Lucia sat in her small office, the wooden desk cluttered with patient files and scribbled notes. Her pen scratched quietly across the paper as she finished jotting down a final report. The air was calm, the faint ticking of the wall clock filling the silence.

She glanced at her wristwatch — only thirty minutes left before her shift ended. Relief flickered in her eyes. Just a little longer and she would meet Matteo. The thought softened her lips into a faint smile.

But the calm was shattered in an instant.

Suddenly, the office door burst open so hard it slammed against the wall. Lucia’s hand froze, her pen falling to the desk with a sharp clatter. She snapped her head up, her brows furrowing.

“Who the hell—” she muttered under her breath, only for her words to die on her tongue.

It was the director.

His face was flushed, his eyes burning with anger, his whole body trembling as though he had run all the way from his office.

Lucia immediately stood up, straightening herself. “Good evening, sir,” she greeted carefully, unsure of what storm she had just walked into. But her voice wavered when she noticed how violently his hands were shaking.

He didn’t return her greeting. Instead, his words came out in a roar that made her flinch.

“What happened yesterday?”

Lucia blinked, confusion flashing across her face. “Yesterday? Nothing happened, sir. I… I don’t understand—”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” The director’s voice thundered, the veins in his neck standing out. He slammed his hand on her desk, making the scattered files jump. “I have told you all several times — nobody should do another person’s work unless that person is unavailable! Dr. Viviana was here yesterday. Yet you—” his eyes burned into hers, “—you decided to go in her place. Why?”

Lucia’s lips parted, but her words stumbled out, weak, uncertain. “I… I only helped her because she had something very serious at home. I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think?” The director cut her off, his voice rising even louder. His chest heaved with every breath. “Can you imagine! Do you want to ruin this hospital? Do you want to destroy my hard work, my sweat? The patient complained bitterly!”

Lucia’s heart dropped. Her throat felt tight, dry. She had never seen the director like this before — his fury, his desperation, the raw fear behind his eyes.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Her voice came out soft, trembling. “It won’t happen again.”

The director leaned closer, his face twisted with anger and unease. “Doctor Lucia, listen to me very carefully. You will go to the client’s house. The one you treated in Vivian’s place yesterday. You will dress his wound again.”

Lucia’s eyes widened. Shock shot through her chest. “What?”

“Yes.” His tone left no room for protest. “You will go. And this time, you won’t get on the patient’s nerves. All patients should be treated with respect. Is that clear, Doctor Lucia?”

Lucia’s lips trembled. She wanted to argue, to demand why. But the intensity in his eyes made her heart race. It was fear she saw there.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she finally nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Yes, sir.”

The director didn’t spare her another glance. He straightened, adjusted his tie with shaky hands, and stormed out of her office, slamming the door shut behind him.

Silence returned — but it was heavier now, suffocating.

Lucia stood frozen, her chest rising and falling fast. She lowered herself into her chair, her mind racing.

Why would a simple change of doctor warrant destroying the hospital? she thought, her brows furrowing. It’s just a wound dressing. Nothing serious. Nothing worth this kind of panic.

It was the first time she had ever seen the director lose control.

She rubbed her temple, her head pounding.

Her eyes fell to her wristwatch again. Ten minutes past six. She should have been on her way to Matteo by now. Disappointment sank in her chest like a stone. She clenched her jaw.

And now I have to see that man again.

Her lips twisted with disgust as the memory of his cold eyes flashed in her mind.

Of course, it was him. It had to be him who reported her absence. How else would the director know so quickly? And not just know — but shake with fear, as though his very life depended on appeasing this patient.

He must have threatened him.

Lucia’s fists clenched tightly. Anger boiled through her veins, hot and sharp.

“What the hell does he want from me?” she whispered bitterly. Massimo, or whatever his name is…

She shoved the files aside and began packing her bag with the supplies she would need to redress the wound. The clink of bottles and rustle of gauze filled the office as her hands moved quickly, though her chest burned with frustration.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t want to see him again. She hated the thought of walking into that mansion, into his presence. But she had no choice.

---

The black SUV rolled past the towering iron gates again, the guards in their black suits bowing their heads slightly as the vehicle entered.

Inside the car, Lucia’s jaw was set tight, her fingers clenched around her medical kit. She didn’t even bother looking at the grandeur this time—her eyes burned with quiet irritation. Why me again? she thought. All because of one arrogant billionaire who thinks the world revolves around him.

When the car stopped in front of the massive entrance, one of Massimo’s men opened the door for her. Lucia stepped out, her face calm but her chest burning with anger.

Lucia stepped into the mansion, she had one goal—finish the work, get out, and reclaim the evening she had lost. She didn’t speak, didn’t look around, just followed the path laid out before her.

In the hallway, she almost collided with a young woman. Beautiful, elegantly dressed, wearing a luxury gown, her hair was neatly packed. Probably his girlfriend, Lucia thought bitterly. Poor girl, dating someone insane. The woman smiled and said, “Hi.”

Lucia ignored her completely, keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead.

The corridor ended at a large door. Inside, Massimo sat opposite another man, both deep in discussion. The moment the door opened, the two men glanced up. The other man, stood almost immediately. “We’ll see and talk later,” he said, before leaving, shutting the door behind him.

Lucia moved to Massimo’s side, setting down her bag and beginning to open it for the tools she needed.

Massimo’s gaze didn't move. He watched her every movement, every gesture, as if she was the only thing in the room.

Her heartbeat quickened, though she scolded herself immediately for it. She forced her expression into a professional mask.

“You’re here,” Massimo said, voice low and calm. “Not even a greeting? Is that how you treat your patient?”

She didn’t answer.

“Anyways,” he continued, “good evening.”

Still, she ignored him. She slipped on her gloves, her tone clipped. “I want to dress your wound. Kindly remove your shirt.”

Massimo complied, and she began. Her movements were professional. He studied her face as if trying to read her thoughts, but she kept her expression neutral, eyes on the wound, hands steady.

“Are you always this quiet, or just with me?” he asked, voice measured. "And you look beautiful when you're angry "

Lucia heart betrayed her with a sudden rush, but she bit her lip and focused on fastening the new bandage, determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“About what we discussed yesterday… have you considered it?”

She didn’t answer.

“What if I increase it?” he said after a moment, smirk curling slightly at his lips. “Ten million. Ten million for one night.”

Lucia paused, looking at him sharply. “You must be crazy.”

“Yes,” he said, voice low, almost a whisper, “I’m crazy for you.”

She stared at him, irritation burning in her chest, but ignored him again. “Rest room ,” she said shortly.

Massimo pointed the way. She left.

The bathroom door closed behind her, and her phone rang. Curiosity flickered in Massimo’s eyes. He rose, moving over to her bag, and picked up the phone. The screen lit up with the name: Matteo with a small heart emoji.

Something cold tightened inside him. The thought of another man calling and speaking to her make him angry and irritated. He let the phone stop ringing. He put it back where he’d found it.

Lucia returned from the restroom. “We’re done, Mr Massimo. I’ll send the hospital a report.” she said, voice steady, “you don’t need anyone to dress your wound anymore. It will heal with time.”

She packed her tools into her bag and turned to leave.

But Massimo moved in front of the door. “What if I want you to always treat my wounds?”

She had had enough. “Enough of this nonsense Mr Massimo. Move. I need to go home.”

He stepped closer. She moved back, but the space between them shrank until she was aware of his scent, the heat of him. Before she could step back again, he leaned forward, tucking some strands of her hair behind her ear. Her chest tightened.

"I love the way you called my name; I can make you moan it," Massimo said with a dark smirk that sent a shiver down her bone. That’s when she understood—he was truly insane.

"It's getting too late Mr Massimo, and I..."

“How much do I need to pay to get you?” he asked again, cutting her deliberate.

“Go fuck yourself,” she snapped. And she walked past him, out of the room.

Slowly, he tapped his phone. “Find everything,” he said to one of his men. “I need all information about the doctor who just left.”

“I will come for you soon, amore.”