Page 15 of Broken Pieces
“This is what you wanted. Now, please work for me,” I say in a pleading tone.
Her eyes sparkle with amusement as I gulp down my pride. She looks at me for a seemingly extended momentbefore bursting into laughter, loud and unrestrained. Confused, I watch as she struggles for breath between fits of giggles.
I eventually get back to my feet, annoyed. “Were you joking?”
She keeps laughing, unable to answer my question.
“You're fucking ridiculous,” I say annoyed, sitting back down.
She wipes her teary eyes with a napkin. “Oh, that was so worth it.”
“Good to know my misery is your happiness. But now, pay up.”
Still laughing, she extends her hand. “Okay, let's shake on it. I'm still going to need that triple salary, though.”
I shake my head and laugh before shaking her hand. Now that she's working for me, I know it’s going to be anythingbutordinary.
What did I get myself into?
That's my first thought as I walk into my new place of employment—The Romano Gallery.Ugh. The guy is so obsessed with himself that he even named it after his last name. Has a nice ring to it, veryItalian,but still.
Walking into the gallery, I take a moment to appreciate the space. The gallery has off-white painted walls so the collections can stand out. With high ceiling windows that offer natural light, giving the space a sense of peace and comfort.
Walking all the way to the back, there's a set of stairs leading to the office space. As I climb the stairs and reach the second floor,Isabella welcomes me with a bright smile. “Good morning, Ms. Petrov.”
“Please, call me Aria. I have a feeling we will become the best of friends,” I say, winking as I place a coffee in front of her. “I didn't know how you take your coffee, so I brought you a vanilla latte. Hope you like it,” I add with a smile.
Isabella laughs. “Vanilla latte is fine. I prefer it with extra caramel drizzle because I'm a sugar addict.”
“That's exactly how I take mine!” I point out. Chit-chatting with Isabella, an annoying presence approaches my peripheral vision. Turning to see where it's coming from, Damian emerges from his office.
Figures.
I suddenly feel hot, that man has a talent of bringing the temperature in a room up a few degrees with his presence.
“No coffee for me?” he asks, leaning against his office door frame, arms crossed.
There’s something about a guy leaning against a door frame that just makes me have not-so-innocent thoughts. But Damian? With his tall, commanding presence? It’s something out of this world.
Feeling flustered at the sight of him, I decide to ignore him. Just because we work together doesn't mean I have to engage with the good-looking asshole.
Seriously, Aria. Is it really necessary to always add the good-lookingpart?
He continues with his taunting. “I like my coffee black, one sugar. You know, for future reference, darling.”
I swear, he enjoys riling me up.
“Gee, how surprising. Your coffee order is as dry as your personality. Congratulations,” I retort.
He has this professional ability to make me lose my cool around him, and I’ve become even better at witty comebacks. Our dynamic is odd, but it works in a strange, fucked up way.
Turning to Isabella, I say, “Listen, my best friend Sophia and I are going out next weekend. You should totally come!”
Isabella's eyes gleam as she responds, “Maybe. Thanks for the invite.”
I nod as my attention is drawn back to him and his impeccable put together looks, which is nothing out of the ordinary. Today, he is wearing a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
He looksgood. With his muscular arms, tanned skin that I would just love to lick and—No.Move on.He’s your boss. What the hell is the matter with you?
