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Chapter Three

“Mr. Romano. It’s Aria. I’m here to get your measurements,” she spoke.

Receiving no answer, she let herself into his room hoping he wouldn’t think she was snooping around.

“Mr. Romano,” she called for the third time.

A second later, he entered the room from the balcony.

‘Oh!’ Aria exclaimed silently. “I knocked,” she pointed at the door behind her, “but no one answered. I thought maybe you didn’t hear me.”

“I heard you,” Mr. Romano replied. “I just didn’t answer because you weren’t calling me.”

Aria's brows furrowed. “What?” she had called him three times and he was saying she hadn’t called him!

“I asked you to call me Colin. Your pronunciation of ‘Romano’ is not my name.”

Was he serious? Aria asked herself. She nodded.

“Well then, Colin,” she spoke.

He nodded.

“I’m here to get your measurements.”

“What are you waiting for?”

Hurriedly, Aria placed her bag on his bed, of course with his permission, and took out a tailor’s tape measure, a book and a pen. Setting the book and pen on the bed, she approached him with the tape.

He had his arms crossed in front of him.

“If you could, umh.”

Her proximity to him was getting to her and she grew nervous.

“Uncross your arms, please.”

She just wanted to get done with it and leave before she made a fool of herself or annoyed him in any way.

Thankfully, he obeyed without any questions or comments. Aria tried to put in some distance between them as she ran the tape over his arm. Was it just her or was the room getting hot all of a sudden? Every time the tips of her finger brushed against his skin, her heart thumped harder. Faster. She felt like she couldn’t breathe quite well. At some point, her hands were shaky. ‘Why did I get this job?’ she whined in her heart.

“Are you alright?” he broke the silence.

His voice was deep and reached within the depths of her soul when he spoke. Thank God, she stood behind him or he would surely have noticed how flustered she was. It was suffocating.

“Mhm!” She even nodded despite the fact that his back was to her. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She tried to calm her voice lest it betrayed her nervousness.

“You seem a little…” he thought of a word and came back with, “…shaky.”

Aria paused for a moment and stared at the nape of his neck before getting back to work. She was done with his arms. On to his neck. She circled him and stood in front of him, putting the tape round his neck.

“You wouldn’t try strangling me, would you?” the man asked and a smile formed across his lips. He looked way better when he smiled than when he was serious.

Aria didn’t dare to look into his eyes. Afraid of what it might do to her. She, too, smiled just a little bit but she didn’t respond to that.

Done with the neck, she measured his chest, waist and down to his feet. Glad that she was done, she jotted down all she needed to note and shoved the book, pen and tape into her bag.

“You sure are in a hurry to get out of here,” he said to her. “Somewhere you need to be?”

She was lifting her bag when he asked. “No. Nowhere. I just…”

“What?” he persisted.

“I wouldn’t want to disrupt the peace and quiet you had before I came in.” With that, she turned around quickly to make her way out of the room.

“Wait,” came the reply.

She stood in her tracks and turned back, anxiously awaiting his next words. He began to approach her and her heart thundered. She was sure if he got close enough he would hear it thump away. He stood right in front of her and stretched forward his hand to her face. Colin brushed back a strand of hair from her face. Heat rose to one hundred degrees inside her when his fingertips brushed her skin.

“That’s it,” Colin said and took a step back.

Aria stood rooted to the spot for a while before muttering a thank you. She turned around to walk out but remembered something. So she turned around again to face him.

"I forgot to ask. Do you have a favorite colour?"

Colin looked at her and pursed his perfect lips.

"It just so happens..." he started to say. Stretching out his right arm, he touched her right shoulder. He slid aside the jacket she had on and slipped his index and middle finger beneath the fabric of the dress she was wearing. At that gesture, she couldn't breathe. Was this a signal? Was it casual?

"My favorite colour on a woman," he continued to say as he smirked, "red."

The upper part of her dress was red. Its skirt was black. Her jacket was white. Did he mean he liked the dress on her?

"Otherwise," he pulled back from her, "my favorite colour is black."