In the gritty realm of the Italian-American mafia, Avery Fernández, a diligent and punctual worker at a construction company, crosses paths with Eric Giovanni Moretti, the audacious and enigmatic scion of the notorious Moretti family. Tasked with th...
The aftermath of my encounter with Eric lingered in the air. As I returned to my desk, the routine paperwork now felt like an uphill battle against the echoes of his arrogance. My phone buzzed, a text from Mr. Thompson. The message was cryptic, "Expect my call about the penthouse. We'll see if you're up to the task."
Inside my mind, annoyance simmered. I couldn't believe his rudeness. Yes, I had a job to do, and dealing with difficult clients was part of the game. This deal could also be a breakthrough for my career.
Finally, one afternoon, my phone rang, and his name flashed on the screen. I took a deep breath, preparing for the next round of his scrutiny.
"Ms. Avery," his voice drawled, the arrogance unmistakable even through the phone. "Let's talk penthouse. I hope you've improved since our last meeting."
As we delved into the details, he peppered the conversation with critiques and challenges. Each word felt like a jab, but I held my ground, determined not to let him see the cracks in my professional facade.
Hours passed, and our conversation went on - his preferences, his expectations but not much about his life beyond the penthouse. It was quite difficult to understand what he really wanted.
"I'm not just buying a penthouse; I'm investing in the people behind it," he said, a hint of sincerity cutting through the usual arrogance. Inside my mind, warning bells chimed. As the conversation neared its end, Eric said, "I'll need some time to think about this. I'll be in touch, Ms. Avery."
And just like that, the call ended, leaving me with a mix of uncertainty and anxiety.
God! I just wanted him to tell me his decision already!
_
The days crawled by, each passing moment filled with the anticipation of Eric's decision. Then, the call came. Eric's voice, colder and more formal than ever, pierced through the phone."Ms. Avery, I've decided to check the penthouse myself. Make sure it's as spectacular as you've described. I expect you to be there when I arrive." His tone left no room for argument, and with a reluctant "Yes, Mr. Eric," I agreed to meet him at the penthouse.
As I greeted him at the entrance, the air between us crackled with tension. Eric's eyes scanned the spacious interior, taking in the modern design and luxurious details. "Let's not waste time," he said briskly. "Show me around."
The penthouse was indeed impressive - spacious rooms, sleek furnishings, and a jaw-dropping jacuzzi. As I guided him through the property, a thought slipped out, "This place is perfect for parties. We even have space for a bar."
Eric's response was swift and snarky, "I'm a private person, Miss Avery. I have no intentions of partying and bringing young folk..." He glanced me up and down, "...such as yourself."
A flicker of anger surged through me. How dare he?
I shot back, "Don't make assumptions about me, Mr. Eric. I work day and night, have barely any friends, and occasionally visit my mother, with whom I don't even get along with!" I regretted saying all that as soon as I said it.
Surprisingly, Eric's demeanor shifted. He became polite but remained formal. "My apologies, Ms. Avery. The penthouse is satisfactory. Perhaps you should take a break. Join me for a drink to celebrate this successful viewing."
Wait what? Is he buying this place? Was it sympathy? Who cares? This meant so much for my job!
I was caught off guard too. Join him for a drink? I hesitated for a moment. A short professional drink to seal the deal couldn't hurt, right? I said, "A drink to seal the deal," trying my best to hide my excitement.
_
The evening unfolded as I found myself preparing for an unexpected rendezvous with Eric. Despite the physical exertion being minimal, the emotional toll left me drained. My boss was quite pleased.
Returning home, I felt the exhaustion settling in. An odd sensation of nervousness fluttered within me. Why was I so on edge?
I scoured my wardrobe for a dress, settling on a simple, blazer black dress that hugged my curves, striking a balance between elegance and allure. It felt too formal at first so I removed the shirt beneath the dress exposing my chest bone.
This is good. It is formal but not too formal. I liked deep V-necks a lot.
_
The evening descended, and I readied myself, ensuring all the important documents for the penthouse deal were securely tucked away. As I looked into the mirror, a flicker of unease danced in my eyes. I couldn't remember the last time I had dressed up for someone other than myself.
I took a moment and decided to take a shot to calm my nerves, rationalizing it as a harmless endeavor. Nothing more, nothing less. Summoning a cab, I headed toward the meeting.
Ups! Ten obraz nie jest zgodny z naszymi wytycznymi. Aby kontynuować, spróbuj go usunąć lub użyć innego.
The penthouse, illuminated against the night sky, looked even more enchanting. Eric awaited, looking effortlessly handsome in a simple shirt, leather jacket, and jeans. I approached him with a gesture to shake hands, a customary formality. To my surprise, he reciprocated, but his hand extended to rest on the small of my back, just above the ends of my hair.
"Miss Avery," he began, his voice calm, "I didn't think it would be so unbearable for you to be here that you had to drink before you came."
My face burned with embarrassment, and I wished the floor would swallow me whole. Does his nose belong to a fucking wolf? Eric's keen observation left me exposed, and I stammered, "It's... uh, just a shot. No big deal."
He offered a faint smile, his eyes holding a glint of amusement. "Shots are usually reserved for celebrations, Miss Avery. Are you celebrating our successful collaboration already?"
The mix of teasing and formality in his tone only deepened my discomfort. I attempted a composed response, "Well, it's not every day one seals a penthouse deal, right?"
He chuckled, the sound a low rumble that resonated in the elegant space. "True. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Shall we have that drink?"
Are you serious? Has he still not decided whether he's buying this place?
My unease lingered as I followed him to an already well-stocked bar. He poured two glasses, handing one to me acting like the place already belongs to him. I wondered how could he afford such a lavish penthouse at such a young age.
As I sipped the drink, the warmth spreading through me. I kept on breaking eye contact and kept on looking into my drink, as if I am studying the color of it, totally giving away that I am intimidated by him.
