6. Chapter Damian
A ria looks absolutely stunning, her signature red lips having a way of invading my mind with impure thoughts I should definitely not be having about my potential employee. As she walks past me, her scent invades my nostrils. It smells like some fruity shit—strawberries, maybe? Not sure, but all I know is that it’s quickly becoming my favorite scent.
To avoid the hassle of driving on a busy Friday evening in Chicago, I have my driver take us to the restaurant. The drive is uneventful, and it's clear she isn't thrilled to be here. However, she’s a necessary piece of my business plans, so I’ll grovel if I have to. Sometimes we have to take necessary risks for a high reward. The business needs to do well .
Are you sure it’s just the business? Are you sure you’re not just infatuated with the woman?
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 said entitlement . 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.
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.”
Her face 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.
“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 moment before 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 anything but ordinary.