Chapter 2 First Impression

Francesca stared at her reflection in the mirror, but it felt like she was looking at someone else. Her hair was tousled from hours of distracted thinking, and she still wore the deep burgundy dress from the party. It hugged her curves, but all she could feel was the weight of Luca's touch, his gaze-intense, impossible to ignore. She absentmindedly ran her fingers through her hair, but the motion didn't calm her. The room seemed smaller now, the silence heavier. With a sharp exhale, she blinked, trying to push the thoughts away. But they clung to her, her heart still racing.

This wasn't just physical attraction. It was something else-something unspoken that made no sense. "Focus, Francesca," she whispered to herself, but the confusion only deepened. She studied her reflection, feeling an odd disconnection. She had met men before with the same magnetic charm, the ones who made women like her feel both invisible and intensely seen. But Luca... he hadn't tried. He didn't need to. His presence alone had disarmed her. Her hand reached for a glass of water on the counter. She almost didn't touch it, but the cold edge beneath her fingers triggered memories of his touch-his hand, a permanent ghost on her skin. Francesca stepped back from the mirror. Her eyes landed on an empty pregnancy test box on the counter. A sudden wave of nausea hit her-sharp, twisting. The words on the test, "Expecting a child," blurred before her eyes. The world tilted beneath her feet. She let out a desperate laugh, bitter and hollow. She stared at the test in disbelief, dropping it back onto the counter. How? Gripping the edge of her bed, Francesca collapsed onto it, her heart thudding as the moments replayed in her mind. The test results are indisputable. The room felt too small, the walls closing in on her as she tried to process it. Expecting a child. This wasn't supposed to happen. She didn't even know Luca. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to. But this small, plastic strip had the power to change everything. A storm of disbelief, fear, and something darker raged in her mind. This isn't possible. It's a mistake. But deep down, she knew it wasn't. There was a truth here she couldn't deny. Her hands ran through her hair, eyes flicking to the wall clock. Minutes-maybe hours-slipped by as she tried to clear her thoughts. Luca's face, his words, the promise in his eyes... Soon, we'll meet again. The thought gnawed at her. What did it mean? She picked up her phone as it rang, the sudden noise startling her. The number was unfamiliar, but the area code was familiar-Luca's eatery. Her heart slammed against her chest. She almost didn't answer. This was too much. But before she could think, her shaking finger tapped the green icon. "Hello?" Her voice was barely audible. There was a long pause before a smooth, familiar voice filled the line. "Francesca." Her pulse quickened, her grip tightening on the phone. Luca. This wasn't possible. His voice was calm, almost too calm. "I'm glad you answered. I've wanted to talk to you." "Why?" she asked, trying to steady her voice. After a beat, Luca spoke again, and this time there was something new in his tone. Was it warmth? Or was it just her imagination? "I've been watching your work," he said, deliberately. "And you seem like just the person I need." Her stomach twisted, unsure whether the feeling was from the weight of the moment or something more sinister. "Do you need something?" she asked, her voice laced with hesitation. "For what purpose?" Luca's response was precise and controlled. "I'm offering you a position as the executive chef at my restaurant. I believe you can make the difference I'm looking for." Francesca blinked. This was not what she expected. "What?" Her voice faltered. "Why me?" His tone softened, as if the answer were obvious. "You'll create a stir." And I don't think you're the type to back down from a challenge." A surge of emotions hit her-shock, curiosity, and something darker, hidden beneath the surface. Her mind whispered of ulterior motives, but she couldn't ignore the offer. It was everything she'd worked for, except for him. Luca. Before he could speak again, Francesca abruptly ended the call. "Let me think about it," she said, her voice shaking as she hit the red button. The air around her felt thick, suffocating, even after the call ended. She sat back down on the couch, trying to steady her racing heart. The offer was alluring. She was offered the executive chef position. It was everything she'd dreamed of, except that it came with a price-Luca. Her fingers grazed the edge of the glass on the table. Focus. It was just a job. It was merely an opportunity for her to demonstrate her abilities. But the gnawing feeling in her gut refused to let go. Luca didn't make rash decisions. This wasn't about cooking-he wanted something else. She could feel it. Her phone buzzed again. Luca. Despite the unease settling in her chest, she answered. "Francesca," Luca's voice came through again, calm but chilling. "I realize this might be a shock, but I've been following your career for a while. I know you're capable of more. This is your opportunity to show it." Francesca bit her lip, unsure. "And in exchange? What do you want from me?" Luca paused. She could almost hear him savoring her question. "I want the best for you," he said plainly. "That's all." Something about his tone unsettled her. I'm not a puppet-she wasn't a piece in his game. "And you think I'll just accept this? Walk right into your offer?" Another pause. "I think you should. You need this just as much as I do. Her heartbeat raced. She didn't know how to respond. The job was everything she had ever desired. But Luca? She couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this offer, more beneath the surface. "Let me think about it," she repeated, her voice unsteady.