Caroline’s Point of View
The moment he speaks, I know I’m in trouble.
"I saw your job posting," he says, his deep, smooth voice laced with something effortlessly charming. "I’d like to apply."
Penelope grips my wrist hard under the counter, and I barely suppress a wince.
This man—this Italian god—is exactly the type of employee that would drive my customers crazy. And I don’t mean bad crazy. I mean good crazy. The buy-everything-in-the-store-just-to-see-him-smile kind of crazy.
He's got a boyish charm, younger but still undeniably handsome. Tall and lean, he carries himself with effortless confidence, the kind that turns heads without trying. His dark brown hair is tousled in that perfect mix of careless and intentional, and his sharp, well-defined features make it impossible to look away.
But it's his eyes that truly draw you in.
A deep, warm hazel—alive with mischief, edged with something both playful and a little dangerous.
He tilts his head, and I realize I’ve been quiet for too l
