Chapter 34
SAbrINA
Icouldn’t prove it, but I was certain Sebastian was a villainous puppet master pulling the strings of my life behind the scenes these last few weeks.
“Buongiorno, bella. Have you found yourself an apartment yet?"
“Buongiorno, Sebastian. Not yet. I’m still looking.”
It had become our morning routine these last two weeks.
Each morning, I woke up determined to wear my own clothes.
And each morning, I gave in and wore one of the beautiful designer outfits Sebastian had purchased for me.
Today’s outfit was a Giorgio Armani Milano Stitch Midi Dress in midnight black, paired with a luxurious Valentino gray-and-white wild-print coat.
Although my ideas had won over Florian and his team, as well as the marketing department, whispers and glares from the rest of the staff persisted.
To them, I was nothing more than gossip fodder.
Never mind. I was determined to win them all over. In time.
Until then, I had a bigger battle on my hands.
Sebastian Diamanti.
Every morning, I put on my armor and faced him in the hall of the palazzo for our ride to work.
Every morning, he was annoyingly polite and charming—an absolute gentleman.
Every morning, he found subtle ways to touch me: a caress of his hand against my neck as he helped me with my coat, a touch of his fingers along the sensitive skin of my wrist as he guided me into the car, a brush of his shoulder as we stood side by side in his private elevator.
All perfectly innocent.
All easily explained away.
All torturous.
There were days I wanted to scream, Just fucking kiss me already!
Days when I wished he’d say, Screw being strictly professional, and push me against a wall, yank up my skirt, and fuck me until I screamed.
Which was why I needed to get away.
From him.
From his home.
I loved my new job. More than I thought possible.
My trial month was already half over, and I couldn’t wait to extend it.
The only sore spot was my increasingly detailed lies to my mother.
I hoped that once I’d settled into my own apartment, I could convince her to visit Rome and fall in love with the city’s dangerous, raw beauty as I had.
But there was my primary problem: finding an apartment.
Every time I thought I’d secured one, I’d get an email saying they’d either rented it to someone else or changed their mind.
I suspected Sebastian’s hand, but I couldn’t prove it.
Damn him.
So here I was, stuck in a purgatory of my own making.
This perfectly polite, strictly professional purgatory.
At least purgatory was endurable during the day.
The nights were a living hell.
I’d since learned which wall we shared between our bedrooms. I thought his bedroom was to the left, just beyond my fireplace, but it was worse.
Much worse.
Once, when I was certain Sebastian waited for me downstairs, I dared to sneak a peek into his bedroom.
It was imposing, to say the least, with a massive four-poster bed draped in deep red velvet that dominated the space. The intricate carvings on the headboard—vines and winged creatures—caught my eye, giving the room a heavy, almost menacing presence that made it impossible to look away.
But the worst part was the headboards of our beds shared a wall.
During the day, I stared at the wall between our offices, and then all night long, I got zero sleep as I stared at the wall between our beds.
At this point, I stood by the power of espresso and sugar alone.
I really needed to get out of this prison.
And it was a prison.
An achingly beautiful prison.
* * *
Florian and I were in his third-floor conference room reviewing the presentation mood boards I was putting together for the new lab-created diamond campaign.
He pointed to several of the outfits. “Who is the shoe designer?”
“Gia Borghini.”
“And the dress coat?”
“Blazé Milano.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Bold move, not going with one of the historic fashion houses of Italy.”
After laying one board down, I picked up another. “The House of Diamanti always partners with the usual suspects—Gucci, Valentino, Versace—when launching new jewelry lines or diamond marketing campaigns.”
His lips thinned. “And what is wrong with that? It is a time-honored tradition. All the fashion houses collaborate with one another for cross-marketing. We have for generations.”
I turned to face him. “That’s just my point. The lab-created diamonds are a whole new ball game.”
“A new what?”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s an American expression. My point is, why not keep the high-end luxury brands paired with the traditional natural diamonds and use up-and-coming Italian designers for the lab-created ones?”
He chewed on the temple tips of his eyeglasses as he studied the mood board.
Looking over the board at me, he asked, “And you cleared this with marketing?”
I nodded. “They love the idea. They were really impressed the designers I chose are all women, too.”
While marketing came up with the general campaign concept, it was my job as the fashion stylist to worry about the specific details of the magazine, catalog, and website photo shoots.
“What about the jewelry designers on the second floor?”
“They love it as well, and once we get final approval, they even want to rework a few of the pieces to give them a lighter, trendier look to match the designs.”
“What about the designers?”
I shrugged. “I haven’t reached out to any of them yet—but who would refuse the House of Diamanti?”
He cast me a sly smile before returning to study the mood boards.
He continued to chew on his eyeglasses. “It’s a bold move,” he murmured. “Could backfire.”
I remained silent, letting my work and ideas speak for themselves.
Finally, he put his glasses on as he leaned forward. “Well done, Sabrina.”
My shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”
He looked at the open doorway before lowering his voice. “I don’t mind telling you, I had my reservations, given your lack of experience, but I should have trusted Signore Diamanti. He obviously saw your true potential.”
I wasn’t going to do it…
I wasn’t going to belittle this moment by picking apart the reasons why Sebastian had hired me.
I would take the win.
Florian rose and, as if reading my mind, said, “Don’t take your victory lap just yet. You still have to convince Signore Diamanti.”
I rose with him and collected the mood boards.
There was still a great deal of work to do on my ideas before they would reach Sebastian’s desk. Partnership agreements with the designers. Photographers to interview. The final jewelry designs.
Florian turned at the door threshold. “Some of us are going for an aperitivo after work if you’re interested.”
My hands stilled over the mood boards.
Whether in New York, Paris, or Rome, it was all the same.
An invitation to happy hour after work meant I was being accepted into the fold.
I was becoming one of them.
After my meeting, I left his office and headed over to the small empty desk in the corner of the main floor. I’d found it a few days in and had used it as my own as often as I could.
Although incredibly chic and beautiful, I hated the office next to Sebastian’s. For one, it set me apart in a really obnoxious way from the rest of the stylist department.
And even though I hated to admit it, I found working that close to Sebastian a huge distraction.
I flipped open my laptop and prepared a spreadsheet of all the designer names and pieces I wanted to use in the upcoming shoot, then I went in search of contact information.
Tonight, while at drinks with the rest of the crew, I’d feel out who would be best to approach to help me with the contact phone calls and emails since I didn’t want to just assume all these designers spoke English.
I was so focused on my task that I didn’t notice the change in the atmosphere of the office until it was too late—when a large masculine hand slowly shut my laptop screen.
Looking past him, I realized the entire office floor had gone silent.
With his palms braced on the smooth top of the desk, he leaned down and spoke low enough for only my ears. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Working,” I whispered back, knowing full well that was not what he meant.
Straightening to his full height, he snatched my laptop off my makeshift desk as well as my mood boards and marched out of the room.
Not knowing what else to do, I followed him.
I had to practically run in my heels to catch up with his long strides.
“What are you doing?” I asked as I caught up to him at the elevators.
He kept his gaze forward until the doors opened.
Placing a hand at my lower back, he half ushered, half pushed me inside.
We rode in silence.
Crippling, tense, excruciating silence.
The moment the doors opened, Sebastian marched through the reception area, past his own office, and to my assigned one.
I winced when he slammed my laptop and boards onto the empty desktop. “Here is where you were assigned to work, and here is where I expect to find you when I want you.”
So others wouldn't hear him yelling at me, I closed the door behind me.
He shrugged out of his suit jacket and threw it over my closed computer.
He then crossed his arms over his chest. “Where is your cell phone? Why aren’t you answering it?”
I knew he recognized the outfit as one he'd bought me and had to resist the urge to tear it off my body in a fit of pique. “My phone is in my purse, which is in the desk drawer. I didn’t want it with me during the meeting with Florian.”
Truth was, I suspected Sebastian was somehow tracking me through my phone, and that was how I was losing out on all those apartment opportunities, so I’d started carrying it less and less.
He crossed to the desk and opened the drawer.
Dragging my purse out, he unzipped it.
I stepped closer. “Hey!”
With my cell phone in his hand, he glared at me. “When I call, you answer. Period.”
I snatched the phone from his grasp. “Fine.”
“Why are you working from that desk downstairs and not here?”
Because I haven’t earned an executive office yet.
Because the rest of the team is one floor down, and it’s weird.
Because I can smell your cologne and hear the murmur of your deep voice through the shared door.
With a shrug, I said, “It’s just easier.”
“From now on, if Florian needs to meet with you, he can do it in here.”
“What does it matter where I work?”
He fisted his hands and pressed his knuckles against the desktop as he leaned forward. “It matters because I say it matters.”
Raising my chin, I spoke through clenched teeth as I gathered my boards together and needlessly rearranged them to avoid meeting his angry gaze. “Is there anything else, sir?”
He leaned back. “Yes. You’re accompanying me to a dinner tonight.”
I froze, the board I held slipping from my fingers and landing with a soft thud on the floor.
As I bent down to pick it up, I blurted, “Tonight? I can’t. I have plans.”
Sebastian charged around the desk in a heartbeat, his presence looming over me where I remained crouched. “You what?”
Swallowing hard, I focused on the shine of his undoubtedly expensive Italian leather shoes. “I said, I already made plans.”
He didn’t move for a long moment, and I foolishly thought I’d gotten away with it.
“Unless you plan on making yourself useful while down there on your knees, I suggest you stand and face me.”
My cheeks flamed at his audacity, the sexual innuendo hitting me like a sucker punch.
Biting my lip, I pushed off the floor and rose to my full height.
He reached out, his hand tilting my face up so I couldn’t escape his scrutiny. “Explain.”
“I’ve been invited to go out for drinks after work with the rest of the team."
His thumb moved over my lower lip, the soft touch sending a shiver down my spine. “Tell them no.”
“I already told them yes.”
His hand slid from my chin to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing against my skin in a way that made my pulse race. “What did I tell you about angering me, sweetheart?”
It was the first time he’d overtly touched me in two weeks.
The ache of wanting him—to lean into his hand, to press myself against him—was almost unbearable.
“I’m not trying to anger you,” I said softly. “I’m sure there are plenty of women who would be more than willing to accompany you.”
“There are,” he admitted.
“Good.”
“I want you.”
“You can’t have me,” I said anyway, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them.
My pulse kicked up a notch as he leaned closer, his hand sliding to the nape of my neck, where his thumb brushed the sensitive skin behind my ear.
“You think you can play these games with me?” he murmured. “Maybe it’s time I show you what happens to the ones who lose.”