please, Mr Giordano Twenty Five
Moore*“Think about the good aspect of this, Moore. At least you have work to take your mind away from the distress at home.”*Well, who was I kidding? I know pretty well this will be yet another hell having to work here with Athena. She will definitely make my life a living hell.As I followed closely behind her, I could feel her anger rising. She kept clenching and unclenching her fists, each movement betraying her growing frustration. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she had won, and I was glad I managed to keep my composure. I wouldn't have dressed this extravagantly if Lucien’s guard had let me pick something else, but instead, he allowed me to wear the heels I had overlooked earlier while selecting my outfit.After what seemed like an eternity, with her secretary walking right behind me, we turned left towards a door. The door led into a large room filled with men and women I presumed were the hospital’s cleaners. They all wore light blue skirts and white t
Please, Mr Giordano Twenty Six
MooreI stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying to make sense of the skimpy, tight outfit forced upon me. The shirt was so tight that the buttons strained against the fabric, threatening to burst open at any moment. And the skirt—no, it was worse than I could have imagined. It barely covered my thighs, leaving my legs exposed for all to see.Frustration bubbling within me, I stepped out of the closet. As I entered the large space where more than fifty cleaners stood, I felt the weight of their hateful glares. Earlier, a few had offered pitying looks, but now their faces were twisted with disgust. I knew my revealing attire was the reason, and I couldn’t blame them. I looked ridiculous.Athena’s gaze met mine, her eyes gleaming with barely concealed amusement as I tried to tug the skirt down. My blood boiled with anger.“This isn’t something I can wear,” I finally said, my voice tinged with desperation.“What?” Athena replied, feigning innocence. “Didn’t you choose that yourself?
Please, Mr Giordano Twenty seven
Quinn. “This is the Jewel of Giordano’s Telecommunication company Sir. I can assure you that with this, the world will see us as different.”I stared at the holographic projection, the sleek new model of our communication device hovering in mid-air.It was the culmination of months of work, the jewel of Giordano Telecommunications’ upcoming launch. The board members around the table leaned forward, expressions eager as they waited for my approval of the presentation.“Mr Giordano, the integration of the new encryption algorithms with the AI-driven interface is exceptional,” remarked Sergio, one of the senior engineers. His eyes gleamed with the fervour of a man who saw dollar signs in every circuit board. “This is going to revolutionise the market.”I offered a curt nod, acknowledging the compliment but not indulging in it. The truth was, I didn’t care about revolutionising anything. The project was merely a distraction, something to keep my hands busy while my mind stayed as numb a
Please, Mr Giordano Twenty eight
Moore.The moment I heard the door to the locker room click shut behind the last Cleaner, I allowed myself to exhale a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. The day had been a nightmare, and the thought of changing out of these degrading clothes and into something that felt remotely like mine was the only thing keeping me sane. I waited a few minutes more, listening carefully for any lingering footsteps. Satisfied that I was finally alone, I hurried over to my locker.My fingers fumbled with the combination, exhaustion making even the simplest tasks seem insurmountable. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead buzzed, casting a cold, sterile glow over everything. It matched perfectly with how I felt inside—drained, exposed, like an open wound under a relentless, glaring light.When the locker door swung open, I pulled out my neatly folded clothes, the dress from the boutique and quickly began to change. The skimpy dress Athena had forced on me—tight, uncomfortable, a gesture of mockery
Please, Mr Giordano Twenty nine
Moore.The car hadn’t moved far from the office when Athena’s name flashed across Lucien’s phone screen. The sudden ring cut through the tense silence between us, making me jolt in fright. He answered it immediately, his voice colder than ice.“Athena,” he said, not a hint of warmth in his tone. The only thing that gave away the slight change in his mood was the way his hand tightened on the phone, the knuckles going white.I glanced out the window, trying to ignore the gnawing anxiety in my chest. The city passed, but nothing outside could distract me from the storm brewing inside the car. I could feel Lucien’s gaze boring into me, his anger almost tangible. I kept my head down, pulling the hood of the oversized male hoodie further over my head, as if it could shield me from his wrath.On the phone, Athena’s voice was tired, laced with a weariness that I would have found pitiable if it hadn’t been for the fact that I knew her too well. “I just finished surgery,” she said, and I coul
Please, Mr Giordano Thirty
MooreThe wine and food dripped down my face, the red liquid seeping into the fabric of my dress, staining my skin. Athena’s satisfied smirk burned into my memory, each drop a reminder of the disdain she held for me. Every part of me screamed to retaliate, to throw the plate back at her and wipe that smug smile off her face. But I stayed still, fists clenched by my side, nails digging into my palms.If I reacted, my family would be held accountable. I didn’t know the full extent of their relationship, but I knew Lucien wouldn’t tolerate any disrespect from me towards anyone. But she started this, and I won’t just stand by and let her treat me like trash. I’ve had enough of her today to last a lifetime.The room fell silent, everyone watching, waiting for my reaction. I felt their eyes on me—Lucien’s cold and indifferent, the domestic workers’ pitying, and Athena’s triumphant.“That’s enough, Athena,” Lucien finally said, his voice carrying a note of irritation, but not anger. His gaze
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