Page 71 of Mafia King: Matteo
“Of course not. You’re not in human resources where all that is stored,” she replies as we arrive at the break room.
“I think I’m good. I have emails to go over. Has the carpet for the hallways been picked out yet?”
“I wish. The floors out there are disgusting. I mean, why can’t concrete floors be perfectly smooth? Did you see all the plaster on it from when they did the drywall? I mean, ugh.” Penny stirs milk in her now hot tea.
“Yes, not to mention that walking from the elevator must be bad for our knees and joints. What’s so difficult about picking out carpet?”
“Carpet sets the tone for the entire floor,” Sophia says as she passes by. She is wearing a Fendi dress, and her high heels are enviable. I’d break my neck over if I stood in them. She’s tall, so now, she’s towering over us. Is this her way of making us look small?
I glance at Penny. She glances down and brushes past me with her cup of lukewarm tea that she pulled out of the microwave before it dinged. I’d hate to be Sophia’s assistant. Penny is sunny and lets snide comments roll off her like water off a duck’s back.
She can handle mental cruelty. Me, not so much.
I follow them to the room where Nathan and Cindy discuss the carpet. On the table are squares of samples and some rolls of fabric. We gather around the table, and Sophia breezes into the room.
“Do you have news to share, Alena?”
“No,” I reply calmly.
“Oh, I think you do. If that stone on your finger is real, I’d say you have a fiancé.” She eyes me as she walks around the table. She’s trying to intimidate me into spilling my secret.
Now, everyone in the room is looking at me.
“Geez, that’s a rock,” Cindy says, adjusting her glasses.
“I’m not one to drool over bling, but damn, Alena, that’s got to be heavy,” Nathan chimes in.
“I’d like to keep it to myself for now,” I reply demurely.
“Fine, well, we have work to do,” Sophia states before sitting at the head of the table and fawning over carpet samples.
Whew. I dodged that bullet.
We managed to pick out the gold and red carpet. I find it ironic that it would fit an Italian’s taste and a Russian’s. This leads me to daydream about my wedding.
I wonder when Matteo’s meeting is and hope that I’ll be able to have my best friend as my maid of honor. I never considered the possibility that I might have to choose between my father and my best friend. I do not intend to speak to my father, which complicates the formal wedding.
Is it possible to get married without my parents being present? Who will give me away? I’m sure Alexsei or Kirill, if I asked.
I’m in the break room, hitting the button on the vending machine and waiting for a bag of chips to fall off the hook, when my phone beeps. The bag takes forever, then drops. I quickly retrieve it and pull my phone out of my jeans. It’s casual Friday at the office, and for once, I’m glad I didn’t have to fuss over what I would wear.
I lift my phone and am disappointed when it’s Izzy, not Matteo.
I open my chips and read her text.
How are you? And did Matteo give you a ring? I forgot to ask
It’s a brilliant yellow diamond that wasn’t made in a lab.
How would you know?
Co-worker, but I’m still mum on the lucky man.
Good call. I know you’re probably nervous.
Shouldn’t I be nervous?
It’s normal to be nervous about weddings. Do you have a date?
