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As my stomach flips and then flops, I glance to the left. My heart stutters in my chest.
Wearing gray pants and a white sweater, I see Dominick standing near the entrance to the building. He rakes a hand through his hair just as the driver swings open the car door.
Before he can get a hand inside to help me, Dominick is there.
He reaches out to me. “Arietta. I’m so glad you’re here.”
I place my hand in his, relishing in the warmth and strength of his touch. I step out of the car and into the personal world of my boss.
I know that everything between us will change tonight, and without any trepidation, I hold his hand as he leads me into the building he calls home.
***
I take in the beauty of Dominick’s home as he pours us each a glass of wine. The floor plan is open and welcoming. Even though I’m across the room from the windows, I can tell that the view is indeed breathtaking.
Unlike his office, Dominick’s apartment is filled with warmth and charm.
The furniture consists of mostly large pieces. The cracks in the dark brown leather on the arm of the sofa that sits in the center of the room speaks of comfort.
There’s a fireplace surrounded by weathered bricks and a wall displaying framed photographs of people and places.
“I took most of those,” he comments as he nears me.
I take the wineglass he offers after I place my clutch on the foyer table. “You took those pictures?”
I gaze at them, taking in the masterful composition and lighting. My father takes pictures for a living, but his portfolio features one thing. He’s a school photographer. The best days of my childhood spent in the classroom were when my dad would show up with his camera, lights, and diffusers to take pictures of my classmates and me. He’d made everyone laugh with his dad jokes, and I’d beam with pride, knowing I’d get to hear them again at dinner that night.
He gestures toward them. “It’s a hobby.”
Tearing my eyes away from his, I study the pictures. I step closer to look at one of Marti, at the restaurant, with her hands in the pockets of her apron and her head falling back in laughter. “You’re really good. I’m not an expert, but I know beauty when I see it.”
“So do I.”
I turn to find him staring at me. I want to pinch myself to see if this is real. How am I standing next to Dominick, drinking wine and looking at his private photo collection?
“Clarice adores you,” he says before he takes a sip of wine. “After we signed the contract today, she told me you reminded her of herself when she was young.”
That’s a compliment I don’t take lightly. “She said that?”
“In the elevator,” he confirms. “I got the whole story of what happened the night you met.”
I knew that would eventually come out, so I smile. “How could I not give her my brooch? She helped me get you and your date a reservation in Boston, and the brooch reminded her of one her grandmother had.”
“For the record,” he says, leaning closer to me. “I had dinner in Boston with my cousin Rocco, and I was referring to this...”
He sets his wine glass down on the coffee table before he reaches into his pocket to slide out his phone. His fingers move deftly over the screen.
The silence is broken by the sound of fingernails racing down a chalkboard.
I take another sip of wine when I realize Clarice must have mentioned that I have my notifications for his incoming emails set to that horrific sound. “Uh oh.”
His deep laughter fills the room. “What is that I hear? I think you have a new email, Arietta.”
I rarely blush, but there’s no way I can ward it off. I’m busted.
“Should I read it now?”
“Right now.” His eyes linger on my lips. “Give me your wine.”
I take one last gulp before I hand over the glass to him. “I can explain about the fingernails on the chalkboard.”
He sets my glass next to his on the table. “Read the email.”
I set off back toward the foyer. It takes seconds for me to open the clutch and retrieve my phone. By then, he’s next to me.
I look up and into his eyes. “I set up that incoming email notification sound a long time ago.”
He taps his finger on the corner of my phone. “The email, Arietta.”
Nodding, I drop my attention to my phone.
I smile when I see the subject line of the email he just sent.
Subject: Tonight
Dearest Arietta,
Your presence here tonight is the best part of a truly memorable day.
Thank you for accepting my invitation.
Signed,
THE DICK
XOXO
I laugh. I can’t help it. “I’m sorry about the nickname.”
His gaze travels over my face. “I’m not.”
