Web Fic
81
Samantha
I place the tray with coffee and cookies on the corner of Franco’s desk, and leaving his office, I take a seat behind my computer.
Where was I?
I read the last couple of lines, then continue typing the letter I have to send to the bank before ten a. m.
“Morning, Miss Blakely,” Franco suddenly mutters before heading into his office.
What the hell?
I get up from my chair, and following him into the chamber of wrath, I place my hands on my hips and scowl at him. “What was that?”
“What?” he asks as he shrugs off his jacket and hangs it over the back of the chair.
“Morning, Miss Blakely,” I do my best impersonation of him.
He does something weird with his eyes and gives me a chin lift, which only makes me frown more.
“You don’t get to be a grumpy asshole anymore,” I say as I walk closer to him, and jabbing my finger in his chest, I continue, “You don’t get to fuck m–”
A smile spreads over his face as he interrupts me. “We have company.” “What?”
He gestures to the door, and when I glance over my shoulder, I see Jenny with her jaw practically on the floor.
“Shit,” I mutter before turning away from Franco and walking to my friend.
Grabbing her hand, I pull her to the boardroom.
The moment I shut the door, she shrieks before gasping, “What?
Ahhh…” She shakes her head. “What did I just see?”
I let out a sigh as I take a seat at the table. “I’m dating Franco.” “Oh, you’re on a first-name basis with him?”
“Of course.” I shake my head at her. “He’s my boyfriend. What else would I call him?”
She slumps down in a chair, looking a little stunned. Giving me an unsure look, she asks, “You’re really dating Mr. Vitale and not just hooking up for casual office sex?”
“We’re in a committed relationship,” I say.
Her jaw drops again, then she asks, “When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s complicated.” Not knowing what else to say, I throw Franco under the bus as I lie, “Franco wanted to keep it a secret until we were official, so I couldn’t tell you.”
“How long have you two been dating?” “A week.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “So it’s still pretty new.”
“We’ve been official a week but have been talking about it for a month or so.”
She glances through the windows at Franco’s office, then looks back to me. “The other women are going to be so freaking jealous when I tell them.” Shaking her head, she gives me a confused look. “I thought we hated him?”
“We kinda did,” I chuckle. “He’s actually very different when you get to know him.”
She leans forward as if I’m busy giving her the inside scoop of a lifetime. “Different how?”
“Well, he’s kind and caring.” I lean forward as well. “He’s actually pretty amazing.”
Jenny’s features soften. “You look smitten with him.” “I am,” I chuckle before I admit, “I love him.”
“Damn, he must be good in bed if you love him after a week of dating.”
Laughter bursts from me. “Like I said, it’s complicated. I can’t tell you everything.”
Her eyes grow bigger. “Oooh, did he make you sign an NDA?” Taking the out she gives me, I nod. “Yes.”
“Shoot.” A smile forms on her face again. “Will he be your plus one to my wedding?”
“Definitely.”
Her smile widens, then she playfully slaps me on the knee. “Damn, girl, you landed yourself a billionaire.”
Shaking my head, I say, “It’s not about the money.” “I didn’t say it was. I just think it’s cool.”
I hear the phone ring and tap the button on my earpiece to answer the call. “Mr. Vitale’s office. Samantha speaking.”
“Do you need me to save you?” Franco asks.
My mouth curves up. “No, I can handle it on my own.” “Okay, baby.”
The call ends, and I turn my attention back to Jenny. “Was that him?” she asks.
“Yes, he says you need to get back to work,” I say with a dead-serious expression.
“Shit.”
Just as she darts to her feet, I laugh and say, “I’m kidding. Sit down.”
She gives me a playful scowl. “You’ll give me a heart attack. You might be dating the boss, but the rest of us are still scared of him.” She seems to realize something, then says, “I actually came up here to ask whether you’ll go to a wedding dress fitting with me on Saturday morning.”
“Of course! Just tell me what time and where we’re meeting.”
She gets up from the chair. “I better get back to my desk. I’ll text you the details for Saturday.”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.
“Okay.” Then I remember Via. “Oh, Franco gave me a bodyguard. Her name is Via. She’ll be with me.”
Jenny looks stunned for a second. “A bodyguard? Why?” I shrug. “Franco’s protective of me.”
“So freaking lucky,” she mutters as she walks to the door. “We’ll talk some more later.”
When Jenny heads back to the elevator, I walk to Franco’s office.
This time I shut the door behind me so we don’t get caught by any other employees.
“How did it go?” he asks from where he’s sitting behind his desk. “She’s surprised but seems happy for me.”
I walk closer and say, “I’m going to a wedding dress fitting with her on Saturday morning.”
The corner of his mouth lifts as he asks, “For yourself or Miss Hoffman?”
“Duh, for Jenny. Who am I getting married to?” “Me.”
I raise an eyebrow at him and cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t remember you asking me to marry you.”
“I’m asking you now.”
I give him a have-you-lost-your-mind look. “No.” His smile grows wider. “No, what?”
“No, I won’t marry you,” I mutter. “Why?”
I turn around and walk to the door. “Because your proposal sucks.” Leaving his office, I take a seat at my desk and get back to work.
A few seconds later the phone starts ringing, and seeing it’s an internal call from Franco’s office, I answer, “It’s still a no from me.”
Hanging up, I work hard to suppress the smile.
My cellphone vibrates, and opening the screen I burst out laughing when I read the message.
Franco: I’m spanking your ass tonight for hanging up on me. Are you finished with the letter?
Samantha: I look forward to it, and yes, give me five minutes, and I’ll bring it to you so you can sign it.
Standing in Franco’s state-of-the-art kitchen, I grate cheese because whoever does the shopping apparently doesn’t know you buy shredded cheese.
Franco’s stirring a tomato-based sauce for the pasta we’re having for dinner.
“Who does the grocery shopping?” I ask.
“Milo,” Franco murmurs as if he’s deep in thought.
I glance over my shoulder. “And the cleaning?” “I have a cleaning service come in twice a week.”
Franco’s stirring the sauce slowly, a far away look in his eyes.
I place the cheese on the counter, and going to stand next to him, I ask, “Is everything okay?”
He glances at me. “Yes. Why?” “You seem preoccupied.”
He shakes his head. “It just hit me how good it is to have you here.” He lets out a deep breath. “Doing something as simple as preparing dinner with you.”
I lift my hand and rub it up and down his back. “I’m enjoying it too.” “I’d like to make a habit of it. Us cooking dinner while talking.” Smiling at him, I murmur, “I’d like that very much.”
He leans down to steal a kiss before he checks the sauce and moves the pan from the stove.
We’re quiet while we dish up, and when we’re sitting at the island with a glass of wine, I mention, “Did I tell you I have a house in Houston?”
He nods and swallows a bite of pasta.
“I want to go back there so I can pack all my belongings and hire a moving company to bring everything here.”
“I can send some men to Houston to take care of it for you,” he offers. “Really? You don’t mind?”
“Of course not. I’ll have them bring your belongings to my house.” He reaches across the marble top and gives my hand a squeeze, then he asks, “What are you going to do with the house?”
“As soon as it’s cleared out, I’m selling it.”
Feeling like a weight is being lifted off my shoulders, I admit, “I actually dreaded going back to Houston.”
“It’s understandable, baby. If you want, I’ll take care of selling the house.”
I give him a grateful smile. “I’d appreciate it. I just want it all over with so I can put that chapter of my life behind me.”
“Do you have the title deed?” he asks.
I shake my head. “It’s at the house. I didn’t take anything but a bag of clothes when I ran.” Wanting to change the subject, I ask, “You don’t mention the mafia much. How are things on that front?”
“Good.” A smile tugs at his mouth. “I took care of the person who ordered the attack on us.”
My eyebrows lift. “You did? When?” “Yesterday.”
“Did you…” I let the sentence trail away. Franco’s eyes lock with mine. “Yes, I killed him.” “Is it okay if I ask you about things like that?”
He nods. “Of course. I have nothing to hide from you, baby.”
I take a sip of my wine, then Franco points at my plate and orders, “You skipped lunch. Eat, baby.”
I take a few bites, then ask, “So what kind of mafia business do you do?”
“Counterfeit notes and transporting contraband goods.”
“Oh.” I tilt my head. “I expected something more…violent.”
He lets out a chuckle. “So me killing the head of the Slovak mafia isn’t violent enough for you?”
I shake my head. “I was talking about your illegal businesses.”
Franco changes the subject by saying, “I’ve noticed all your clothes are here. Does that mean you’ve moved in?”
I let out a burst of laughter. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
He nods. “If it were up to me, you’d never return to the apartment.” I was going to tell him later, but now is as good a time as any.
“I’m handing the keys back to the landlord tomorrow.”
Franco stops eating and locks eyes with me. Slowly, a smile spreads over his face. “So you’ve moved in with me?”
Giving him a grin, I nod. “Yes. You’re officially stuck with me.”
Abandoning his food, he gets up, and walking around the island, he frames my face with his hand and kisses me hard. Lifting his head, he says, “You’ve just made me the happiest man in the world, baby.”