A date.
That was what Damien Romano called it.
I called it an interview for ownership.
The restaurant was empty. Not reserved — emptied. Every table cleared, every waiter dismissed. Just me in my blue dress, finger scratching my thumb anxiously while waiting for a man rumored to destroy companies before breakfast and fire people over a stutter.
"I hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long, Miss Pine," his deep voice rang through the hall. My spine straightened on instinct as his low, velvet voice hit me low in the stomach.
"Not at all," I replied as he took his seat opposite me, letting a waft of cedar and smoke up my nostrils.
A rather stiff waiter appeared immediately at his silent signal and took our order with shaky hands.
My stomach rumbled at the amazing aroma that came with the food. When was the last time I ate properly?
The waiter who was filling Damien's glass with champagne shook. The glass toppled over and splashed over Damien.
My eyes widened. The waiter gasped. The chef heard the glass shattering and rushed out as well.
"I'm so, so sorry, Mr. Romano," the waiter apologized with a fearful look in his eyes.
Damien's eyes flickered from his stained jacket, which most likely cost more than all our salaries combined, to the waiter with a chilling look.
He held a hand up to the rambling waiter and took out a tissue.
"Sir, I'm so sor…"
"Get out."
The temperature in the room dropped to minus twenty degrees.
"Sir?"
"Mr. Romano, please, accept our deepest…" the chef began but got cut off.
"Get. Out!"
The waiter sucked in a sob and turned away while the chef cleaned up the glass shards and refilled another glass for him before leaving with yet another apologetic now Damien barely acknowledged.
He took off his ruined jacket, the white dress shirt underneath pulling tight across his shoulders and chest as he moved. He rolled the sleeves once, forearms flexing, veins standing out against tanned skin, spidery black ink peeking out of the cuffs, then returned his gaze to me—who was still frozen in shock and fear.
So the rumors weren't lying.
"I assume these few days have proved enlightening," he mocked, voice quieter now, almost intimate across the empty table.
Last week, when he proposed this contract, I outrightly shut it down, clinging onto my pride with every bit of self-control in me.
Well… shit happened.
*****************
I stayed on my knees, covered in bruises all over, shoulder throbbing from being kicked multiple times by his two men, the metallic taste of blood in my mouth mixed with the saltiness of my tears as I stared at my blank screen on the ground.
"…it was another heart attack. They said she's stable now but you need to get here soon" Sarah's message read.
Logan, the city's most dangerous mobster, stood by the alley wall, shaking his head with a devilish smile.
"Please… leave my mum out of this. I-I won't try to run again, I promise" I begged with my head down, more tears pouring out.
I registered him standing right in front of me, then his hand went to my head, stroking it slowly. I shook… it only made the pit of dread in my stomach go deeper.
"You poor girl. So sweet and innocent, damned to live such a terrible life of suffering. Who could you possibly have wronged in your last life?"
My lips quivered as my eyes welled again.
He fisted my hair and yanked my head back abruptly forcing a shallow scream to tear from my throat. "This will be your last warning, kitten. The next time I hear even a whisper of you trying anything funny, not only will I give you a slow torturous death, but I'll go after your beloved mother too. This is just the tip of the iceberg. Am I clear?"
I nodded. He jerked my hair back again. "AM I CLEAR?!" "YES! I promise. I won't do anything again!"
Only then did he release my hair, pushing me to the ground. "You have 8 months to pay up with interest. If not…"
*****************
My shoulder was still sore a week later.
He pushed the black folder to me along with a pen. No need to explain it. I stared at it like the hazard it was.
He needed a child. A wife first to soften the future rumors.
"I've given you enough time already, Aria, and I do not give time. Make your decision now or leave!"
"I have my own conditions as well, Mr. Romano."
"Go on."
"I want the position I originally applied for in your company, Aether Holdings."
His cold eyes held mine, a hint of amusement in them—and something darker that made my thighs press together under the table.
"You can resume on Monday."
Oh… okay, that fast.
I flipped the page. "You want to be the main custodian of the child. What rights will I have?"
"The full rights of a co-parent, provided you act accordingly and stay in line."
I swallowed.
Everyone could tell what "staying in line" meant with this man.
"What does 'security during and after this arrangement' mean?"
He linked his hands on the table, long fingers steepled. The motion drew my eye momentarily.
"Protection from paparazzi, threats, and any inconvenience that will come with this arrangement. Your background will be covered as well. You'll be untraceable."
I nodded. "I want to disappear completely after we separate."
His brows twitched a little. "You want your identity erased?"
"Yes. I want to vanish."
"Quite a bold claim. Done."
I signed the papers with trembling hands before I could second-guess this and pushed it back to him.
A cold chill ran through me. I had just sold my soul… for two years, though, but still.
"As you know, this is for optics. So there will be more dates like this as we move on. I'll have a schedule sent to you."
"This is more of a business dinner than a date, Mr. Romano." I muttered to myself and dropped my glass.
"I'll endeavor to put in efforts to make this more… date-worthy next time."
Something about that tone told me he was mocking me. "I wonder why I find that hard to believe."
He gave a low chuckle, wiped his mouth, and pushed to his feet. I stood up as well, forced by his towering presence.
"Shall we?"
"Y-yes."
I turned to walk but froze when I felt his hand settle on the small of my back. Heat radiated from his palm through the thin fabric of my dress and through my entire body.
It made me realize just how cold it was once we stepped out of the restaurant.
I shivered and leaned into him subconsciously, my shoulder brushing his chest.
"Aria."
I hadn't even turned fully before his hand cupped my jaw, and his lips came down on mine without warning.
I stiffened as the hand on my back slid lower, pulling me flush against him until I could feel every hard line of his body pressed to mine.
It was getting hot. His mouth was demanding, tongue pushing past my lips without asking, tasting of champagne and something darker.
He angled my head exactly how he wanted it, deepening the kiss until my knees felt unsteady and my breathing turned ragged.
Then he pulled back, just enough that our mouths were still close enough to share air.
When I finally reeled in from the shock, I gathered all my remaining strength and pushed back—weakly—my palms flat on his chest.
His eyes flickered momentarily to a spot above my head, then right back to mine with cool indifference, like this was a normal Thursday routine.
"W-what… what was that?"