Page 19 of War Within
A sheepish smile formed on her lips, but she dropped her head looking away. “That's a good thing, I guess.”
“It’s a great thing.” I removed my hand, realizing abruptly I was touching my employee.
Not wanting to alarm her, or involve her in my private matters, I distracted her by chatting about other things. She just saved my company and possibly my life. At some point while answering one of her questions, her head started to lean, and she seemed to zone out, ogling at my mouth.
“What do you think?”
She remained motionless, blushing, with a faint smile on her face.
“Jane?”
“Oh my God! Sorry!” She pursed her lips, exhaling, rubbing her palms on her thighs. “What were you saying?”
I chuckled. “I asked if you would like to have lunch with me tomorrow.”
The previous night was weighing on my mind. It felt as if it were only a matter of time before I was trapped between Mr. Rovati and my other boss. Nightly, my real boss called to check on me or snuck by for a visit just to fuck me. He was attractive but selfish in bed. He never let me finish. He wanted the focus to be about him. Sex with him was always accompanied by a mini-business meeting after. I would explain everything while skimming a little money off the company funds as I got the opportunity.
It was sad that Mr. Rovati was so gorgeous. It was almost hard to screw him over, but it had to be done. I had to admit, it was nice to see a deeper side to him last night, but it did not change anything. I was starting to enjoy the game I was playing with him, almost too much. It was a dangerous game. If not played right, I would meet my demise sooner rather than later.
Marco texted me this morning to see if I wanted to have dinner tonight. I finally agreed. He was nice enough and seemed genuine, so I was happy to accept his offer.
My work environment had changed thanks to this past weekend. I felt I had gained more trust which was crucial. I had been working for the company for a long time. It was only fair that Mr. Rovati started to give me a little more of his faith.
The air conditioning was a bit cooler today. A sudden chill enveloped my entire body. Though I was already wearing a light blazer, I felt the need to get a heavier jacket. Standing, I pushed my rolling chair back from the desk, grabbing a jacket off the coat rack in the corner of the room.
Before I could slip it on, I was startled by the noise of the door behind me, followed by a cough. I spun around, dropping my jacket to the floor instantly when I saw two large men. Both wearing tailored suits, the shorter in all black removed his sunglasses scanning the executive lobby.
The taller man seemed as if he had just stepped off the pages of GQ magazine. He folded his arms over his chest, causing his charcoal suit to strangle his sizable biceps. The stubble on his chin and man bun would have made any woman weak in the knees. Tilting his head, he smirked as I picked up the jacket, tossing it over the chair on the way to greet them.
“Good morning, gentlemen.” I tried my best not to trip. “How may I assist you?”
As I came to a halt before them, I processed just how intimidating these men actually were up close. The shorter man was at least six-feet tall. The taller man, had to be an inch or two taller than Mr. Rovati’s six-foot, two-inch physique. It had been impossible to estimate his height from across the lobby.
“We are here to see Giovanni Rovati.” The taller man’s stoic expression and accent made my hair stand on end. His Italian pronunciations seemed a bit faded as if he had spent many years in America.
“Sure.” I swallowed hard. “May I give him your names?”
“I would hope you did.” He lifted his hand to his chin, smirking. “I’m Carmine Giamagi and this is Joey Fioli.” He jerked his head to the shorter one.
Joey remained silent, watching my every move.
“Well, aren't you the strong, silent type, Joey?” I snorted.
Carmine rolled his tongue across his bottom lip, focusing harder on my gaze. Joey did not budge.
“It was just a joke.” I sighed, backing away. “I’ll go let Mr. Rovati know.”
Usually I called him on the phone when someone came into the office, unless the visitor was Italian, or spoke with an accent. Then I was supposed to inform him in person. His rules. The moment I was around the corner, I picked up the pace. The door was open, and he was typing on his laptop. I peeked in the room, knocking twice on the door frame.
“Mr. Rovati?”
Without looking up, he waved his hand, typing with only the other. “Come in, but just a moment.”
Approaching with caution, I meandered to the sitting area. Patiently, I waited for him to finish as my eyes roamed the room, searching for something of interest. I twisted my lips back and forth, nibbling the inside of my cheeks.
Seconds later he closed his laptop then propped his elbows on the surface of his desk. “What can I do for you?”
“There are two men at reception asking to see you.”
