The Devil's Desire
Chapter 5
LUCIANA
I lean over the table to take back my questionnaires, and he moves so we're face to face. His breath is close to me, and I can feel it. He's looking into my eyes as though he can see through them right into my soul.
In those few seconds, with our eyes locked, I feel like I’ve run a marathon. My heart is beating at a dizzying speed, nearly making me think I’m having a heart attack.
I clear my throat. “You speak of professionalism, yet you invade my personal space within the same hour. How noble of you, Mr. Morata.”
His resulting chuckle feels like a rumble through my bones. “You are the one in my personal space, Luciana. Make no mistake, though, I’m not complaining.”
I will myself to straighten up, and it feels like I have returned to the normal world after being stuck in whatever universe that was. Why am I behaving like he's the first man on earth I am encountering?
Besides, he's an asshole. That alone should be enough reason to stay as far from him as physically possible.
As I walk back to my desk, I feel his eyes glued to my backside. I should be offended, but somehow, I’m not. I may have slowed down for a few seconds, too, which makes me scold myself as soon as my brain is back to its normal functionality.
“I guess we're having that coffee after all,” he says.
I bite back a retort. What choice do I have? I’m the one with everything to lose. If I blow up this deal, I don’t know how long it would take before another valuable client magically appears. I swear this one magically appeared, and I don’t give a fuck which cauldron he came from, but he’s my ticket, no matter how frustrating he is.
A few minutes later, I have resigned to my fate. No matter how much I fight it, the only way to get him to sign the deal is to have coffee with him.
To be fair, I may not have said no to him if we met under different circumstances and he asked me out. I just hate being trapped. “I think this meeting is over,” I say.
“But I don't want to leave,” he makes himself more comfortable by crossing his legs and grabbing a magazine to read.
Is this man's sole purpose to torment me?
“Is there anything else you want to discuss with me?'' I frown, hoping he isn't going to give me another bullshit answer.
“Not that I can think of,” he answers.
I raise my brows in question.
Then what do you want?
“I just feel comfortable on this couch. Besides, it was a two-hour meeting and…” he raises his hand to glance at his red-faced, diamond watch that has to be one of those fancy Rolexes with ridiculous price tags. “I still have thirty minutes.”
If we have nothing to discuss, am I going to have to look after him while he does annoying things? No one said anything about me being a babysitter.
“Mr Morata...” I start, only to get interrupted by him.
He raises his head, his expression playful. “The sound of my name on your lips is quite sexy.”
I let out an angry breath for the umpteenth time.
This man is going to be the end of me. If this is some kind of punishment for something, then I'd rather die.
Luckily, he changes the topic immediately. “I'm the biggest, newest client in town. Companies are competing for me. You see? I’m a hot commodity in demand. Actually, everyone wants me, but I chose you.”
My mind is still stuck on hot commodity. I bite my lower lip, giving him another round of scrutiny. Indeed, a hot commodity.
I shift on my seat when I catch myself in the act.
That was so unprofessional, Luciana. I scold myself.
“You already said that,” I answer him.
“Good,” he says, finding a comfortable position on the couch. He must think my office is his personal lounge. He looks so cozy that I picture a big bucket of popcorn and he will be ready to watch a movie.
In comparison, I’m fidgeting in my chair because life has yet to bestow me with the same amount of luck. Part of my duties is being interfered with by him.
Half an hour later, I'm still trying to get a crazy panda out of my office. Why am I even using this analogy? They may be the goofiest animals, but I love them. I've always wanted to hug a panda, actually. They look so fluffy and comfortable to cuddle with.
I've been unknowingly staring at the man on the couch when our eyes meet.
I quickly look away.
Nope, I will never hug this particular panda.
I've endured thirty more minutes of torture with my new client.
When he leaves, I almost expect him to pop back in just to mess with me.
__________
“Luciana, I’m about to go home. Are you staying?”
Sofia's voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I didn't realize it was already so late.
I nod listlessly. “I still have a few things to take care of. Can you get me some Advil before you leave?”
She gives me the kind of look that reminds me of my mother. “If you are unwell, you should go home and rest.”
I laugh. “It’s just a headache, Sofia. I will be fine.”
She begrudgingly brings the medicine, grumbling something about her life ending prematurely because her boss won't take care of herself. I ignore her rant and return to work.
Soon after she leaves, my phone rings. As soon as I see “Claudia” on the caller name, I know Sofia told my best friend something.
“I’m outside VRE. Get your ass down here or I will call 911 and report a fire,” she threatens and ends the call.
I shake my head. My best friend is a little crazy, but I know she would take a bullet for me. I pack up and leave the office since I do need the distraction after the kind of day I’ve had. Besides, I know when Claudia is serious about doing something insane to get her way.
She’s parked in front of the building, leaning against her car.
“So, who am I killing today?” She asks.
One would think I’m in a group of assassins, but it's just Claudia being overly concerned and protective, as usual.
“What makes you think I have a client for you today?” I ask jokingly as we enter her car.
“Oh, come on, I didn't know you yesterday. You look like you barely managed to escape from hell with your life intact. Who pissed you off?'' She doesn't start the car, waiting for me to respond.
Though, to be fair, she's the only one I can complain to. “I had the worst client in the world,” I grit my teeth. Just thinking about it annoys me to the core.
“What's his name, and did you get his address?”
It’s almost amusing that her brain always jumps to the same place. “Don't even think about it. He's a tycoon.”
“Wouldn't be my first rodeo with those,” she shrugs.
Of course, I know she's joking.
“You know we can't afford to lose clients now, especially not to your blade.” I play along with her joke as she pulls the car out of the parking lot.
“And what does Vicente have to say about that?” She asks, peeking at me briefly.
Don't say it. I try to convince myself.
She catches my expression and drawls, “Luciana…”
“Vicente offered me a way out,” I tell her, knowing this conversation will never end otherwise.
“What did he want?” She asks nonchalantly, but her knuckles are nearly white from the force she's using to grip the steering wheel.
“Easy, girl.” I try to calm her down.
"There's nothing easy about Vicente Hidalgo."
Okay, she's not calming down anytime soon.
“He was offering a way out. And honestly, it's a good plan.”
She shoots me yet another “Mom” look. “Luciana Vargas!”
“It's a deal that could revive the company. The new client isn't any better anyway. He could walk out any minute, and the hours of stress will be for naught.”
Especially since he knows he’s a hot commodity in demand. My brain lapses for a few seconds as I recall how devastatingly hot he looked.
“So you're considering Vicente's deal?” she asks, her eyes turning menacing.
“Of course not, silly, I'm going to do the best I can with my new client.”
She turns to flash me a light-bulb smile. “I know just what you need.”
A night of clubbing—she doesn't need to say it out loud.
____________
It's only seven in the evening by the time we get to Delta. While that may be early for other clubs, there's no such thing as too early to party at Delta.
The music is already booming, people dancing and grinding against each other under the multicolored lights. It’s the perfect place to distract me from the kind of day I’ve just had.
Claudia is already on her fourth shot of tequila by the time I’ve had my second. I want to snatch that one from her, but she's no lightweight.
I don't have to worry about dragging her drunk ass out of here.
“Let me get this straight. You're going out with someone tomorrow,” she says after slamming the glass on the table.
Yeah, that's what I just told her.
Except, this is not the reaction I was expecting from her.
Apparently, my best friend has long forgotten about the part where I've just narrated how Dario Morata has been an asshole in an entire meeting.
Now she's more interested in the part where I agreed to go out with him.
"What happened to you wanting to kill the asshole?” I ask.
“Well, taking you out happened. At least you'll remember what it feels like to be with a man,” she says.
I groan. Not again.
“Are you even my friend?”
“Come on, when was the last time those lips were invaded?”
“I'm not going to kiss him!” I exclaim since it seems she's not getting the point.
She orders another round of shots and wiggles her brows at me. “Those aren't the lips I was talking about, but that too.”
My jaw drops, and she points at my open mouth.
“You haven't done that in a while either.”
Before I can answer that, a waiter approaches our table with cocktails in two inverted-cone glasses; the perfect combination of blue, pink, and purple drinks that somehow didn't mix, topped with lemon slices on the edges.
“We didn't order those,” I tell him.
“I know, ma'am,” he answers politely. “They are from him.” He points to his left, and my eyes follow in the direction of a man waving at me.
Is that…Dario Morata?
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