Page 16 of Broken Pieces
I observe him up and down, unable to resist a sardonic comment. “I see we ditched the three-piece suit today.”
With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he replies, “Impressive attention to detail, noticing my choice of attire.”
I raise an eyebrow at Damian's response, unable to resist yet another witty comeback. “Didn't know you were so observant aboutmyobservations,” I quip.
With a teasing smile playing on his lips he says, “Touché.”
I lock my gaze on his in a silent challenge and take a sip of my coffee, savoring the delicious caramelized goodness.
He continues with a smile, shrugging nonchalantly, “I don't have any meetings today. I cleared my schedule just for you, darling.”
There he goes again with that stupid fucking nickname.
Damian has a smile that can bring any woman to their knees. I wonder how often they fall for his trap? With that bright smile and those emerald eyes that seem to pierce your soul, any woman would be done for. It’s extremely frustrating. He’s one of the city’s top bachelors for a reason, because the man is strikingly beautiful in a raw uncensored way. The worst part about this is that I’m no different from those women, because he makes me feel a weird attraction I rather not entertain. How can this single man annoy me and make me attracted to him at the same time? That’s some impressive talent.
Ignoring the flutter in my chest, I reply sarcastically, “Oh, how lucky am I to have your undivided attention for the day, Mr. Romano.”
“Call me Damian.” He winks.
“I’d rather not,” I retort. I curse internally, because he definitely won this round with his natural talent of getting under my skin.
Isabella, looking flustered, mumbles, “God help me.” She stands up and says, “Aria, how about I walk you to your office?”
“That'd be per—”
“No need, I'll take her,” Damian interrupts, walking toward me. “Shall we?” He tilts his head in the direction of what I assume is my new office.
“Sure,” I respond dryly, fully aware that it's going to be a very long day.
As Damian walks in front of me, my eyes linger, admiring his physique. He has broad shoulders, and the shirt hugs his toned back muscles. Also—I can’t believe I’m going to say this—but he has a fucking nice ass too. He’s too hot for his own good, and on top of it, he has a nice ass?Pft. It’s outrageous.
Entering my office, it's a simple and spacious room with large windows that provide a view of Lake Michigan with an L-shaped white desk, and a gray office chair. At the center of the desk, there’s a brand new tablet, box unopened, and an arrangement of wildflowers. The place is cute and simple.
Damian turns to me and says, “Hope you like it.”
I smile as I reply, “Better than what I had at The Institute for sure.”
“Wow, you are capable of smiling. I really thought it was impossible,” he jokes.
As I look around the office, I quip, “Only with you.” Walking toward the desk, I slightly bend and smell the flowers. They have a slight citrus smell, mixed with rose. They smell delicious. I love wildflowers. They are so colorful and carefree. Sometimes I wish I was one. “Thanks for the flowers. They are beautiful.”
Damian pats his chest twice dramatically, rubbing his hand in circles over his heart. “And here I was, already thinking I could get used to seeing that beautiful smile more often,” he says with a wink, and my cheeks heat at the compliment.
I’m just thankful he can’t see my face right now because I can positively say I look like a bright, red tomato. I throw a fake cough, suddenly becoming extremely interested in the lake before me.
“And the flowers, well, I just thought of you when I saw them at the market the other day.”
I turn around, raising my eyebrows. His eyes linger on mine for a beat before he breaks eye contact and looks the other way, almost like he’s… flustered.
No. It can’t be.
I don’t even know how to unpack what he just said. The fact that he casually went to themarketand that he thought of me when he saw some flowers just makes something stir within me. No one has ever bought meflowers just because they thought of me. Well, I don’t think anyone has ever bought me flowers, like ever.
He’s just being nice. You’re reading too much into it.
Maybe I am being delusional. He’s trying to make this arrangement work, that’s all. But he just does something to me, the way his eyes linger when he thinks I don’t notice, or the way he calls me darling with that hearty voice of his. The man’s smooth.
That man is your boss. Get it together.
