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Exclusively Yours - Episode 1



Exclusively Yours - Episode 1

Subtitle; {Please, Love Me}


Olivia's POV

I haté Mondays. I haté Mondays so much. 

Mondays are the worst days ever in the history of wórst days. Anyone who likes Mondays should be arrested. 

They always feel like the most challenging days in the week. 

As I reluctantly woke up to the blaring sound of my digital alarm clock, I couldn't help but groan and bury my face in my pillow. It felt like the weekend had just ended, and I was already back to the start of the workweek. 

With a tired yawn, I finally managed to get out of bed and made my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth. 

It's hard to believe that a twenty-three-year-old like me wakes up at five every weekday just to hit the gym and ensure I'm not late for work. 

But hey, that's what I do, and I'm committed to it.

Have I mentioned before how much I déspise Mondays? 

Well, let me reiterate it once more. I absolutely loathe Mondays. 

Today, I feel utterly exhausted, particularly after my intense treadmill session. 

The fatigue is overwhelming, draining every ounce of energy from my body. I find myself constantly yawning, and my muscles ache with weariness. 

Thankfully, a cup of coffee has the power to remedy it all. Coffee is my second lifeline, right after oxygen. Without it, I struggle to function properly. 

As I step into the Cafe, dressed in a crisp white blouse and a simple black skirt, my hair cascading down my back in its natural wavy glory, I remind myself to stay calm. 

Nothing can ruin your day now, Olivia.

Boy, was I mistaken. 

Just when I believed my day couldn't possibly worsen, it did. 

Out of nowhere, a teenage boy comes sprinting towards me and collides with me, causing my coffee to spill all over my pristine white shirt. 

It was incredibly frustrating, but I couldn't bring myself to get angry at him, especially when he was so adorable and sincerely apologetic. 

Fantastic. Simply fantastic. Now my blouse is completely ruined, as is my coffee.


"You're late," I heard the familiar voice pierce through the air. 

I glanced up to find Ramona, my manager, standing before me. Her voice, as always, was grating and irritating, making her presence hard to ignore. 

Ramona, the self-proclaimed "prettiest" girl in Adamson's Publishing House, was known for her constant need to exert control and her inexplicable jealousy towards me. 

Annoyed, I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "I'm well aware," I retorted, my frustration evident. 

Ramona hummed disapprovingly, her gaze filled with disdain as she scrutinized me. "Seems like you're showing some attitude," she remarked, her tone dripping with condescension. 

It seemed like dealing with her antics had become a daily occurrence. 

I groaned inwardly, not in the mood for her theatrics. All I wanted was to change my shirt in the peace of my office.

"Look, I'm not interested in whatever you have to say right now," I replied impatiently, my desire to escape her presence growing stronger. 

Stepping aside, I attempted to walk away.

"Hey!" Ramona's voice echoed, halting me in my tracks. She had positioned herself directly in front of me once again. "Don't forget that I am your senior here. Show some respect, okay?" 

I sighed, my gaze fixated on her retreating figure. The sound of her high heels echoed on the pavement as she confidently strutted away, leaving me with a mix of longing and regret. 

Running my fingers across my forehead, I let out another sigh and made my way towards my office.

As soon as I stepped into the room, the incessant ringing of the telephone on my desk filled the air. The phone continued to ring, and I picked it up on the second ring.

With a sense of urgency, I reached for the receiver and answered, "Adamson's Publishing House, how may I assist you?" 

A familiar, hoarse voice crackled through the line, belonging to none other than my boss. "Come to my office," he demanded. 

I nodded in acknowledgment, fully aware of the raspy quality of his voice. Not hoarse in a seductive or alluring way, but rather the result of years of smoking and the unfortunate consequence of lung cancer.


Gently tapping on the door, I patiently awaited his permission to enter before stepping inside. "You requested my presence," I uttered in the most courteous tone I could summon, disregarding the way he scrutinized me. 

"I was informed that you arrived late today, is that correct?" 

Of course, that unpleasant bítch must have divulged it to him. 

"May I inquire about the reason?" 

No, you may not. 

"I apologize, sir. It won't occur again," I simply responded, declining to delve into the specifics of my challenging day. 

He slowly rose from his chair, approaching my position. "Olivia..." 

"Ms. Donovan, sir," I corrected, restraining myself from saying more. A forced smile tugged at my lips.

"Olivia, why won't you accept my proposal?" he asked, standing in front of me. 

Confused, I wondered what proposal he was referring to. However, a sudden realization hit me - was he talking about the inappropriàte advances he had been making towards me? 

I took a couple of steps back, feigning cluelessness. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand."

"Don't act like a little girl," he said, leaning in closer to my face. Discomfort washed over me as he continued, "You know what I want, why won't you just give it to me?"

"Sir..." I began, but he interrupted me, taking a slow walk around me, obviously checking me out. 

Despite feeling uncomfortable, I hid my unease. "Darling, I know you want it too. There's no need to play hard to get." His words made me cringe internally, and I let out an exhale.

"Sir, I have no idea what you're talking about. May I go back to my office if you don't need me here?" I asked, hoping to escape the situation.

"Oh, I want you," he replied, licking his lips while his eyes lingered on my chest. "I want you so badly." As his inappropriate comments continued, I couldn't help but wonder if pushing this perverted boss of mine off a ten-story building would count as múrder. I can make it look like an accident

His hands forcefully grip my waist, and he utters, "I want to have séx with you." 

Reacting swiftly, I push him away and deliver a resounding slap across his face. "Don't you dare try that again!" I assert, my voice filled with anger.

"Olivia..." he begins to say, but I cut him off. 

"Enough!" I snap. "I've had enough of your inappropriàte behavior. Just stop it!"

"How dare you slap me?!" he retorts angrily, his perverted flirting turning into rage. 

"If you touch me again, I swear to God, I'll do something worse."

"You're firéd!" he declares, as if he has the power to dismiss me so easily. 

This is his fault, and he needs to acknowledge that. I won't let him firé me like this. 

"Absolutely not," I scoff, shaking my head. Pointing my finger at him, I let out a snicker. "If you think you can firé me, you're gravély mistaken. I'm resigning!"

"Get out!" he shouts, but I can't help but burst into laughter. I let it out maniacally, running my fingers through my disheveled hair. 

"Listen, you do realize that I could report this to the police, right? You're a disgustíng, lówlife, bàstardized pérvert who lacks sénse or mannérs. I will not wish that your daughters get treated like this, but you will definitely rót in héll. That is a promise."  

With one last glance at his face, filled with frustration and anger, I stormed out of the office. My day just keeps getting worse. As I stepped out of the elevator, I unexpectedly bumped into Ramona again. 

The anger still lingering within me, I snapped, "Watch it."

"You bumped into me, fool," she retorted. 

Letting out a sigh, I nodded my head and said, "Sorry."

"Whatever," she replied dismissively. 

"You must be very happy right now."

Confused by my statement, she asked, "What do you mean?" She faced me, folding her hands, her eyes filled with disdain as if I were some sort of worthléss individual.

"You won't see me again," I stated, trying to convey my frustration.

"Do you plan on making me blind?" she stupidly responded. 

I quickly realized the absurdity of her question. 

She is dàft. 

No, of course not. If I had wanted to do that, I would have done it a year ago when I started working here. 

I chuckled, shaking my head, and said, "No."

"So, what exactly are you talking about?" 

I can't believe how clueless she is. 

"I resigned." 

"Wow, that's great!" Ramona exclaims, her happiness evident on her face. "Are you leaving now?"

Classic Ramona. I expected nothing less. 

"Yes," I nod, a small smile forming on my lips. Stepping closer to her, I lean in and whisper in her ear. "Just because I'm leaving doesn't mean you're better or prettier than me." 

I've been wanting to say that since last year. It feels satisfying to finally put her in her place. 

She takes a step back, her joy fading as a glare replaces it. "What the héck do you mean?" 

A mischievous smirk appears on my face, followed by a little giggle. "Did you really think I didn't know you were jealóus of me? Come on, you weren't subtle about it." I tap her shoulder twice. "Don't worry, Ramona, I'm out of your hair."


Sitting comfortably on my sofa, I indulged in a delicious bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream while scrolling through the extensive movie selection on Netflix. 

As I savored a spoonful of creamy goodness, I stumbled upon a TV show called Surviving Summer and decided to give it a try. 

My phone, lying beside me, suddenly lit up, catching my attention. Without much thought, I picked it up and tapped the answer icon, activating the loudspeaker. 

"Yes?" I greeted, curious about the caller's request. 

"Hey, are you up for some drinks?" It was Axel, one of my closest friends, his excitement evident in his voice. 

Knowing Axel for eight years had given me insight into his every move. 

"You won the case?" I asked, already aware of the answer. 

"You wítch, how did you know?" Axel playfully exclaimed, unaware of my knowing smile. 

Taking another spoonful of ice cream, I nonchalantly replied, "I just do. Congratulations." 

"Thank you, peach. So, are you joining me for drinks, or will you be shoving your mouth with dairy all night?" Axel teased, prompting a laugh from me as I adjusted my position on the couch. 

"And you say I'm the witch." Pausing briefly to enjoy another bite of ice cream, "I quit my job, Axel," I said, the words hanging in the air. 

Axel let out a shocked gasp. "Finally? I've been telling you forever to do that. What made you finally take the leap?"

"He touched me," I replied, my voice filled with a mix of anger and relief.

"That bastard. How dare he?" Axel's voice was filled with righteous anger.

"Well, luckily, that's over now. It's just that I'm jobless," I sighed.

"You'll find another job soon, I know it," Axel assured me softly.

"So, that means no drinks?" He asked, a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

"Nope. I want to sulk with my ice cream,"  

He chuckled. "Sure, take your time."

I pouted sadly. "Why are you laughing?"

"Are you pouting?" Axel asked, trying to stifle his laughter. He was clearly enjoying making fun of me. "Sorry, peach. Good night, love you." 

"Right. Good night, love you too," I  replied. 

As soon as I hung up, I dropped my phone on the sofa before walking to the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine. 

Sulking isn't complete without ice cream and wine. 

As I opened the cupboard above my head, I retrieved a bottle of red wine and placed it on the kitchen island. I also grabbed a glass and added some ice cubes before making my way back to the living room. 

The wine coated my tongue, and I savored its sweetness with a moan of pleasure. The soft and sweet red wine perfectly complemented the ice cream. 

After a few minutes, I heard a gentle knock on my door. Yawning, I glanced at the clock on the wall—it was 9:34 PM in the evening. 

Who could that be at this hour? Axel? Felicity? Emilia? 

Slowly making my way to the door, I turned the knob and pushed it open. My eyes met with a tall man wearing an ash-colored turtleneck shirt and long black pants. He stared back at me as if I were his long-lost sister. 

It was none other than Riccardo Torrance, the famous architect. 

I tilted my head questioningly, waiting for him to say something, but his gaze remained fixed on me. 

After a few seconds, he finally spoke, his voice as familiar as ever. "May I come in?" He finally spoke after a few seconds, his voice resonating like the familiar sound I hear on TV - deep yet gentle. 

It sent a shiver down my spine, almost causing me to moan involuntarily. Almost. 

Why does he want to come in? 

This thought lingered in my mind as I mustered the courage to respond, "No." 

He let out a small chuckle, seemingly amused by my resistance. "Why not, Olivia?" 

I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. How does he know my name? 

"You know my name? How?" I asked, my curiosity mixed with a tinge of fear. 

"I have my ways," he smirked, his intense gaze locked onto mine. "So, may I come in?" 

The request felt unnerving, and I couldn't shake off the creépy vibes. 

"No, you may not." Despite my firm response, he disregarded my wishes and gently pushed past me, entering my living room. 

I turned to face him, folding my hands, only to be met with his back as he surveyed the room. 

"You're aware that you're tréspassing, right? If you don't leave my house immediately, I could call the pólice on you," I assert firmly.

"Trespàssing?" He turns towards me, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "I beg to differ."

Confused, I inquire, "What do you mean?"

With a dismissive gesture, he interrupts me. "This building complex is actually mine, Olivia. I am the owner."

I'm taken aback by his audacious claim. That can't be true. Before I can respond, he raises his hand, silencing me. 

Frustration wells up inside me as he casually makes himself comfortable on my sofa, crossing his legs and placing his hands in his pockets. 

Despite myself, I can't help but notice his undeniable charm, though I refuse to admit it.

Ignoring my disbelief, he continues, "I have a proposition for you."

What could he possibly want to offer me? Why didn't he offer it earlier in the evening? Who offers someone something in the middle of the night? 

As I rolled my eyes in frustration, they landed on the TV, and I groaned, realizing I had missed half of the show because of him. "What?" I asked. 

"Marry me."

TBC 📖✍️
Woah! Slow down, Riccardo. 

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