The Proposition ✔️

chapter two

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Domenico's POV.

"It's becoming a problem, and I don't like that," I comment coldly.

The men around the table share a knowing, worried look. If I have a problem, it means that they have a problem. They need to fix it before I lose my shit.

"What are you going to do to fix it?" I address the question to my men.

I lean back in my chair and eye them all, making them squirm. They start suggesting ideas, but the brunette standing at the bar grabs my attention. I lock eyes with her, and my slacks instantly feel too tight, too constrictive. She's such a fucking Goddess.

She's wearing an outfit that shows off every curve in her delicious body. Her skin is tanned and smooth, her hair long and thick. She has this Cupid's bow lips that just beg to be kissed.

Alejandra Castillo.

Owner of this restaurant and, if I have my way, my future wife. I hold her eyes and smirk. I love the faint blush that comes over her cheeks and the way she subtly rubs her lips together. She wants me, I know it. She wants me as much as I want her, and I haven't even introduced myself yet.

The idiot bartender hands her a drink and her attention is taken away from me. She sits on one of the stools with her back to me. I can see the bartender talking to her about me, his eyes flick back and forth between us. There is a slight smile on his face, he better be saying good things. I will not be cock-blocked by a fucking bartender with a shit haircut.

I wish I could hear what they are talking about. The two of them laugh and talk like old friends. It irritates me. Disappointment fills me when she stands up, I've enjoyed watching her plump butt pressed against that stool. She straightens her dress and flicks her hair over her shoulder. She turns around and meets my eyes once more.

I beg for her to stay with my eyes. To come closer and talk to me. But I can see the wariness in hers. She doesn't trust me. She senses what I am, even from across the room. Good. That means I'm letting off all the right vibes.

She gives me a brief smile, a dismissive one that annoys me. She waves goodbye to that idiot bartender and leaves. My mood turns sour without her here. The food is incredible, but I'll admit that my company is lacking. These imbeciles wouldn't know their dick from their gun.

"Fix the fucking problem or I will," I threaten suddenly and get to my feet. "I'm leaving."

I storm across the restaurant and go down the stairs. My bodyguards are waiting for me outside. They immediately open the car door, and the driver starts the engine. I spot my girl in a taxi as it pulls out.

"Follow Miss Castillo," I order them.

We tail the cab to an apartment building. I watch her go inside, a take-out bag from the restaurant tucked under her arm. She's staying in tonight, alone. Good. She had a turned on look in her eyes and I was worried that she might look for pleasure elsewhere. I would have been forced to intervene.

"Take me home," I tell the driver and we pull away from the curb.

Tomorrow, I will go after her.

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The restaurant is closed in the day, but Alejandra is in the building. The entire front wall is made of glass, allowing me to watch her move about. She picks up some book and takes a seat at one of the tables. She's wearing a very tight dress that makes me want to squeeze everything. She crosses her legs, causing the dress to inch higher and reveal those lovely, tanned legs to me.