The orientation was a blur of polished voices and rehearsed smiles. Rihanna sat among a dozen other new hires in a sleek white conference room, every detail around her too pristine, too orchestrated—like a showroom rather than a workplace.
Bianca Russo stood at the front, speaking effortlessly about Aurelio International's values, international influence, and commitment to "growth, excellence, and discretion." Her words floated like silk—but every syllable carried something Rihanna couldn't place.
Something... rehearsed.
Her eyes met Bianca's once during the talk, and for a second, the woman's gaze lingered. Calm. Assessing. Like a puppeteer counting strings.
Rihanna quickly looked away.
A man near her whispered something to the person beside him in Italian. The woman nodded, barely glancing toward Rihanna. That same cold detachment echoed around her like background static—ever-present, just beneath the surface.
The session ended with polite claps and sterile congratulations. A stack of orientation folders was passed around. Rihanna's had a navy seal stamped on the corner: "Divisione Direzionale."
Executive Division.
Her heart jumped.
As the others murmured and flipped through their folders, Bianca's voice rang again, crisp and cool.
"Rihanna Thompson—remain here, please. You've been assigned elsewhere."
Elsewhere?
Rihanna sat still as the room slowly emptied, the other employees exiting with curious backward glances. Once the door shut, Bianca circled to the seat across from her and crossed one elegant leg over the other.
"You've been reassigned," Bianca said smoothly. "It's a special division. Not many get that opportunity."
Rihanna blinked. "Is it... a different department?"
Bianca smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "It's where we send people who show promise. People who shine, even before they step in."
Her fingers drummed once against the folder on the table. "Your profile was reviewed personally."
"By... who?" Rihanna asked softly.
Bianca leaned forward, her voice like velvet wrapping something sharp."Lorenzo Moretti."
The name settled over the room like a drop of ink in clear water—spreading silently, darkening everything.
"He's a senior board executive. Brilliant. Private. He only takes one or two interns per year—those he deems worth his time."
Rihanna's mouth went dry. "I—I don't know if I—"
"You do," Bianca cut in, her smile returning. "You will. Your first day in his division is tomorrow. For now, enjoy the apartment we've arranged for you. You'll find the keys in your bag."
Rihanna reached down slowly and unzipped her handbag. Sitting neatly on top—wrapped in a black silk ribbon—was a single silver key, attached to a sleek tag with engraved letters:
Via della Scala, 25.Top Floor.
It wasn't the address she remembered applying with. She looked up sharply. "I thought I was in a shared apartment—?"
Bianca's tone turned syrupy. "Oh no, dear. Not anymore. Special employees deserve special comfort."
Later — Rihanna's New Apartment
It was... stunning.
High ceilings, soft gold lighting, Italian marble countertops, a glass balcony that opened to the Florence skyline. The scent of roses lingered in the air—like someone had placed them just before her arrival.
But something about it felt off.
Not wrong. Just... too perfect.
She walked slowly through the living space. Everything was set up already. A few books on the nightstand. Her favorite kind of tea in the cupboard. Even the shampoo in the shower was the exact brand she used back home.
How did they know?
She stood in the middle of the living room, turning slowly, arms crossed around herself. It was beautiful.
Too beautiful.
As if someone had already imagined her here, long before she stepped off the plane.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number:"Welcome to Italy, Miss Thompson. We hope your new place feels like home."
No name. No signature.
Rihanna's breath caught.
She stepped to the window, looking out at the street below.
Florence looked golden in the evening sun, blurred and soft like a dream. But behind the glass, behind the warmth and beauty—something watched her.
She didn't know it yet.But the game had already begun.