The Price of Wanting
Saturday arrived like a breath of freedom.
No alarms.
No deadlines.
No whispers trailing her name through glass hallways.
Élise woke late, sunlight spilling through her curtains, warming the quiet apartment. For the first time in weeks, her shoulders felt light. Milan outside her window buzzed with weekend energy laughter drifting up from cafés, the sound of heels on stone streets, the city alive and indulgent.
By noon, she was already laughing with Zara.
"Today," Zara announced, looping her arm through Élise's, "we forget work, rumors, and powerful men who don't know how to mind their business."
Élise laughed, genuinely this time. "Deal."
They wandered through the city, coffee in hand, stopping to admire storefronts and window displays. Zara pulled her into boutiques, spinning dresses off racks, teasing her into trying things she'd never dare to pick herself.
Then they saw it.
A boutique tucked between marble buildings glass windows glowing softly, mannequins draped in fabrics that looked like they belonged on magazine covers. Elegant. Refined. Dangerous.
"Oh no," Zara murmured, already slowing down.
"Yes," Élise whispered, eyes fixed on a midnight-blue dress displayed like a crown jewel.
They exchanged a look.
And walked in.
The air inside smelled expensive leather, perfume, confidence. Every hanger held something breathtaking. Dresses that hugged curves, suits cut with surgical precision, shoes that looked like art.
Élise reached for a dress, fingers brushing silk.
Then she saw the price.
Her breath caught.
"That's… half my salary," she whispered.
Zara leaned closer, reading the tag. Her smile froze. "For one dress?"
They laughed quietly at first disbelief, not humor. Then reality settled in. Everything was like that. Shoes worth months of rent. Blouses priced like luxury vacations.
Still, they tried to stay composed.
Élise approached a sales representative politely.
"Excuse me," she said softly. "Do you have… maybe a more affordable section? Something pocket-friendly?"
The woman's smile thinned.
"This is the store," she replied flatly. "Everything you see is what we offer."
Another sales rep nearby glanced at them, eyes sliding over their clothes with open judgment.
"People like to browse," she muttered, not quietly enough. "Even when they can't afford."
Zara stiffened. "Excuse me?"
The woman shrugged. "It's just… strange to come in here if you know the prices."
Heat crawled up Élise's neck. Not embarrassment ... humiliation. The kind that burns slowly, painfully.
"We were just asking," Élise said, voice steady but tight.
Another whisper followed.
A look.
A laugh.
That was when the atmosphere shifted.
A presence entered the room ...heavy, commanding, unmistakable.
"Is there a problem?"
The voice was calm. Controlled. Deadly.
Élise turned slowly.
Adriano Moretti stood near the entrance, dressed casually yet impossibly sharp dark jacket, crisp shirt, eyes cold enough to silence a room without effort.
Every staff member froze.
He looked at the sales reps. "Repeat what you said."
Silence.
"I asked you to repeat it."
One stammered, "We...we were just..."
"I don't tolerate disrespect in places I invest in," Adriano said evenly. "Manager. Now."
Within seconds, the manager appeared, pale and trembling.
"Anyone who spoke to these women like that," Adriano continued, eyes never leaving Élise, "is dismissed. Immediately."
Gasps rippled through the boutique.
Élise's heart pounded. "Mr. Moretti, that's not...."
He turned to her. His expression softened just a fraction.
"It is."
Then he gestured toward the racks.
"Pick anything you want. Both of you."
Zara's jaw dropped. "Anything?"
"Yes."
Élise shook her head quickly. "No, that's too much. People are losing their jobs because of us...."
"They're losing their jobs because of their behavior," Adriano corrected quietly. "And you're not leaving here empty-handed."
Zara leaned close to Élise, whispering, "If he insists, I'm not arguing."
Élise hesitated pride warring with something dangerous and thrilling. Adriano didn't rush her. He simply waited, hands in his pockets, eyes unwavering.
"You deserve better than being looked down on," he said softly. "Let me prove that."
Her breath caught.
Slowly, reluctantly, she nodded.
As Zara gleefully began pulling dresses from racks, Élise chose carefully one dress, elegant but simple. Adriano watched her, something unreadable in his gaze.
When they were done, he paid without blinking.
Outside, Milan felt different. Warmer. Louder. Charged.
"Okay," Zara breathed once Adriano walked away. "I take back everything I said about powerful men."
Élise stared after him, heart racing.
This wasn't about money.
It wasn't about clothes.
It was about presence.
Protection.
Power used deliberately for her.
And for the first time, she realized something unsettling:
Adriano Moretti didn't just notice her.
He had chosen her.
---
(Adriano's POV)
Adriano rarely noticed shop windows.
Milan offered too many distractions for that traffic, calls, schedules stacked back to back. His Saturdays were usually reserved for strategy meetings disguised as lunches, or quiet hours in the car reviewing documents while the city moved around him.
That afternoon, he sat in the backseat of his car, jacket unbuttoned, phone resting idly in his palm as his driver slowed near a familiar street.
The boutique.
One of his investments.
He lifted his gaze without thinking.
That was when he saw her.
Élise stood just inside the glass entrance, sunlight spilling over her hair as she laughed softly at something her friend said. For a second, Adriano forgot to look away.
She wasn't dressed like the women who usually walked into that store no quiet arrogance, no rehearsed elegance. Just simple confidence. Unforced. Real.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Then he noticed the sales representatives.
The way they stood too close.
The way one tilted her head, lips tight with something that wasn't professionalism.
The way Élise's posture changed, shoulders drawing inward just a fraction.
Adriano's jaw tightened.
"Stop the car," he said.
The driver hesitated. "Sir?"
"Now."
The door opened before the car fully halted.
Adriano stepped onto the pavement, already adjusting his cufflinks, expression composed. Investors were used to walking into places unnoticed until they weren't.
Inside, the air felt wrong.
He caught fragments of conversation immediately.
"…if you can't afford..."
"…this isn't a place for...."
That was enough.
"Is there a problem?" he asked calmly.
The words cut through the boutique like glass.
Every head turned.
The sales representatives stiffened the instant they recognized him. The color drained from their faces so fast it would've been almost amusing if not for the reason he was there.
Adriano's gaze flicked briefly to Élise.
She looked uncomfortable. Controlled. Trying not to show it.
That irritated him more than the disrespect itself.
"I asked a question," he said, voice level. "Is there a problem?"
One of the sales reps forced a laugh. "Of course not, sir. Just a misunderstanding..."
"I heard enough," Adriano interrupted.
He turned slightly, signaling toward the back. "Manager. Immediately."
The boutique manager appeared within seconds, already apologizing.
Adriano didn't acknowledge him at first.
Instead, he faced the sales staff.
"You work in a luxury space," he said quietly. "That does not give you permission to humiliate anyone."
Silence.
"Anyone involved in speaking disrespectfully to these women is dismissed. Today."
The manager swallowed hard. "Sir..."
"That wasn't a suggestion."
Adriano finally looked at Élise fully.
Her eyes met his surprised, conflicted, warm in a way he didn't allow himself to linger on.
"Choose whatever you want," he said. "Both of you."
Her reaction was immediate.
"No," she said softly but firmly. "That's too much."
Interesting.
Most people never refused him.
"You didn't ask for this," she continued. "And people are losing their jobs....."
"They lost their jobs because they forgot what respect looks like," Adriano replied. "Not because of you."
Her hesitation struck something deep and inconvenient.
She wasn't trying to gain anything from him.
That realization settled uncomfortably in his chest.
Her friend, Zara, didn't hesitate already scanning racks with barely concealed excitement. Élise, however, chose carefully. One dress. Simple. Elegant. Not excessive.
Adriano noticed.
When he paid, the amount barely registered.
What registered was the way Élise thanked him quietly, sincerely, without expectation.
As they stepped outside, Adriano stayed behind for a moment, watching them walk away.
Laughing now. Free.
His driver cleared his throat. "Shall we go, sir?"
Adriano nodded, returning to the car.
As Milan blurred past the window, his thoughts lingered where they shouldn't.
He hadn't intervened as an investor.
He hadn't stepped in as a CEO.
He had stepped in because he couldn't stand the idea of her being diminished.
And that realization unsettled him more than anything else that day.
Because Adriano Moretti did not act on impulse.
And yet, when it came to Élise
He already had.