Page 13 of Broken Pieces
No. It’s strictly business.It has to be.
Exiting the car, she remarks, “Nice restaurant.”
I've chosen one of the city's finest Italian restaurants on purpose, hoping some good food and wine will soften her up just a little. I’m not above doing sneaky things and flaunting my money to get what I want. Desperate times, desperate measures.
“I know. It's my favorite,” I reply with a wink.
As we enter the restaurant, the hostess promptly seats us upon recognizing me. Sometimes, the perks of being one of the city's top billionaires comes in handy.
“No wonder you’re so smug,” Aria whispers.
“I heard that,” I say as I peruse the wine menu, stealing a glance toward her.
God, it’s stupid how beautiful this woman is.
“Good,” she replies, a playful glimmer dancing in her eyes.
Setting the menu aside, I lean on the table. “I'm not going to apologize for receiving special treatment, Aria. It comes with the territory, people knowing who I am. What can I say?” I shrug. I never said I wanted this attention, it was kind of a package deal. Does it have its perks? Yes. Could I live without it? Also yes.
“The issue isn't the special treatment, Romano. It's your sense of entitlement. You're used to people doing your bidding,” she points out.
“I see we've progressed from Mr. Romano; that's a step forward,” I remark, dismissing her comment and returning to the wine menu.
She isn't entirely wrong about my overconfidence, but it's a facade I've learned to adapt to in the world of business. To survive, I have to play the part expected of me, and confidence is part of the package. Little do people know I have nothing but fucking insecurities coming out of my pores, thanks to my father’s handiwork.
Thank you very much for that, Father.
I’ve learned to hide those insecurities well, bottling them up inside. The feeling of utter loss, and uselessness. It’s ironic, really. I’ve climbed my way to the top but the voice on the back of my head that sounds just like my father couldn’t care less.
In a fucked up way, I’m still unworthy; too compassionate; not smart enough. I have all the money in the world, but at what cost? I’m sad; angry; lonely. I’m barely above water, almost drowning, but not there quite yet.
Will I ever be worthy of anything? Kindness; love; patience? Will I ever find someone that just fucking gets me and stays despite all of my scattered broken pieces?
These insecurities haunt me and I just keep bottling them up, hoping that they don’t explode one day. After all,business is a dangerous game and I can’t afford to show any weaknesses.
“Brushing me off won't get you what you want,” she warns, her eyes fixed on me.
I meet her gaze and say, “I fail to see the issue with being a confident person.”
“I never said confidence. I saidentitlement. Do you have selective hearing too?” She raises an eyebrow, her eyes flickering with an unspoken challenge.
Just as I'm about to respond, our waiter intervenes. He introduces himself, wearing a charming smile, and directing a sultry look at Aria that immediately gets under my skin, making me feel hot.
“We'll take a '70 Latour bottle for the table,” I order curtly, shoving the wine menu toward him.
He turns to Aria and asks with a flirtatious smile, “And for you, love?”
Oh, this idiot is looking to die tonight, I see.
“I ordered a bottle, so you do the fucking math,” I reply with a cold smile, fixing my gaze on him.
His demeanor swiftly shifts from charming to nervous, and he nods hastily before leaving our table.
“Man, you sure are a piece of work,” she mutters, irritation lacing her tone.
“Thanks,” I reply with a cheerful smile, knowing it will irk her further.
Seeing her fiery side is my favorite part of our recent interactions. Aria is nothing but a ball of pure fire who’s not afraid of a challenge, especially when it comes to me. On the other hand, though, it just makes it way easier to annoy her.
