Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72973 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72973 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Ooooh damn.
I spit out the first thing that comes to mind. “It was either run or fuck you right there on the floor.”
“I would’ve been fine with the latter.” Dario’s eyes narrow on my face as if he’s trying to see into my soul. “It’s clear the attraction is mutual, yet you avoid me. Why?”
Because you own the company I work for.
The pressure I’m feeling makes laughter burst over my lips while I try to think of an answer to give him.
“What’s so funny?” Dario asks.
I try to rein in the laughter while shaking my head. “It’s a weird thing I do when I’m in trouble or feel awkward.”
“You’re not in trouble, and you don’t seem like someone who gets awkward,” he states. “Is there another reason?”
I take a sip of my hot chocolate, then mutter, “Can we change the subject?”
“You still owe me an answer,” he reminds me.
Now that I’ve had time to think, I realize I don’t have to lie as I tell him the truth. “I’m avoiding you because I’m not looking for a fling.”
“Who said anything about a fling?” Dario asks.
Annoyed by all the questions and needing to get my ass to work, I grab the paper bag, but before I can get up, Dario grabs hold of my wrist.
“I need to go,” I say, my tone tense from this little encounter.
“I’ll let you go if you give me your phone number,” he tries to make a deal.
I think about it for a moment, then let out a sigh. “Fine.”
I wait for him to pull his cell phone from his pocket before I rattle my number off to him.
Giving his hand around my wrist a pointed look, I mutter, “A deal’s a deal.”
When he lets go, I meet his eyes for a moment, which is a mistake because I instantly feel the intense pull between us.
“I’ll call you soon,” he says as he picks up his cup of coffee.
I stare at Dario for a few seconds longer before I turn around and rush out of the Starbucks.
Just as I step out onto the sidewalk, my phone starts to ring. I pull the device out of my pocket, and thinking it’s Quincy calling to tell me to get my ass to work, I don’t look at the screen and answer, “Hey.”
“Just making sure you gave me the right number before you disappear from my sight,” Dario’s voice rumbles in my ear.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see him watching me through the window.
“Okay. Bye.” I end the call, and pushing the device back into my pocket, I walk as fast as I can toward the ballet company.
Knowing Dario is probably heading in the same direction, I walk around the back, where I give the security camera a pleading look.
I hope Quincy sees me on the security feed.
And here, I’ve done my best to make sure my face is always hidden from the cameras around the building.
All for nothing.
When five minutes pass, I worry I’ll have no choice but to use the main entrance. Just as I start to walk away, the door clicks open, and Quincy asks, “Why are you using this door?”
“I’m avoiding someone.” I enter the building and dig the chocolate cookie from the paper bag. “Here you go.”
“Just in time for my coffee break.”
I hurry to the staff locker room and quickly put on my apron and cap. Retrieving my cleaning cart, I check that I have all the supplies I’ll need, and only when I push the cart toward the auditorium do I manage to let out a relieved breath.
My mind starts racing with thoughts of my interaction with Dario.
God, I was so rude to the man.
Feeling bad, I pull my cell phone out and type a quick message to him.
Eden: Sorry for being so rude. You just caught me at a bad time.
I watch as he instantly reads the message, then it shows he’s typing.
Dario: At least I caught you.
A smile tugs at my lips.
Dario: Have dinner with me on Friday.
My smile fades, and I stare at the message for a while before I type my reply.
Eden: I’m busy Friday night, but I can squeeze you in on Sunday.
Dario: Sunday works for me. Send me your address so I can pick you up.
My eyebrows fly up, and I shake my head as my fingers fly over my phone’s keyboard.
Eden: I’m not telling a perfect stranger where I live. I’ll meet you somewhere.
Dario: Six pm at Yukhaejang.
I’ve never heard of the place.
I quickly Google the name and see it’s a restaurant. Going back to my messenger app, I send Dario another text.
Eden: I’ll be there.
Dario: Just so there’s no misunderstanding, it’s a date.
I stare at the words, torn between feeling excited and worried.
A date with Dario La Rosa.
What am I doing?
Chapter 8
Dario
When I leave Starbucks, I glance up the street and see Eden walking right past the ballet company.