Chapter 10
DOMINIC
When Sofia calls out sick the morning after we hook up, I’m certain I’ll never see her again. Nina, my CFO’s second assistant, sits at her desk when I arrive, spine straight, hands folded in front of her like she’s waiting for permission to move.
“Ms. Bellini emailed a little while ago,” she says before I can ask. “She’s not feeling well, but should be back tomorrow. Monday at the latest. Miss Turner asked me to cover her desk today.”
I nod and head into my office without a word. She rises and follows me timidly.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” she asks in a quiet voice.
“Forward me Sofia’s email,” I tell her.
“Of course, sir,” she says dutifully.
She lingers in the doorway, uncertain, like she’s waiting for another order. I’m sure she’s good at her job, but she and I have never worked together, and she’s frozen stiff. Sofia wouldn’t need me to tell her what comes next. Nina needs direction.
“Move anything nonessential off my calendar today,” I say. “That’ll be all.”
She nods and scurries off back to Sofia’s desk. I poke my head out, watch her for a second, and sigh. Sofia should be here. I doubt she’s sick. She’s just avoiding me. Unfortunately, I can’t legally make her come in, and I can’t make her talk to me.
So I sit behind my desk and start working through the mountain of work piled there.
Nina cancels meetings. Rafe comes and goes throughout the day.
I put out fires. I sit through meetings.
The whole day passes in a blur. I feel untethered without her at my side, managing my schedule. I can’t work like this forever.
The next morning, I half-expect to see Nina again, but Sofia’s desk is empty. I don’t know what that means. What if she’s quit? No, that email would’ve come straight to my phone. Robert in HR would have probably called me directly.
I’m still turning over the possibilities when I hear footsteps behind me. I turn to see Sofia walking in, and the relief nearly knocks me over.
“Sofia,” I say in what I hope is a normal voice.
“Good morning, Mr. Vieri,” she says in a professional tone.
I can see the wall she’s built between us, and I have no choice but to respect it. At least she hasn’t quit. That’s one small miracle to be grateful for.
“I’m sorry for calling out sick yesterday,” she says, voice bright. It’s false, too cheerful, pitched for the whole office to hear. “I had the worst migraine. Thankfully it’s all better today, and Nina already caught me up on your schedule changes.”
I nod. “Thank you, Ms. Bellini,” I say.
I can fight fire with fire. Or, I guess in this case, ice with ice.
My mood is somehow even worse than yesterday. Even though Sofia is physically here, the distance between us couldn’t be wider. I understand why she feels the need to do it, but it still hurts. And that is not a feeling I am familiar with.
Monday arrives too soon.
“Good morning, Mr. Vieri,” Sofia calls when I step off the elevator.
She doesn’t come into my office once. If she needs me, she sends an instant message or calls me through the intercom.
She takes her lunch away from her desk, and somehow manages to be away any time I’m not in a meeting.
She’s using my schedule against me. She always knows where I’ll be and when, so she purposely makes herself scarce.
I accept it. At least for now. She needs time to get over what happened. The message is loud and clear. She’d like to pretend it never happened at all, and she wants whatever’s between us to stay as professional as possible.
It will pass.
Except, a week goes by like that. Every morning it’s “Good morning, Mr. Vieri.” Her work ethic doesn’t waver and my life still gets handled perfectly, but she somehow manages to never physically be around. Even Rafe notices by Friday.
“What the hell is going on with your assistant?” he asks. “She didn’t even give me a cursory glance when I walked by.”
“Nothing,” I lie. “She’s just busy.”
The last part isn’t a lie. The next week I hear from my C-suite that Sofia’s been helping their assistants reorganize their documents, and it’s apparently revolutionized our filing system.
The week after, she handles all the briefs for a new investor meeting, and there’s not a single error on any of the documents.
The whole office is talking about how helpful Sofia is.
Everyone loves her. Every assistant comes to her for advice now.
It’s great for her. It sucks for me. I blink and an entire month passes, and nothing goes back to normal.
Now this uncomfortable silence is our new normal, and I have no choice but to accept it.
“All right,” Rafe says one day. “Spit it out. Why the hell have you been such a grouch the last few weeks?”
“I’m fine,” I grunt.
He rolls his eyes. “You’re clearly not. You’ve been more of a prick than usual lately.”
“I’m just busy.”
Just then, my cousin Tomasso strolls into the office with a stormy look on his face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “Just more bullshit with the Calderones,” he answers. “And I’m hearing this new expansion in Vegas isn’t going to happen.”
Rafe curses under his breath, and I give Tomasso my full attention.
“What the hell do you mean?” I ask him. “I just spoke with the foreman yesterday, they’re supposed to break ground on Monday.”
He shrugs. “Apparently, there’s some union issue with the contractor. If you want, I can fly out and handle it.”
I shake my head. “No,” I tell him. “I should be the one to handle it.”
Just as I’m saying it, an idea forms. I can’t force Sofia to talk to me, but if I take her on a work trip, she’ll at least have to be in the same room with me.
“Sofia knows the ins and outs of that contract,” I say to no one in particular. “She and I will head out tonight.”
Rafe raises an eyebrow at me at the same time Tomasso shakes his head.
“Does Sofia know about this?” Rafe asks me.
“She will in ten seconds,” I tell him. “Text me if you need me this weekend. I’ll be in Vegas.”
Rafe rolls his eyes again and Tomasso just nods, looking between us like he doesn’t really understand what’s going on.
They both leave my office, and I shoot a message to Sofia since it’s the only way to get her attention lately.
Go home and pack a bag. We need to go to Vegas. Wheels up at six.
She’s in my office not thirty seconds later.
“What the hell, Dominic?” she snaps.
“Oh, so it’s Dominic, now?” I ask her.
She narrows her eyes at me. “We’ve never discussed anything about work trips,” she says darkly. “You can’t expect me to just pack up and go at your whim.”
I sigh and motion for her to sit down. She crosses her arms, but doesn’t budge.
“This isn’t something I would normally ask of you,” I tell her honestly. “The Francelo deal is going to fall through because of some sort of union dispute. You handled all that paperwork. I need you.”
“Fine,” she answers tersely. “Then I’ll go on my own. There’s no reason you should have to go too.”
“I have to go because they’re going to need my signature on the amended paperwork,” I point out.
“You could always e-sign,” she argues.
“Sofia,” I groan. “We have to get past this. I swear on my nonna’s grave that I’m not trying to seduce you by flying you on a private jet to Vegas. I need you to help close this deal for me. I’ll even give you a few days off after the trip to make up for it.”
Her arms are still crossed, but her shoulders relax a little.
“How long are we going to be gone?” she asks. “Do I need to have someone water my plants?”
I can’t help but laugh. Even when she’s pissed at me, she still maintains that dry humor of hers.
“It should only take a day or two. Besides, you’ll love Vegas.”
She looks me up and down. “I very much doubt that,” she huffs before turning on her heel and marching out.
Thankfully, her anger doesn’t stop her from leaving with me a few hours later. We take a town car to a private airport in Jersey, and I try not to feel smug when her jaw drops at the sight of my jet.
“Ever been on one?” I ask her casually.
She shoots me a look that says I should know she hasn’t, and I smile.
“Come on,” I tell her.
Never one to give me what I want, she doesn’t react much to the interior of the jet. Not the Italian leather seats or the champagne waiting for us. In fact, she raises her eyebrows at that, and I have to raise my hands in surrender.
“Standard on all of our flights,” I tell her. “I swear to God I’m not pulling out the stops just for you.”
She hums to herself and drops into one of the seats, scooting around to get comfortable.
“It’s nice, I guess.” She shrugs. “But I won’t be drinking the champagne. I need to keep a clear head.”
I take the barb for what it is. She’s clearly still angry that we slept together, but it’s not like I planned for it to happen or forced the issue.
I was just as taken aback as she was. Maybe this weekend gives us a chance to air out our grievances.
Then again, judging by the way she glares at me when I sit down across from her, maybe not.
The flight attendant comes to check on us, then the pilot announces takeoff. She grips the arms of her chair as the plane starts to taxi, her knuckles turning white.
“Not a flyer?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “I’m here for work, and nothing more. Let’s just get the contracts sorted out. We don’t have to talk.”
The plane starts to ascend, and she clutches the chair even harder. I wish we were in a place where I could crack a joke, or even comfort her. Part of me thinks we’ll never get back to that place. So I put in my earbuds and brace for what will probably be a disaster of a weekend.
When she’s not looking, I sneak a peek. After a month of barely seeing her, it feels like my first meal in days.
I’ve missed her, I realize. I’ve missed our closeness, the knowledge that she’s always right there when I need her.
I’ve missed our banter, flirty just beneath the surface. I’ve missed having her around.
When the plane finally levels out, she looks up with wide eyes and clutches her stomach.
“I don’t think my body is meant to be in the air,” she groans.
“There’s a bathroom just there,” I say, pointing behind her.
She nods, quickly unfastens her seatbelt, and rushes to the bathroom. I watch her go and can’t help wondering if she’s really sick or just wanted to get away from me.