I hold the door knob for a beat too long then open it to see a man. Average height, brown curly hair and botched skin.
“Boss said you might need your phone,” he says blankly without meeting my eyes. Are all the staff afraid of eye contact?
“Thank…” my voice trails off as I watch the guard walk away without looking back. I fiddle with my phone in my hands as I shut the door. Dominic had forcefully collected it after our conversation yesterday.
At least I have my phone now, even though I doubt anyone would call me. The only time my phone rings is when Elena needs something or, on very rare occasions, Melanie. Now, with Elena God knows where and Melanie no longer having any use for me, my phone will become useless. But, suddenly, as if I jinxed it, my phone rings.
Dread twists my gut as I glance at the lit screen, and my father’s name comes into view. The nerves in my body still and my vision blurs momentarily.
Why would he be calling me?
The phone continues to buzz in my hand as I watch it—with contempt…fear. Then, when I summon the courage, I pick it.
Cautiously, I place the phone to my ear and hold my breath. There’s slight rustling on his end before he speaks.
“Bella…” his voice is strained…soft. I furrow my brows. Now this is strange. I swallow tightly.
Silence stretches, then he continues, “I-I-I don’t know what to say.”
I don’t either. I’m confused. The only thing I can think of is that he was in a bad accident and hit his head.
“No. It’s uh…there’s a lot to say. Can we talk over coffee?”
It feels as if everything pauses. My stomach twists in knots, confusion.
I don’t want to see his face. Or listen to what he has to say.
“No.”
He sighs. “I knew you’d say this. And I understand. The things I’ve put you through…but all I’m asking for is one chance. Hear me out, and you can decide to shut me out forever after this.”
“Caffè Milano by 1 p.m. I’ll be waiting…but I won’t blame you if you don’t come.”
I end the call, a range of different emotions coursing through me. But amidst it all, there’s curiosity. And I let it lead me.
In no time, I’m out of the bath. I throw on one of the silk blouses and skirts the maid just unpacked and walk out of the room, making my way down the hall in search of Dominic. Apparently, his permission is needed before I can leave.
The sun burns my back when I step outside to see him in the field. A few men are standing stiffly as if waiting for a command. A short, square faced man is showing him something on a paper. He barely notices my presence until I clear my throat.
“It can wait,” he says without looking at me.
Does he ever take a break from being an asshole?
I ball my hands into fists as I move closer to them, making sure to still keep some distance between us. “We need to talk,” I blurt out, ignoring the surprised looks the men throw me.
He pauses and with a flick of his finger dismisses all the men, including square face. Then he turns fully to me. My breath catches in my throat.
The casual T-shirt he’s wearing sticks to his chest, highlighting his perfect pecs. His short hair is rough and messy, and inked muscles strain beneath his skin as he fists a paper. Gosh, he looks—
Never mind.
“I’m here to seek…permission,” I say, although the words come out a little sarcastically.
He gives me a once-over and rumbles in what I believe is approval of my outfit. I hate that he’s satisfied. But that’s an issue for another day.
“For what?” he deadpans.
“A meeting.”
