3. Chapter Aria
M an, Sophia wasn’t underestimating how handsome this man is. His emerald eyes are the first thing that draws me in, holding me captive with such a mysterious, intense gaze that pierces my soul. His skin is this deep olive color, and he has this seductive smile that makes him look like a Greek god. It's ridiculous. His dark, shiny hair is styled back, not one strand out of place, and the navy blue suit fits perfectly in all the right places, embracing his broad shoulders and thick thighs. He’s really tall too, six-foot-five, if I had to guess. Even with my four-inch heels, he towers over me. I understand when people say there’s something different about him. He emanates so much power and confidence as if he could destroy you by simply snapping his fingers .
He gestures toward one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Please, take a seat.”
As I do, I cross my legs and drop my purse on the chair next to me. I was feeling pretty confident while putting my makeup on this morning, plastering the same old red lipstick that brings me courage when I’m uncertain about something. Now that I’m here, in front of this man that I’ve heard so many things about, my resolve is crumbling quicker than I expected.
He sits back down and leans back in the chair, locking his intense gaze on me, causing goosebumps all over my arms as I internally pat myself on the back for putting a long sleeve on.
The last thing I want to show is weakness.
“I've heard great things about you, Ms. Petrov. It's not often that someone impresses me. You've achieved remarkable things as a curator. I mean, a twenty-five year old senior curator from one of the top galleries of the city, that’s not something you ever see in this line of business.”
The compliment makes me want to crawl out of my own skin. Accepting compliments is not my forte, especially when it has to do with my job. But this has been my life ever since people learned how quickly I climbed the professional ladder, and it still makes me uncomfortable to this day.
I nod with the nicest smile I can muster. “I just enjoy what I do, and it shows through my work.” The passion I have for creating art makes me really good at discovering and showcasing other people's work. Not that I’d ever admit that.
A small smile flickers across his face as he nods. “Let me get straight to the point.”
Okay, then. They weren’t joking when they said he was all about business.
Assertively, he adjusts himself in his seat, resting his elbows on the desk and clasping his hands together. “I want you on my team, but I still need to ensure you’re the right fit for the job.”
Amusement takes hold of me, and a laugh slips out involuntarily. Really, the audacity of this man, speaking as if I was the one that arranged the meeting. I was minding my own business working at The Institute. He’s the one that reached out.
Arching an eyebrow, I say, “You mean I need to make sure you’re the right fit for me.” I straighten my back, sitting on the edge of the seat as I grab a strand of my perfectly straightened hair that takes hours a week to achieve and place it behind my ear. “Like you said, Mr. Romano, I'm very good at what I do, and I'm not actively seeking a change. However, when I heard that the renowned businessman Damian Romano wanted to meet with me, I was intrigued.”
My heart sits at the corner of my ribcage, beating so fast, it wants to come out of my body. This isn’t me. I’m not the bold type. But there’s just something about him that makes me want to take up on the challenge, even if I fail miserably.
His eyebrows shoot up in amusement, nodding as he traces his tongue over his lips, leaving behind a shimmer of moisture. My eyes follow the movement, and linger there for a moment. Wow, even his lips are perfect. It’s unfair, really.
“You've undoubtedly heard things about me,” he replies, his voice laced with confidence and a hint of cockiness. “I excel in what I do, and when I want something, I take it without hesitation. No questions asked.”
No surprises there. He’s nothing but all smiles and cockiness, probably thinking it’s endearing, a way to put people in their place. Me, on the other hand? I’m finding it quite annoying.
“So I’ve heard,” I drawl.
He meets my gaze with glimmering resolve. “I know The Institute must impose numerous rules and limitations on your work.”
True.
“I've been in this business long enough to understand that. I'm willing to offer you full creative control because, truth be told, I want to elevate The Romano Gallery to the next level. I want our name to resonate across the world.”
I observe him intently, a faint smirk playing on my lips. Sophia always says I have the talent to read people like a wide open book, and I guess she’s right, because right now I can easily gauge his intentions. He’s a man that’s used to people doing his bidding. It’s amusing, really. But I guess you don’t get to the pinnacle of success without strategizing and using people to gain an advantage.
“Your portfolio speaks for itself, Ms. Petrov,” he continues. “Your exceptional eye for art and dedication to promoting emerging talents are precisely what I need to take this establishment to the next level. Am I impressing you yet?” he asks, with a smirk.
Tilting my head softly, I ask, “What makes you think this is what I want?”
“I can tell.” Leaning back in his chair again and crossing one leg over the other, he plasters a smug grin on his face. “Call it a business instinct, if you will.”
Yeah, the stories were true, alright. Don’t believe what social media says my ass. I can’t wait to tell Sophia how fucking wrong she was.
My next question is veiled, but just clear enough. “Is there any truth to the rumors people talk about?”
A hint of amusement flickers in his eyes as he shrugs nonchalantly. “There’s no denying I’m good at what I do. I’ve made tough decisions and taken bold actions in the past, but that’s part of doing business with me. And that’s all you need to know for now.”
I nod in understanding, trying my best to conceal my curiosity. He’s like a mystery painting, one I just want to look at and study piece by piece. It takes a lot to be a confident person, and it takes even more to be whatever this is.
Cocky, arrogant, and smug. That’s all he is.
“I am curious, though. If you're saying you're not seeking a change, then why are you here?” he asks.
Mustering the little confidence I have left, I stand up and place both hands on his desk and lean closer. His scent envelops me, strong and woody, but not overpowering. There’s something so warm about it I can’t quite place. There’s also something so earthy and primal about it, making my insides ignite with fire.
My words are icy cold, with a hint of resolve. “I wanted to see if I was up for the challenge,” I say, my voice a sultry whisper. Then, I add, “But you're just an arrogant dick, and I don't work for people like that.”
With those words, I pick up my purse and walk out of his office.
Leaving Damian Romano’s office, I'm a swirling mix of annoyance and anger.
What an arrogant, smug, good-looking asshole.
The gallery doors swing open, and I step out into the bustling cityscape. The Romano Gallery is located in the heart of downtown, surrounded by towering buildings that cast shadows on the busy streets. The air is thick with the scent of street food mixed with exhaust fumes, a chaotic combination of urban life.
Seeing him in person for the first time was like time stood still. I'd seen his photos in countless magazines as one of the city's top bachelors, but this was different. His presence was commanding, and the room seemed to revolve around him. The man was stupidly handsome, no doubt about that. Despite his good looks, he possesses a multitude of traits, though not in a favorable manner. I have no intention of working for someone like that. He can’t just flash that seductive smile and expect me to bend over and do his bidding.
Fat fucking chance.
As I'm leaving the gallery, his assistant stops me. “Are you alright?” she asks, her tone laced with a hint of concern
“Your boss is just so…” I falter for a moment, trying to find the right words.
“Cocky?” she replies. “Yeah, I know.”
We share a laugh for a moment, and I decide that this girl is a saint, dealing with a guy like that.
She shrugs. “I've grown to like him. He's often misunderstood, but to be fair, the dude always has something stuck up his ass with how serious he is all the time. ”
Another laugh escapes me. I don’t know about being misunderstood. I think some people are just plain assholes, him being one of them.
She extends her hand, introducing herself. “I'm Isabella, by the way.”
I shake her hand and reply, “I'm Aria.”
“Yeah, I know. You're big in the industry. I think everyone knows who you are.”
I shake my head. “Nah, I'm just a girl with a passion for art.”
“We need that here,” she replies quietly with an expectant smile.
“Well, I can't work for an arrogant dick, so unfortunately, I won't be working here.”
As I turn to leave, a deep velvety voice from behind me interrupts, “Arrogant dick, huh? You've said that twice already.”
I turn around, and there's Damian Romano, hands in his pockets, looking way too handsome for his own good.
“If the shoe fits,” I reply sarcastically, forcing a fake smile.
He ignores my comment like I’m just a fly on the wall and turns to Isabella, and boy does that rub me the wrong way. “Don't think I didn't hear you agree with her.”
Isabella rolls her eyes, waving her hand dismissively and tells him about his upcoming meeting before walking back inside the gallery.
Damian approaches me, and as he gets closer, I’m hit with that stupid good-smelling cedarwood clean scent. It dizzies me for a moment, my knees buckling involuntary. I take a step back to regain my composure and maintain a significant distance between us.
With a knowing smirk, he speaks, “Listen... Let's try again, okay? Over dinner.”
You’ve gotta be kidding me.
Tilting my chin up slightly, I shake my head firmly. “Your assistant just confirmed you're a pain in the ass to work for. Hard pass.”
I turn to walk away, but his strong hand gently grips my upper arm. The touch is electrifying, burning me in the best way possible.
“I can confirm I'm a pain in the ass, but it's never for bad reasons,” he says, his tone sincere. “I won't take no for an answer.”
I stand my ground, freeing my arm from his hold, and continue to walk on the busy city sidewalk. “Well, you can keep trying, but it's still going to be a no.”
Once I’m a few blocks away from the gallery, I grab my phone from my purse and FaceTime Sophia.
When she answers, she has that post-sex look with glassy eyes and messy hair.
“Oh my fucking God, Sophia. Were you just fucking!?” I half-shout in a whisper .
She grins mischievously. “Girl, no. Finished like twenty minutes ago, though.”
“Okay, can you kick him out so I can meet you at your apartment? I'm in desperate need of girl talk.”
“Please. You know I kicked his ass to the curb as soon as we were done.” She laughs. “I'll wait for you here.”
We hang up, and I head to the grocery store, picking up some good wine and cheese before meeting her at the apartment.
When she opens the door, I groan dramatically and throw myself into her arms. “Ew, you reek of sex,” I tease.
She pushes me off and steps back, letting me in. “Fucking liar. I already showered.”
I roll my eyes as I walk to her kitchen, opening one of the cabinets and grabbing two wine glasses and a corkscrew. Jumping on the couch, I place the bottle of wine and corkscrew and glasses on the coffee table, then take my heels off to get comfortable. “Today sucked.”
“Was the meeting that bad?”
“He was an asshole, Sophia. So cocky with his arrogant good looks.”
She raises an eyebrow while reaching for the bottle and corkscrew, opening the grape fruity goodness. “Good looks, huh?”
I admit, “He was hot, okay? Even better looking in person, but I refuse to work for him. His personality sucks. ”
She snickers at my comment as she serves us a hefty amount of wine in each glass then hands me one. I grab it and gulp it down, brushing my lips with the back of my hand as I hand it back to her to top it off again. Wine just takes the edge off, you know?
“Girl, slow down, it’s barely dinner time,” she jokes, pouring me another glass. “Was he really that much of a dick?”
I swirl the purple liquid, contemplating my words for a moment. “He was just so smug with his smirking and cockiness and his ‘I’m better than you’ attitude.”
Sophia takes a sip of wine and lays back on the couch, chuckling. “Sounds hot.”
Patting her shoulder jokingly, I say, “Your opinion doesn’t count; you have questionable taste in men, remember?”
She laughs dryly. “You think you’re so funny,” She places both of her legs underneath her, sitting comfortably and facing me. “But seriously, the money’s good. You should still take it and ignore him.”
“Plus, he offered me full creative control,” I confess with a tired sigh.
Her excitement spikes. “Seriously!? That’s amazing! So, definitely a yes, right?”
I shake my head, slumping my shoulders. “I can't. The money and control don't make up for the fact that he's clearly difficult to work with.”
Or the fact that even though he was a complete dick, I found him interesting, like a mystery I wanted to solve.
“Okay, so just be a bigger person. Accept the job, be professional, and set your boundaries. He'll get the hint eventually,” she points out.
I bite my lip, contemplating. He mentioned that he knows he is not easy to work with, so he is somewhat self-aware. How bad could it really be?
“Maybe,” I say, still not entirely convinced.
I glance at the clock, and it’s already six. We’ve just been chilling on her couch, drinking some wine and watching some Friends reruns. It’s my favorite thing to do every time my head is in overthinking mode. A good Chandler Bing joke is the best way to relax.
I get up from the couch, putting my heels back on. “I have to go. I have dinner with Alex.”
Sophia rolls her eyes. “Just ditch him.”
I let out a laugh. “You and Alex had one crazy night years ago. Let it go .” I blow Sophia a kiss before walking out of her apartment.
Arriving at Lorenzo’s, our restaurant of choice, Alex is sitting at our usual table .
“Sorry I’m late! I was with Sophia and lost track of time.”
Alex gets up while laughing, giving me a hug. “I assumed you were with her. How is she these days?”
“Still hating your guts,” I quip, sitting down.
“Oh my, I better pay her a visit soon then.” He winks. “How’ve you been?”
I pick up a piece of bread and lather it with the delicious garlic butter before replying, “Good. I have so much to tell you.”
I proceed to tell him about the meeting, and how I turned down the job offer.
He nods and sighs. “I’m not surprised. Damian sure is a piece of work.”
The way he talks about Damian has me wondering. “Wait, do you know him?”
He nods. “I worked for his father as an assistant when I turned sixteen, when that gallery was still a mom-and-pop. When his father died and Damian inherited the business, he fired me,” he says with a hint of annoyance and something else I can’t identify.
I frown. “How come you never told me?”
He shrugs. “It was a long time ago. I never thought it was important,” he replies quickly, grabbing my hand and squeezing it softly. “You can’t work for him, Aria. It’s a bad idea. ”
“I don’t plan to.” Turning down a job where you get to have full creative control in this industry is nuts. I’m surely losing my head, but I think I'd rather keep my sanity.
“If there’s one thing I know about him, he’s a persistent motherfucker, so you need to stay strong.” He gives me a pointed look, his tone deadly serious.
Okay, then. Someone definitely hates Damian Romano, and out of all people, I didn’t expect it to be Alex.
I will stay strong, though. I don’t need him, after all. He’s the one that needs me.