Page 14 of Broken Pieces
Another waiter arrives with our wine, this time a woman, introducing herself as our new server. Aria glances at me, raising an eyebrow, and I simply shrug in response. We glance at the menu quietly for a moment, then the waiter takes our order promptly. Once the waiter leaves, I take the opportunity to get down to business.
Frankly, I’m genuinely impressed with her work and what she’s done for The Institute. Having her on the team is a necessity. Does it worry me how we’ll work together? Not in the slightest. I’ll be the boss. She’s just going to be another regular employee—or so I keep saying.
It has to be that way. There’s no other option. There’s too much riding on this. Don’t fuck it up by obsessing over a woman who doesn’t even like you.
“I have a proposition for you,” I say, taking a sip of wine.
Aria is in the middle of taking a sip as well, and her gaze shifts to me, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“Work for me for three months,” I continue. “Let's do a trial run, and then you can decide if you want to work for me permanently or return to The Institute.”
“The Institute won't just hold my job for three months, Romano,” she retorts.
“They will. I have my ways,”I assure her, catching her attention. “Don't worry about it,” I add with a playful wink.
She stares at me for a moment, clearly contemplating it. “No,” she says and takes another sip of her wine.
My face remains enigmatic, but frustration is slowly building. She sure knows how to bruise a man’s ego. I’ve sent her various offers almost daily, and she’s still ignoring my emails. I’ve followed this woman to her favorite coffee shop, for God’s sake. I'm Damian fucking Romano, a man who doesn't take no for an answer. I’ll just have to put more pressure.
She will say yes. Relax. This is nothing you can’t handle.
“We'll cover your living expenses,” I offer.
“Pass.”
“You can work part-time, same salary,” I counter.
“No.”
“I'll triple the original offer,” I say in a last-ditch effort.
She raises an eyebrow. “Isn't that a little desperate coming from you, Mr. Billionaire?”
Oh, gee. I got a nickname now. Hilarious.
“Mr. Billionaire, seriously? You couldn’t come up with something better?”
She glares at me without commenting.
“I'm beyond desperate at this point. I don't know what else you want from me, Aria,” I admit. “Do you want me to get on my knees and beg you? Because I will.”
Herface lights up with a mischievous grin. “Okay, then beg,” she challenges.
Wait. What?
I look at her dumbfounded.
“If you want me to work for you, you'll have to beg,” she states with a knowing smirk.
I clench my fists, my knuckles white from the force. The audacity of this woman. It was a simple figure of speech. I didn’t mean it. I was just trying to express how serious I am about this situation. “You can't be serious,” I respond dryly.
She shrugs, crossing one leg, patiently waiting.
Okay, then. I guess we’re doing this.
If there’s one woman in the world that can make me beg, it’s probably her. With her flirtatious smile, bright hazel eyes, and long soft legs that I would just get in between them and drown—No.I’m not even going to finish that thought.
I get up from my chair and walk over to stand in front of her, glancing around to ensure no one is watching. I drop to one knee, feeling ridiculous, like I'm about to propose. My fingers softly graze her thigh as I grab her hand, her composure stiffening.
