Interviewing the Italian (BWWM interracial)

Chapter Seven - Leeches, Loose Lips and a Family Reunion

I stayed in my room after that.  I had known last night that today was not a work day.  I spent most of the afternoon trying not to bite my nails. The idea that a dress was conveniently picked out for me made me feel like I was in one of those grocery store novels about the billionaire’s mistress.   I looked around as I took it out and laid it across my bed.   Shit, I guess I was in one of those novels.  I ran my hands across my face. I was restless, irritated, and, even though I wouldn’t admit it to August, I was scared.  I have never in my life been in this type of situation and was just plain scared. This was not a scared to get on a rollercoaster type thing. Oh no! This was full fear.   Perhaps the fear stemmed from having to be prim and proper and try to act natural in a dress that was as sheer as gossamer wings.  

I took a long leisurely shower, and got dressed in that barely there black dress. I wondered how had he known it would fit?  Then I scolded myself for not remembering that August had a complete file on me and knew how I liked my coffee, it wouldn’t be difficult to figure out what size I wore.  At this point in the game, did it matter? I took the time to spiral curl my shoulder length ebony tresses and let them freely fall about my face. Make-up applied, stilettos on, I gave myself another brief glance over my shoulder, blew a kiss from my burgundy stained lips and sashayed out of my room.  I made it to the foyer without slipping, skidding or falling in those damn shoes. I didn’t do thin heels, and for sure I didn’t do thin heels on highly polished marble floors.  August was already standing there with his back towards me, which gave me time to study his profile.  He was dress in a black suit, Armani no doubt; I didn’t think the man owned anything else. His shoulders filled out the jacket just enough to make it a snug fit.  I could smell his spicy but sweet scent. It was Kenneth Cole Black, I knew; I had spent enough time with my nose in magazines to have sniffed a few cologne samples.  I cleared my throat so I could get a look at the front of him. He turned and his eyes opened wide, and then a hint of a smile came to his gorgeous lips.  He looked like a lion about to attack a gazelle. I tried to meet his gaze and succeeding at staring at the top of his tussled hair. He looked like he never heard of a brush or hair product.  I put my hand on my hip and struck a sassy pose. I was trying to calm down enough to make it out the door. Yet, the dress he picked out for me made me feel like this charade was a fragile as a soap bubble and could pop at any moment. 

“You are right on time.” August said as he walked towards me with a black box. I could not help to think about Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the jewels type.  I had a frown on my face but when he opened the box, they weren’t jewels. Although one was a diamond looking broach and the other item looked a hearing aid. I looked up him with a quirked eyebrow.  What the hell was this? He smirked and seemed to read my mind.

“You have a right to look puzzled. This is my latest project.  The software thing from the interview, that was not what is really the top priority.  I am pinning you with a broach that is also a microphone and a mini recorder.  The other item goes in my ear. I will hear everything even if I am not next to you.” August said, matter-of-factly. Now here was the business like man I was accustomed to. When he wasn’t flirting or kissing my forehead or putting my hand where the sun doesn’t shine, he was sane.  

“Ok, so this is just embassy people? No technology people right?” My eyes were huge. I don’t know why I didn’t think that I could run into my peers if there were any ‘techies’ running around.

“No, just those with Italian ties in positions of wealth. Why?” He looked very concerned.

“Um hello, I am not some hermit, I have friends, colleagues, peers. If they saw me with you, my career, not to mention this sham is going to blow up in our faces.”  I said as I tapped my foot. I didn’t realize that he had started to hold my waist somewhere in my tirade.  How did his hands get there?