Pedro's POV
Pedro leaned back in his chair, watching his team shuffle papers and type at their computers. Milan's late morning sunlight poured through the office windows, but his attention wasn't on the city. It was on the little buzz he'd caught earlier a whisper about a French intern. Élise Dupont.
He had been reviewing the monthly reports when one of the boutique staff members he was in contact with a manager from a luxury store where he had minor investments called him unexpectedly. Pedro didn't usually pick up random calls about retail, but this one had a peculiar urgency in the voice.
"Pedro, I hope I'm not bothering you," the manager said, his voice low and nervous. "I… need to tell you about something that happened yesterday. A young French woman… I think her name is Élise, came in with a friend, and… well, there was a situation."
Pedro leaned forward, elbows on the polished desk, steepling his fingers. "Go on. I'm listening."
The manager swallowed. "Some of our staff… they weren't polite. Rude, actually. And it escalated. But then… a man intervened. Paid for everything. Told the staff off. Fired a few people. It… it was dramatic, sir."
Pedro's lips curved into a small, knowing smirk. Of course. Adriano Moretti. That man couldn't help himself, could he? And Élise… she had somehow, effortlessly, managed to catch his attention. That explained the intervention, the sudden drama.
"And the young woman?" Pedro asked, tilting his head. "How did she handle it?"
"Gracefully," the manager replied. "Composed, polite… calm, even when everything around her was chaotic. She didn't shout, didn't cause a scene… not at all like someone else might have."
Pedro leaned back in his chair, smirking faintly. That's what makes her… interesting. His dark eyes narrowed as he pictured her in the boutique: her polite smile, the slight hesitation before accepting help, the subtle, unassuming confidence that seemed to radiate even in a room full of chaos.
"Thank you for telling me," Pedro said. "I appreciate it."
He ended the call and sat silently for a moment, running a hand through his hair. Interesting. Very interesting indeed.
Then he pulled out his phone and dialed Élise. He had no real reason other than curiosity, and perhaps a little desire to see how she'd react when he spoke to her.
Her voice picked up after a few rings.
"Hello?"
"Élise," Pedro said casually, trying to sound nonchalant. "Are you free for lunch today?"
A brief pause. "Uh… I think so. Why?"
"I know a little place nearby," Pedro began smoothly. "It's quiet, good food, not too fancy. Thought we could go together take a proper break from work."
"Together?" she asked, soft laughter in her tone. "Just the two of us?"
Pedro leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Yes, just the two of us. No distractions. A break from emails, phones, and, of course, office chaos."
She hesitated. "Alright… what time?"
"Noon?" Pedro said. "Perfect timing."
After hanging up, Pedro grinned faintly. This would be interesting seeing her outside of work, seeing her react without the polished office façade, and maybe even learning a few things about her that weren't obvious from her desk in the admin department.
By noon, Pedro was walking toward the small, stylish café a few blocks from the office. It wasn't fancy just comfortable, the kind of place where business lunches and casual meetings overlapped without anyone feeling out of place. He spotted Élise already seated, glancing through a small menu and tapping her pen thoughtfully against her notebook.
"Hey," he said as he approached. "Mind if I join?"
She looked up, surprised, then smiled softly. "Of course, Pedro. Have a seat."
Pedro slid into the seat across from her, leaning slightly forward. "So… how's your morning been?"
Élise shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Busy, but fine. There's… a lot to learn. I keep trying to stay on top of everything. But yesterday… well, you might have heard about it."
Pedro raised an eyebrow. "I might have. Boutique incident?"
Her eyes widened slightly. "You… you heard about that?"
"Someone filled me in," Pedro said casually. "I had to hear it from the source."
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "It was… kind of awkward. I didn't expect anyone to step in. I just wanted to shop quietly."
Pedro leaned back slightly, watching her, studying her. "You handled it well. Polite, calm, composed. That's… impressive. Most people would have either panicked or snapped back."
Élise's cheeks tinged pink. "I guess… I just didn't want to make a scene."
Pedro smirked. "Sometimes, standing out without trying is more memorable than causing a scene intentionally. You managed to do both."
She laughed softly, looking down at her hands. Pedro noticed everything: the subtle blush, the way she twirled a pen absentmindedly, the slight tilt of her head when she was curious. She doesn't even realize it, he thought, how magnetic she is.
"So," he continued, leaning slightly forward, "tell me. Outside work… what's Milan like for you? Food, streets, the chaos are you enjoying it?"
"It's amazing," she said, her eyes lighting up. "But… it's overwhelming too. Everything is fast, stylish, and… intense. Sometimes I feel like I'm chasing just to keep up."
Pedro smirked. "Good thing you're keeping up. Better than most, actually. And honestly, I notice things other people miss the way you handle yourself, how you react in situations. It's… unique."
Her cheeks warmed, and she glanced down, unsure how to respond. Pedro found the hesitation… endearing, and dangerous for him, because he was already intrigued.
"So," he said, "since you're surviving Milan and the fashion elite, how about lunch today? Think of it as a reward for handling chaos with dignity."
Élise laughed softly, shaking her head. "I don't know if I need a reward, but… alright. I'll take your word for it."
Pedro grinned. "Good. You won't regret it."
Their conversation drifted easily after that, jumping between work stories, funny incidents in the office, and her experiences navigating the city. Pedro observed, calculated, and absorbed everything from her expressions to the subtle inflections in her voice.
"You know," he said casually after a pause, "I never realized how interesting it is to see someone in their element outside the office. Most people change they pretend to be someone else. You don't. That's… refreshing."
Élise tilted her head, looking at him curiously. "Refreshing?"
Pedro shrugged, smiling faintly. "Yes. You're… genuine. And in a place like Milan, genuine is… rare."
She laughed, brushing the compliment off, but he noticed the small flicker of pride in her eyes.
As they finished lunch, Pedro couldn't help but think about the boutique incident again. Not the event itself, but the ripple it caused. The way Adriano Moretti would react when he learned, the subtle tensions that would form in the office, and, most importantly, Élise's reaction.
She has no idea, he thought, smirking. And I intend to watch it all unfold.
They walked back toward the office, talking casually about work and upcoming projects, but Pedro's mind was already plotting, imagining different ways he could observe Adriano's reactions, subtly stir things, and see just how much attention Élise commanded without even trying.
"Same time tomorrow?" he asked lightly as they approached the elevators.
Élise laughed softly. "We'll see."
Pedro grinned. "We will."
And as he stepped into his own department, he couldn't shake the thought: This internship, this girl… it's going to be far more interesting than I expected.
---
Élise's POV
By the time the clock finally struck six, my brain felt like it had been wrung dry.
The office lights dimmed slightly as people began shutting down their computers, chairs scraping softly against the tiled floor. Zara stretched beside me, arms raised above her head, letting out a dramatic groan.
"I swear, if I have to look at one more spreadsheet today, I'll cry," she said.
I laughed quietly as I slid my notebook into my bag. "You say that every day."
"And every day, it's still true," she shot back, spinning her chair toward me. "So. What are your plans tonight, Madame French Girl?"
I hesitated. "Honestly? Go home, eat something random, maybe unpack a little, then sleep."
Zara stared at me like I had just confessed a crime.
"Absolutely not."
I blinked. "What do you mean, 'absolutely not'?"
She leaned closer, lowering her voice dramatically even though half the department had already left. "You are not going back to sit alone in your apartment. I'm bored, Elise. Hella bored. And it's the weekend."
"It's Friday," I corrected.
"Exactly," she said, grinning. "Which means I'm stealing you. You're coming to stay with me for a few days."
I laughed, shaking my head. "Zara...."
"No excuses," she interrupted. "We work together all week, but somehow you still disappear every evening like a ghost. I refuse to let that continue."
I zipped my bag and stood. "You make it sound like a hostage situation."
"It is," she said cheerfully. "A friendly one."
As we walked toward the elevators together, the quiet hum of the office settling around us, I felt a strange sense of relief. The week had been intense learning systems, proving myself, navigating stares that lingered a little too long. Having Zara beside me made it easier. Safer.
"Just a few days," I said finally. "I still have things to sort out at my place."
She clapped her hands softly. "Deal. A few days is all I need."
Outside, Milan was buzzing the way it always did at the end of the workweek. The air felt lighter, the streets louder, filled with laughter, engines, and distant music. We walked side by side, our heels clicking in rhythm.
"You've been quiet today," Zara said after a moment. "Work stress? Or… something else?"
I knew what she meant. Everyone in the office had noticed the way things had shifted around me lately the glances, the whispers that cut off when I walked past.
"It's nothing," I said carefully. "Just adjusting."
She hummed, clearly unconvinced. "You know people are curious about you, right?"
I sighed. "I know."
"And you know why."
I stopped walking and looked at her. "Zara."
"I'm not judging," she said quickly. "I'm just saying… Milan loves a story. And you, my dear, walked straight into one."
I thought of the boutique. Of the way everything had spiraled without my permission. Of Pedro's easy smile earlier that week, the way people watched when we spoke in the office corridors.
"I didn't ask for any of it," I said softly.
"I know," she replied, looping her arm through mine. "That's why you need a break. Good food. Good drinks. No thinking."
We stopped at a small café near her apartment, the warm glow inside spilling onto the street. Zara ordered for both of us without asking espresso for her, something sweet for me.
As we sat by the window, watching the city move, my phone buzzed briefly in my bag. I didn't check it. For once, I didn't want to.
"Tell me something," Zara said, stirring her drink. "Are you happy you came to Milan?"
I didn't answer immediately. The truth was complicated.
"I think," I said slowly, "I'm becoming someone new here. And that's scary."
She smiled. "Good. That means it's working."
Later, as we walked the short distance to her apartment, laughter echoing between us, I felt the weight of the office fade just a little. Whatever awaited me on Monday the looks, the assumptions, the questions I couldn't yet answer tonight was simple.
Two friends. Same department. Same exhaustion. Same city.
And for now, that was enough.