Chapter 6
I arrive at the bar with Samantha. We poured ourselves into this project, and it turned out beautifully, so the owner, Mr. Liam Miller, invited us to the opening. We walk into the VIP room and there he is—Mattia Bianchi, who's been haunting my thoughts ever since he grabbed me by the waist.
He's gorgeous, with those blue eyes that would drive any woman crazy, but I need to stop thinking like this. I've already suffered enough with my ex-fiancé, and suddenly a memory of those terrible moments with him comes flooding back.
“Come here, kitten, sit next to me.
“Let me just finish this chapter of my book. I'll be right there.”
At that moment, he gets up—he'd been watching a football game on TV—comes over to me, grabs my book, tears it up, and says:
“Are you coming now? Or do you want me to do something else?”
“You tore up my book. It was my favorite.”
“When I tell you to do something, go and do it. Don't make me wait, or I'll tear up as many books as I need to,” — he says, grabbing my arm.
“You're hurting me.” — He pushes me onto the couch. I land hard, and he comes at me, pointing his finger in my face:
“Just listen to me next time, and none of this happens, got it?” — he shouts that last part. I just nod.”
I snap out of my thoughts when I hear Samantha calling me. She notices something's off and says:
“Thinking about that again, girl? It's in the past. You got out, and now you're living a new life. Don't let him get in your way. Here, I got you a drink.”
“Thanks, girl. If it weren't for you, I don't think I'd even be here today.”
“Stop being silly and drink up. Let's have fun tonight—you've been working way too hard these past few days. You need to relax.”
I glance over and see Mattia watching our conversation.
I turn back to my drink, which is delicious.
Even though I'm not much of a drinker, I really like wine and light cocktails.
Our area is already packed—everyone's arrived and we're deep in lively conversation when some appetizers come out.
I love these, so I nibble on a few to keep from getting drunk too fast.
Mattia and I exchange glances all night, but that's not for me. He must have gorgeous Italian women falling at his feet, so I decide to get him out of my head. Besides, I don't want that anyway—my last relationship taught me enough about men, and I'm afraid of going through all that again.
Samantha and I decide to leave around midnight, but the rest of the group ends up staying longer. We order a rideshare—I decided not to drive because I wanted to enjoy the night, and it really was wonderful. Our car arrives, we say goodbye to everyone, and head out.
I hear an annoying song in the distance, and it won't stop—it's relentless. Suddenly my mom comes into my room, calling me, saying the alarm has been going off for several minutes. So that's where the annoying song was coming from.
“Honey, get up, or you're going to fall asleep again.”
“Thanks for waking me up, Mom. I'll get up.”
“Breakfast is already on the table.”
I get up, take a shower, get ready, and pick out an outfit from the closet.
Today it'll be jeans, a white blouse with a modest neckline, and a blazer.
Since I'm overseeing the renovation up close, I try not to ruin my work suits.
I head downstairs and find Mom and my sister already having breakfast.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning, sis, how’s it going with the grumpy Italian?” The nickname gets a little worse every time.
“He arrived on Saturday and has already shown up at the site, but since we’re almost finished, he just observed. Your company will be taking over with the furniture soon, Gaby.”
“Yes, everything’s ready to go.”
“I’m glad to hear that, because he’s very demanding. I’m heading out now, or I’ll be late.”
I say goodbye, grab my purse, and leave, but as I’m walking to the car, my phone rings. I pick it up, look at the screen, and the name Mr. Arrogant is flashing. I want nothing more than to ignore it, but I can’t do that, so I put on my best smile and friendly voice and hit accept.
“Good morning, Mr. ar... Mattia, how are you?” Shit.
“Will it take you much longer to get here?” How can his English be so perfect?
“No, sir, if traffic is good, I’ll be there in less than half an hour.”
“Then hurry up and get here as fast as possible.”
“Did something happ—” Beep beep beep beep.
The son of a bitch hung up on me. I should be used to this by now, but no, always hoping people will improve. Damn it. I start the car and to my delight, there’s almost no one on the road, and I make it in exactly twenty minutes. I park in front of the restaurant, get out, and walk in talking.
“Where’s the fire?” At that moment, everyone looks at me—Mattia with an unfriendly expression, Carter trying not to laugh, and Samantha, who’s here today, already cracking up.
“Looks like someone woke up in a good mood today, mancare.”
“Buongiorno anche a te[18].” If he thinks he can make my life hell, I can give as good as I get.
“Emma, we got here a little early, and I brought Samantha to help you. Mattia wants a change to the bar.”
“What do you mean, a change? The project was approved, everything’s done—there’s no way to change it now.”
“Eso che puoi farcela, signorina[19],” he says, walking out.
“Wait, Carter…” and they walk out, leaving me with a startled Samantha by my side, iPad in hand.
This Italian came just to ruin my day. Why didn’t he stay in Italy and approve everything from there?
I don’t know what change he wants, and I don’t know how I’m going to pull this off—everything’s ready, we’re at the painting stage.
I look helplessly at my friend, who’s still laughing at our exchange, which I found absolutely nothing funny about, and she comes over to show me what the change is.
It’s not much, and looking at it now, how did I not see this before?
This man is going to drive me crazy, I think, and I rush to call the company that built the bar. They’ll have to fix it.
Chapter 7
I woke up very early today, as I always do, and went down to the building’s gym since mine isn’t ready yet. I trained until exhaustion. I love lifting weights, keeping my body defined—it makes me feel invigorated.
I head back up, take a quick shower, and put on casual clothes.
I’m going to make a very particular visit to the restaurant today.
When I arrived on Saturday, I only gave it a quick look, but since we’re at the end of construction, I want to examine everything carefully.
I call Carter as I’m leaving the apartment and ask him to meet me there.
When I arrive, I see that the person with him isn’t Emma, but her companion from the bar. Thinking about that triggers a flashback.
“I see her walk into the bar and sit down a short distance from me, but we’re facing each other.
I realize I’ll be able to admire her all night, and that’s exactly what I do.
She’s beautiful, with gorgeous red hair falling loose in curls.
The color of her dress stands out against her pale skin.
I notice the freckles on her face too, which make her even more charming.
I can’t take my eyes off her, and sometimes I catch her staring at me too.
This woman is going to shatter what little self-control I have left, because all I want is to get up from my chair, throw her over my shoulder, carry her to my apartment, and show her what an Italian is capable of.
But I remind myself she works for me—I can't get involved.
Not to mention the age gap between us. Still, she's driving me crazy, oh yes she is, and doing a damn good job of it.
Carter nudges me, snapping me out of my daydream.
“Hey, bro, still sleeping?”
I don't even answer, just start scanning every corner. I can see the bar needs some changes. Other than that, only the painting is left, and then it'll be ready for furniture. In less than a month, my restaurant will have its grand opening.
I leave with Carter and let the girls handle things. First, I need to hire a head chef and manager, and for that I'll need my friend's help. We drive to his company, each in our own car. We arrive, head to his office, and he gets right to it.
“Emma's driving you crazy, isn't she? And don't deny it—I can see it in your eyes. When she's around, your whole posture changes, and on Saturday, you couldn't take your eyes off her.”
“Don't be ridiculous. She's just a woman, like any other.”
“I know you well, mio caro. And you're not fooling me.” I decide to confess.
“Is it that obvious?” Carter laughs, gloating over having figured out what I was trying so hard to hide.
“More than obvious. You're practically undressing her with your eyes.”
“I mean, she's beautiful—magnificent body, gorgeous hair, those freckles.”
“My friend's been hooked. I can't believe it,” he says, putting his hand on his heart and making a scene.
“Stop talking nonsense. It's just lust—once I fuck her, it'll pass.”
“Are you sure about that? In my opinion, there's more than just 'lust.'” He makes air quotes with his fingers.
“She's just a woman, and what's stopping me is that she's working on my project. So no chance.”
“So what? Emma's a great person. You should go for it.”
“Take her to bed and that's it—then she'll be on my case, wanting more. Better not. I can fuck anyone out there, and this will pass.”
“If you want, I can take you to a club I know—beautiful women, all types. You choose.” I decide to change the subject; we need to work.
“Let's talk about work. We'll talk about sex later.”
“You never change. Tell me what you need, and I'll see if I can help.”
We stay there talking. He helps me sort out my questions, gets in touch with a friend who runs an employment agency, and everything's set. He even offers me his office for my interviews. When we check the clock, it's already lunchtime.
“Let's grab lunch and head back to the restaurant. I need to see how everything's going there.”
“Emma's probably already handled it and moved on to another detail.”
We decide to eat somewhere near my restaurant. When we get there, we spot the girls already seated at a table, and Carter immediately asks to join them.
“Can we sit with you, ladies?”
“Of course, boss. Make yourselves comfortable,” answers her friend, whose name I still don't know.
Carter sits on one side, leaving me the spot next to the beautiful Emma, so that's where I sit. I notice she's done with the menu, so I pick it up to choose my dish and settle on bolognese pasta—my absolute favorite. When we order, the ragazza and I get the same thing.
Then Carter starts things off.
“So, ladies, how are you? Did you enjoy Saturday's outing?” Her friend is the first to respond.
“The bar turned out wonderful, didn't it, boss? Plus, my friend is amazing with her designs.”
“I didn't do it alone, Samantha. We did it together—everyone worked to make it perfect.” So her name is Samantha.
“Don't be modest, Emma. I gave you Mattia's project because you really stood out on the last two jobs, and I'm not the only one who thinks so. Eduardo has been singing your praises, so I thought you deserved a solo project.”
“Thank you so much, Carter, really. I've been working hard to earn my place.”
“I don't even know how she made it out on Saturday—this girl does nothing but study,” Samantha says, so I decide to join the conversation.
“The bar design really did turn out perfect, and the suggestion for the private section of the restaurant was a great call too. I've noticed people here like having a quieter space.”
“You, praising my work? This is new,” she says, mocking me.
“I know how to recognize good work when I see it, mia cara.”
“Ah, well then, thank you for the compliment—always nice to receive one, and they don't cost anything to give either.” This ragazza is quite bold.
She finishes speaking and our dishes arrive.
We eat in silence. When we're done, I ask for the check and pay for everyone.
She's about to open her mouth to object, but I couldn't care less.
I get up from the table and walk out, hurrying Carter along so we can get back to work.
This ragazza isn't easy either—she has quite a sharp tongue—but one day I'll teach her to be a little more polite and less sarcastic.
I leave the restaurant with this thought: I can already tell this girl is going to give me a lot of trouble, and I'll be very satisfied when I tame her.