Chapter 4
1944 Words
Sebastian’s P.O.V
Hours before the dinner date…
The car pulls up in front of the house. She always liked extravagant things. The fountain at the center of the compound overflows with water, the water coming out of the mouths of two fish.
Marco parks the car, and I step out, grabbing the bouquet of white roses and the chocolates I stopped to buy on the way here. I come face-to-face with two guards.
“Good morning, Boss.” They both speak uniformly.
“Is she awake?” I ask, checking the time on my watch.
“Yes, sir.” They reply, making a way in the middle for me.
I pass them and enter the house; the scent of fresh cupcakes hits me at once, and I didn’t realize until then just how much I had missed her. Entering the kitchen, I hear her whistling.
She turns towards me, “Sebastian Russo, to what do I owe this pleasant visit?” Abuela asks, pulling me to the stool at the counter.
“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” I replied.
“Nonsense! You only come here when something is on your mind.” She says, studying me.
I don’t show emotion in front of a lot of people; in fact, I only show emotion in front of my abuela. It comes with the job, being able to switch off your emotions at any time. No remorse.
“I heard you’re having dinner with Elena tonight,” She says, side-eyeing me.
“How do you know about that? I ask, wondering if she’s had people spying on me.
“You know, I have eyes and ears everywhere,” she replies. Putting a fresh batch of cupcakes in the oven. “I also heard she did not know she was getting married to you until yesterday”. She continues.
Abuela doesn’t know my father’s plan for Moretti Holdings, and he knew better than to tell her. My Abuela was very good friends with Elena’s, before she passed away 3 years ago, for reasons she wouldn't tell me other than it was her fault.
So she feels indebted to them, and always wants to do right by them. When Lorenzo Moretti came with a plea to help save his company, my abuela took it and decided to help him, but now my father is taking advantage of that alliance.
“Be careful, son you know you cannot tell her everything about the alliance,” She warns. “We don’t know how she might take it.” She tells me softly.
“I know,” I say, glancing at my watch.
5:35 p.m
“I have to get going, Abuela,” I say, standing up from the stool.
“Wait. I’ll pack some fresh cupcakes for you to give her.” She says, already putting them in a box.
“No, that won’t be necessary,” I say, wondering how I’d look showing up with cupcakes at her doorstep.
“Nonsense! You must always show up with a bouquet of fresh flowers and a gift, when taking a girl out,” she says, pushing the box in my hands.
“I’m not taking her out. This is strictly business,” I reply, grunting as I take the box from her.
“Regardless of the situation, you’re taking her out to eat. It’s a date,” she says, happily.
I shake my head, and walk out the door into the car, not before telling her goodbye.
;) 🖤 ;)
Elena’s P.O.V
I can’t stop looking at him.
Seeing him in the chapel doesn’t come close to looking at him up close.
His black, button-up shirt fits him perfectly in all the right places, with three of the top buttons undone, so I get a clear view of his chest and the gold chain tucked underneath. His hair is gelled to the side, and I notice an earring in his left ear. He has a bit of a stubble, but it doesn’t look messy, instead it gives him a sharp look. Rough. His eyes are black at first glance, but looking closer, they’re a dark shade of brown.
I hold my breath. He’s gorgeous. Literally the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
Speak! Say something, Elena. Anything.
“Hi,” I say, awkwardly. Okay, maybe not just hi. I mentally palm my face. Can the ground open up and swallow me up?
His lips form a smirk, but just like that–it’s gone, I probably wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn't so focused on his face.
“Hello,” He says, voice stern and velvety. He sounds even better than he looks.
What is wrong with me today?
“These are for you,” He continues, and I just realize that he didn’t come empty-handed. He’s carrying cupcakes, and not just any cupcakes. Chocolate-chip caramel cupcakes—my favorite. I haven’t seen these since my Abuela died.
How did he know?
I hear him clear his throat, and I come back. “Oh…right, yeah. Thank you so much.” I take it from him and go back inside my apartment to drop them.
Coming back out..
“I see you got my gift. It looks good on you. The dress,” He says, eyes going down my body, his gaze lingers on my cleavage and, I feel my cheeks heat up.
“Yeah..Thank you.” I say,trying to avoid looking at him.
“Are you ready to go? He asks, and I nod.
We go outside, and I see a limo pull up. He opens the door for me to enter, resting his hand on my lower back to guide me inside.
I shiver, feeling his rough hands on my naked back.
He gets in, and the limo starts moving. The air in the limo is thick. I look to my side, and I see him texting someone before he puts his phone in his breast pocket. Then turns toward me, and I look away.
I was very content with not having to talk to him till we get to the restaurant, but if i don’t ask this question, i won’t stop thinking about it.
I fiddle with my fingers, clear my throat, and turn toward him.”How did you know?”
“How did I know what?” he asks, turning to face me.
“The cupcakes. How did you know those were my favourites.” I ask, wanting to know.
He looked shocked, but masked it. “I took a guess,” He says, his jaw twitching.
“Oh..okay,” I say, disappointment washing over me, and turning to look out the window.
I don’t really know what i expected him to say, maybe he asked about me…which is stupid because he probably doesn’t care, for all i know, he probably didn’t even get the cupcakes himself.
I sigh. Wishing this night would go faster.
;) 🖤 ;)
The limo pulls in front of a restaurant. “L’Altare”. It’s a really tall building, sleek black facade, gold lettering spelling out the name. I didn't notice that Sebastian had already stepped out and was holding my door open until he cleared his throat.
I take his hand and admire the building from up close.
He puts his hand on my lower back, guiding me inside the building. The lighting is low and warm, casting a golden glow over the marble floors. Crystal chandeliers hang overhead. The air smells faintly of truffle, aged wine, and good food.
Soft jazz plays in the background. Not loud enough to distract. Just enough to remind you you’re somewhere exclusive. The tables are spaced apart—and I notice—there is no one else here.
He guides me down a dim hallway, coming face-to-face with two guards in front of a sleek black door. The guard opens the door, and I gasp. The lights are low and warm and cast a glow over the entire room. There is a round table, with sleek golden edges, a champagne bucket, and two chairs opposite each other. At the far end of the room, a band plays soft music.
Sebastian pulls out my chair for me, and I take a seat, him sitting down as well.
A waiter comes in. “Can I take your order?”
I look at Sebastian and find him looking at me, like he’s studying me. He hasn’t said what he wanted.
I look at the menu, and there are no prices attached to the food, so I order the simplest thing on the menu.
“I’ll have the Lasagne alla Bolognese,” I tell the waiter, looking up to find Sebastian still watching me.
Why does he keep looking at me?
“I’ll have what she’s having,” he tells the waiter. His eyes were still focused on me.
“Your food will be right with you,” he says, turning to leave the room.
We’re silent for a moment. He’s not saying anything, he’s studying me, watching me. Trying to make me uncomfortable, I guess?
It’s working, and I can't take the silence anymore.
“We’re the only ones here. Why? I ask, trying to fill the silence.
“I booked the entire restaurant for tonight.” He says, leaning back in his chair, and putting one hand on the table. I shoot a glance at his hand and notice a gold ring on his index finger.
“What? Why?” I ask, forcing myself to look away from his body and wondering why he would do that.
He doesn’t answer immediately. He picks up his glass, while looking at me, and takes a slow sip.
“Is that what you really want to ask me, Elena? Why I cleared out the restaurant to have dinner with you tonight? He asks, making me remember everything about this arranged marriage.
I sigh, the reminder hitting me like a splash of cold water. I had forgotten about it, almost blocked it out of my mind, despite it being the main reason I decided to come for this date.
I didn’t come here for romance. I came for answers.
“How did you know my father?” I ask,quietly
.
He sets the glass down with deliberate care. “I didn’t know him personally. He came around for a few meetings with my dad. I exchanged a few words with him, but that was it.” he replies.
“So they were friends?” I ask again.
His jaw tightens slightly. “I wouldn’t call them friends. Business partners”
Business partners. The words echo in my head.
If they weren’t friends…then why would my father trust him enough to tie me to this family? Why would my father want me to get married to his son? All this makes no sense to me.
A level of trust should exist before a father hands over his daughter…
…or maybe he just didn’t care, maybe it was about leverage. Maybe he didn’t even think about me at all, and only did this for himself. I look down at my hands sadly, tears filling my eyes.
Calm down, Elena. You can’t cry in front of him. You can’t let him think you’re weak.
I straighten my spine.
“You sent me the gift box,” I say, forcing steadiness to my voice. “ Which means you already knew about the arrangement.”
I hold his gaze now.
How long have you known?”
Silence. Heavy. Measured
He leans back slightly, fingers tapping once against the table. “Three years.”
The air leaves my lungs.
- Writer
