“I’ve heard of it,” he says. “Shall we discuss this in my office?”
“Love to.”
We head down the long hallway until we reach his office. After he unlocks the door, he gestures for me to go ahead in first. The lights come on as I enter. The rich scent of leather from the designer furniture and spice of his cologne fill my nose.
“So, what do you think?” I ask. “About Winston Hills?”
“Why? Are we getting married there?” he teases, dropping into his desk chair.
Armani gestures for me to take the seat across from him, but the unexpectedness of his words and the lightness with which he said them have me stunned.
Quickly recovering, I smooth the back of my skirt and sit.
“Not just yet,” I tease back. “You’re supposed to at least ask me out on a date first.”
“Is that how it works?” he says.
One corner of his mouth pulls up as he leans back in his chair. My awareness of his magnetism heightens as our eyes meet and I sit up a little straighter. Our dynamic is different today, there’s no denying it, and it’s throwing me off. A warning bell chimes deep inside my brain. I need to watch myself.
Clearing my throat, I remove a sheaf of documents from my bag—a standard distribution agreement ready for Armani’s notes, as well as a purchase order template—and slide them across the desk to Armani.
“They’ve proposed starting out with a two-year agreement whereby they’ll exclusively sell Bellanti wines at the venue,” I explain, tapping the contract. “And then this other doc is the purchase order sample I drew up for them. I applied your usual volume discount, and they’re happy with those numbers. I also added a line to the distro agreement where they have the option to buy more wine at the same discount if they need more than the minimum we agreed on before the term is up. What do you think?”
It’s a million-dollar order. The biggest one I’ve landed yet. Or will land, if Armani signs off on it.
He grunts as he scans the papers. “Looks good. So this is basically a done deal?”
I nod. “Yeah, except…there’s some wording toward the end stipulating that a representative from Bellanti Vineyards will get to meet with the decision makers at Winston Hills prior to the end of the term, that way we’ll have a chance to negotiate the continuation of the contract before they potentially sign a deal with another winemaker. They agreed.”
Armani nods, flipping to the last page of the distribution agreement, but I can tell he’s barely listening to me. Which isn’t like him at all. Usually, he’s completely plugged in to anything and everything that has to do with contracts and legal documents. What’s up with him?
“Nice work, Candi.”
He takes out a pen and scribbles his name on the line. I’m not even sure he fully read the distribution agreement, which heightens my suspicion that he’s distracted.
“Of course. Thank you.”
Gathering the papers, I put them into my bag and move my chair back.
He’s watching me intently, as if daring me to get up. I suddenly feel like a mouse facing a lion.
Professional as ever, I tilt my head and smile. “Is there anything else I can do for you while I’m here?”
He looks away and adjusts the already-perfect knot of his silk tie. If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think he’s…nervous?
Our eyes catch as he looks up again.
“Actually, there is something,” he says. “I have a proposal for you.”
This isn’t about work. I can hear it in his tone.
“Sounds intriguing, but I thought we were going to have a date first,” I say lightly.
“The thing is, I’m not the dating kind,” he says, all the humor gone from his voice.
My stomach drops as Armani stands and smooths his tie. He shifts to stand beside his desk, leaving space between us, yet taking up an intimidating amount of it.
My smile struggles to stay in place as heat rushes through my body. From my vantage point, I could have the perfect view, starting at his groin and working to his tight torso, broad chest, the taut line of his neck. But I don’t dare allow myself the pleasure.
