The Alpha's Mafia Luna novel Chapter 93

Chapter 93

Serene’s POV

If someone had told me a few weeks ago that I’d be working in a

massive glass building with my own desk and a fancy job title, I

probably would’ve laughed. Not because I didn’t believe I was capable

-but because it had always felt like the world was set against me. It

still did, sometimes.

But here I was.

Wearing flats instead of heels because I valued my ankles. Holding a

clipboard that made me look more organized than I actually was.

Standing in front of the elevator on the top floor of Draven

Enterprises, waiting for the return of a man no one had seen in

months: Lucas Draven.

The name alone carried weight. Lucas. Draven. CEO. Ghost.

He’d been overseas managing the company’s expansion and hadn’t

stepped foot in this office building since I’d started. Until today.

There was a quiet buzz of tension in the air–everyone had dressed a

little nicer, spoken a little softer. You could practically feel people

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breathing more carefully. Camille had even cleaned out the executive

coffee machine herself. That was a first.

My blouse was pressed, my hair was pulled back, and I was mentally

reciting a list of things not to say: Don’t make a joke. Don’t mention

the weather. Don’t say “cool beans.”

I sighed through my nose.

The elevator doors finally dinged open.

Lucas Draven stepped out.

Tall. Controlled. Sharp features with piercing eyes that looked like

they belonged in a movie, not in real life. He wore a charcoal–gray

suit like it was made just for him, and his black tie was so crisp it

could’ve sliced paper. Everyone went quiet–like the air itself paused.

Camille greeted him first. “Welcome back, Mr. Draven.”

His voice was low, polished. “Camille.”

His gaze flicked past her and landed on me. I stood a little straighter.

“You must be Serene.”

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“Yes, sir.” I offered a smile that didn’t feel too stiff.

He held my gaze for a second longer than I expected. “Follow me.”

Camille shot me a discreet thumbs up behind his back. I swallowed

hard and trailed behind him through the polished hallway to his

private office.

His office was huge. Not in a flashy way, but in the kind of way that

said: “I make decisions that affect entire markets.” Floor–to–ceiling

windows overlooked the skyline, and shelves lined with books

stretched across the wall. A globe sat in the corner, next to a

chessboard that looked like it hadn’t been touched in a while.

He motioned toward a leather chair in front of his desk. “Sit.”

I did.

Lucas leaned back in his chair and looked through a document before

setting it aside. “Camille spoke highly of you. And from what I’ve

seen, you’re efficient. Punctual. Smart.”

“Thank you.” I tried not to let my nerves show.

“But you’re not just here to schedule meetings and take notes.”

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I blinked. “I’m not?”

His mouth twitched–almost like he found my confusion amusing. “A

personal assistant isn’t just a secretary. I’ll be trusting you with high-

level information. Clients. Strategy. You’ll be a shadow to everything I

do.”

I felt a lump rise in my throat. “Okay.”

“Can you handle that?”

I held his gaze. “Yes.”

He gave a short nod. “Good.”

For the next few hours, I followed him through meetings, took notes

like my life depended on it, and tried to keep up with the way he

spoke–fast, precise, and straight to the point. Lucas didn’t waste

words. Or time.

Around noon, I was organizing files on my desk when he walked past

and stopped.

“You didn’t eat,” he said.

I looked up, blinking. “I–um–I wasn’t sure if-”

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He gestured toward the private kitchen. “Grab something. There’s

food.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

I made my way into the small but sleek kitchen and found neatly

packed containers labeled “for Lucas.” There were extras. I picked a

salad and a bottle of water, then ate quietly at my desk, occasionally

glancing through the glass toward his office. He was on the phone,

standing by the window, one hand in his pocket.

I wondered what he was like outside the office. What he looked like

without the suit. What he sounded like when he wasn’t talking about

profit margins and acquisitions.

And then I shook the thought away. This was a job.

After lunch, we had back–to–back meetings with executives from

finance and tech. I typed furiously, scribbled notes when needed, and

did my best to make sure he had everything at his fingertips before he

asked.

At one point, he glanced at me and said, “You anticipate things well.”

I smiled softly. “Thank you.”

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He didn’t smile back, but there was a glint in his eye. Like maybe, just

maybe, I’d passed some unspoken test.

The day moved fast. I barely had time to check my phone. When the

final meeting ended, I was almost afraid to exhale. But Lucas leaned

back in his chair, watching me from across the desk.

“You’re different from most people here.”

My spine straightened. “In a good way, I hope.”

“Time will tell.”

He stood and walked over to the window, hands behind his back. The

sun was starting to set, casting warm amber light into the room.

“You’ve been through things,” he said, still facing the skyline.

It wasn’t a question. More like a quiet observation.

I didn’t answer.

Lucas finally turned to look at me. “You don’t talk much about your

past.”

I met his gaze. “That’s because it’s behind me.”

C

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For the first time, he smiled–barely. Just a ghost of one. “Good

answer.”

I nodded, gathering my things. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He watched me go but didn’t say anything else.

When I stepped outside, the cool evening air hit me like a breath of

freedom. I walked slowly toward my car–a small, beat–up one I’d

taken from Damian’s place. I could’ve picked something fancier, but I

didn’t want to. I wanted something quiet. Simple. Mine.

As I got in and started the engine, I sat there for a moment.

Lucas Draven was nothing like I expected. He wasn’t cruel or

arrogant. But he was intense. Controlled. Focused. Like he was always

thinking ten steps ahead.

I wondered what it would be like to see him lose control.

Then I mentally slapped myself and drove home.

Back at the apartment, Naia was waiting on the couch, wearing fuzzy

socks and eating chips.

“You survived!” she cheered.

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“Barely,” I muttered, dropping my bag and kicking off my shoes.

“Tell me everything. Did the CEO brenthe fire? Is he a robot? Or*

secret vampire?”

I laughed. “None of the above, He’s… different,”

Naia raised a brow. “Different like ‘oh no, he’s hot‘ different?”

I threw a pillow at her.

Comments

R Visitor

1 Comments >

She’s always thinking about a man. it

makes me want to quit reading the book.

7 days ago

60

凸。