The Donna He Took for Granted Chapter 02
At noon,
I left to meet a real estate agent and stepped into an elevator where Corrado and Tessa were waiting.
Tessa’s hair hung loose while Corrado gathered it into a ponytail.
The moment she saw me, Tessa put both hands on her hips, pursed her lips, and complained.
“Tavia, your timing is perfect. Look at Corrado.
“He keeps pulling my hair like some middle school boy. He’s so annoying.”
Before I could respond, Corrado pinched her nose and teased,
“Careful, sweetheart. Your nose will grow if you keep lying.”
After teasing color into Tessa’s cheeks, he finally granted me a glance.
“Ottavia, since you’re here, come have lunch with us.”
We had worked five years in the same Midtown building, Ventresca Tower, though on different floors.
Corrado had never once invited me to lunch.
Tessa, meanwhile, displayed every lunch they ate together across her social media feed.
I remembered all of that and smiled.
“You two go ahead. I have plans.”
Corrado’s face darkened at my refusal, but before he could react, the elevator jolted to a stop and went black.
I turned on my phone’s flashlight and saw Corrado cradling Tessa against his chest while murmuring gentle reassurances.
The elevator resumed moving soon afterward.
When we reached the lobby, Corrado offered me a ride.
Before I could answer, Tessa fainted.
Corrado knocked me aside without a second glance, lifted her onto his back, and rushed her to the hospital.
I picked up my phone, now cracked from the fall, called a cab, and went to view apartments.
That evening, Corrado personally delivered a dessert box to my desk.
Half an hour earlier, I had seen Tessa’s latest post.
Tessa:[When someone loves you, they keep feeding you. This girl can’t eat another bite.]
The photo showed a table covered with French pastries.
I offered a polite thank-you and left the dessert box sealed.
Confusion crossed Corrado’s face.
“Why are you being so polite with me?”
Instead of answering, I said,
“If there’s nothing else, I need to print some documents.”
By the time I returned with my resignation letter, Corrado was gone.
He had left a sticky note.
It told me to come upstairs when I finished working.
I tore it down and threw it away with the dessert.
Then I entered my supervisor’s office and resigned.
She spent a long time trying to change my mind, but when she realized my decision was final, she accepted my letter.
After completing my last week, I would be free to leave.
At ten that night, Corrado called while I was at a farewell dinner.
One of my male coworkers answered by mistake.
When I took the phone, Corrado’s voice was dangerously cold.
“Ottavia, where are you this late?”
“Out.”
“Send me your location. I’m coming to get you.”
He hung up before I could respond.
I sent my location and stayed until the restaurant closed.
Corrado never came.
When I opened Tessa’s profile, I found exactly what I expected: a new post showed her lying in a hospital bed with an IV.
I took a cab home alone, showered, and went to bed.
After three in the morning, Corrado finally came home and dragged me from sleep by shaking my shoulder.
He spoke without warmth.
“Ottavia, go to Casa Neroli in Little Italy and pick up a truffle lasagna.”
He never ate truffles and had always refused lasagna.
I knew Tessa wanted it.
As I tried to pull away, my fingers brushed the scar on the back of his hand.
Years earlier, a rival family had set fire to an auditorium at Columbia University. Corrado had pulled me from the flames when I had no chance of escaping alone.
Compared with that life-saving debt, one trip across the city in the middle of the night seemed insignificant.
When I silently changed clothes and headed for the door, Corrado caught my arm.
For once, he sounded uncertain.
“Maybe you should wait until morning. It isn’t like…”
I cut him off softly.
“Does she want anything besides the lasagna?”
After a moment of silence, he released me.
“No.”
