AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But he didn’t.
Christ, he was serious.
My ass didn’t budge from the chair. We stared at one another, our resolves locked in an inescapable impasse. A knock sounded at the door.
I didn’t dare look, and neither did he.
“What?” he barked, his cold eyes still on mine.
“Your meal, sir,” came a voice, wrapped in hesitancy and delivered with caution.
Sir.
Not Bastiano.
Not Bastian.
Not Mr. Romano.
Sir.
My God, he was like this with everyone, commanding supremacy like it was reasonable to demand. Like he ran the world instead of a restaurant and bar in New York City.
I couldn’t imagine the balls it took to act and think like Bastiano Romano.
My eyes involuntarily dropped to his crotch. I couldn’t see it past the bulk of his desk, but it was like my body had a mind of its own.
His eyes instantly narrowed, whether at my defeat or the direction of my sight, I didn’t know.
In the background, I heard the same voice whisper, “Uh, sir? I have to get back to the dining service.”
With his eyes on mine, Bastiano snapped, “Then leave already.”
“But the food—”
“Leave it in the break room.”
The sound of a cart creaking filled the air, loud but not nearly as loud as the tension between us. As soon as whoever had come was gone, Bastiano stood and left, not bothering to talk to me.
Gritting my teeth, I reminded myself of the greater good to dealing with Bastian’s bullshit. Plus, I wanted better assignments, and nothing screamed unqualified like flunking a simple interview.
I stood, following after him like a mindless puppy.
I suspected that was the point of his game—to drill into me that I was less than him, merely a minion meant to follow his every command and do his bidding, even when he didn’t speak or ask anything of me.
And because I loathed that feeling, I took a seat as soon as we entered the break room, not bothering to wait for him to offer one.
The chair was plush leather that curved around my body when I sat. It was larger than the other chairs and boasted a taller back.
Clearly, it was the one meant for him.
But as soon as I sat, the waiter, who had been standing off to the side, pushed the cart, which was more like a traveling table with silverware and a tablecloth, in front of me.
He left quickly after, passing a stone-faced Bastiano on the way.
When the waiter was gone, Bastian closed the door and locked it. The daunting click sent a shudder down my spine.
I watched warily as he took his time approaching me, a look of indifference pasted on his face.
