Epiphany

Sofia's POV

Monday came too fast, dragging all my nerves along with it. Panic twisted in my gut as I stood in front of the Rossi Group headquarters. Bri, ever the doting best friend, had come to drop me off, but her "pep talk" wasn't doing much to calm me.

“For the hundredth time, Sofi, he doesn’t like people smiling at him. So don’t. At no cost. ¿Si, señorita?”

“Got it, Bri,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “No smiling.”

Still, my jaw dropped a little as I stared up at the building. It was enormous—like the kind of place people whispered about as if it were a temple for the rich and powerful. The sleek glass windows sparkled in the morning sun, each of its hundred or so floors screaming, “You don’t belong here.”

“You sure you don’t want to turn around and take me home?” I asked Bri, half-joking.

She snorted. “Not a chance, hermanita. You’ll be fine. No smiling, remember!”

I sighed, squared my shoulders, and walked in.

The lobby was no less intimidating than the outside—black and gold everywhere, marble floors so polished I could see my reflection, and an air of silence that made me feel like I should tiptoe. I approached the receptionist, a sharp-looking woman who didn’t even glance up as I started speaking.

“Hi, I’m Sofia Flores, and I’m supposed to—”

“100th floor, by the right,” she cut in without missing a beat.

“Oh, um, thanks—”

“And,” she added, her tone still clipped, “he said to clean your makeup off before you see him. If you have any on.”

I froze, my face heating with embarrassment. I wasn’t even wearing makeup! What kind of a message was this Leandro Rossi trying to send? And did the receptionist think I needed to hear it?

“Okay,” I muttered, walking away before I said something I’d regret.

As I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the 100th floor, I muttered under my breath, “No makeup. No smiling. What’s next? No breathing?”

When the elevator doors opened, I stepped out and tried to remember Bri’s advice. Breathe in. Breathe out. Don’t punch anyone.

I walked to the massive office door and knocked lightly.

“Come in,” came a deep, sharp voice from inside.

I swallowed hard and pushed the door open.

There he was. Leandro Rossi.

He sat behind a desk that looked more expensive than my entire apartment, his piercing blue eyes locking onto me like I was some sort of intruder. As he studied me, his gaze swept from my head to my toes, lingering in a way that made me want to check my reflection. Was my outfit bad? No way. Bri had made sure I looked perfect.

Yesterday, she'd dragged me to every store in the mall, insisting we buy enough corporate clothes to fill an entire wardrobe. “He has exquisite taste,” she'd said, dumping more and more clothes into my arms. “You need to look good. No, better than good—flawless.”

And I did look good—an elegant turquoise blue dress, new heels, the whole nine yards. So why was he looking at me like I’d rolled out of bed?

“They don’t knock in my office,” he said abruptly, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

His expression didn’t change. “The receptionist informed me you were coming up. All you had to do was open the door and come in quietly. There’s no need to announce yourself like some amateur.”

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. Amateur? Really?

Forcing myself to keep calm, I plastered on a polite smile. “I’m sorry about that.”

His eyes narrowed. Damn it. I’d smiled.

He leaned back in his chair, studying me like he was deciding whether I was worth his time. “I see you don’t have any office experience. That’s to be expected, I suppose.”

My fists clenched at my sides, but I kept my expression neutral. Inside, though, I was fuming. This spoiled, arrogant man had already decided I wasn’t good enough. It took everything I had not to tell him where he could shove his assumptions.

Instead, I stood there, my smile frozen in place, silently cursing him and the stupid “no smiling” rule.

His gaze hardened, his jaw ticking as he leaned forward slightly. "Did you even look this place up before coming here?" he asked, his tone sharp enough to slice through the tension in the room.

I blinked, caught off guard. "I—"

"My rules are everywhere. On the website, in the employee handbook—hell, even the receptionist could’ve told you. If you'd made any effort at all, you’d have known them. Or did you just sit around waiting for Monday to come, jump into a dress, and decide to wing it?"

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but the words wouldn’t come. What the hell was happening?

“You’ve smiled twice now,” he continued, his voice rising just enough to hammer the point home. “I ignored it the first time, thinking you’d show some courtesy and hide the damn smile. There’s nothing amusing here. And yet, here you are, doing it again.”

My cheeks burned as I tried to explain. "I didn’t mean—"

“Save it,” he snapped, cutting me off. “I don’t need excuses. What I need is competence. We have a meeting at eight, less than twenty minutes from now. Your office is right outside this one,” he added, gesturing toward the door behind me.

My brows furrowed in confusion. My office?

“You’ll go there, sit down, and familiarize yourself with the information I’m about to give you,” he said, grabbing a sleek folder from his desk and sliding it across to me. “We’re meeting with the head of Florencio Corporations, and you need to know why we’re going there. Do your research. I won’t have you sitting in that room looking dumb because you don’t know what’s going on.”

My pulse quickened as I took the folder, his words still ringing in my ears. Looking dumb? I wanted to say something—anything—but he didn’t give me the chance.

“You have ten minutes. Don’t waste them.”

I clenched the folder tightly, biting back every retort I wanted to throw at him. Instead, I nodded stiffly and walked out of his office, my heart racing as I headed to the small office space he’d indicated.

Ten minutes. Research. Don’t look dumb.