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𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 ─ 𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗
A limo pulled up to my apartment at 8pm on the dot. I roll my eyes at the preciseness then heard downstairs. I half expected Christian to be in it with me, but when I realized it was just me and the driver my heart fell a bit.
"Hello, Miss Wilson." The driver said as he pulled out of the apartment complexes. I smile warmly at him. He was older with winkles when he smiled and kind eyes.
"Hello, how was your afternoon?" I ask, he smiles in the rear view mirror.
"It was okay. Thank you, miss."
"Okay? Was everything alright?" I ask again. He shakes his head amusingly.
"Yes, everything was alright... Mr. Moretti just had many errands today." I frown.
"You don't have to call me 'miss', just call me Maria. Makes me sound too old and classy."
He laughs softly.
"Okay, Maria." He replies and it's quiet for a few seconds as he drives.
I look out the window and watch as all the city lights light up the sky. People bustle through the streets. We stop at a red light. I see a little kid with cotton candy jump into a puddle. She held both her parents hands and swung between them. I smile sadly.
"What's your name?" I ask him suddenly.
"Giovanni Russo."
"Are you from somewhere else? You have an accent." I notice the difference in his vowels from an American accent.
"I come from a small town in Italy. My family was not wealthy so I came to America to provide for them. Now because American money is worth more than money in Italy, they are rich even through I am still poor. They live in Milan now... they tell me."
"That's amazing. I bet they're really thankful." I say and he nods.
We get to the restaurant and Giovanni opens the door for me. The line to get in was long, and people were flooding the entrance. Paparazzi with cameras stood off the the side by black SUVs.
Giovanni hands me off to a waiter who leads me through the crowds. I felt like people are staring at me. Did I not fit in? Could they tell I wasn't high class? Did my dress show to much skin?
"This way, Miss Wilson." He tells me once we get inside, and surprisingly the wasn't as many people as I thought. While every table was full, it was almost dead silent expect for a small murmurs of conversation. I surveyed the room for Christian, but he was no where to be found. Maybe he was in the bathroom?
People watched as I pass, sending an unusual feeling to my stomach. I try to ignore their gazes and continue behind the waiter.
He leads me along to the back rooms which I assumed were for private dining. Of course Christian paid for a private room. As Adrian said, their family supposedly owns New York. Or however the phrase went.
The waiter reaches for the door handle and it slides open smoothly to reveal Christian sitting at a single table. He was reading the menu which he set down once I entered. He looks amused as I approach him, eyes lingering on my tight, cream colored dress. It showed a lot of skin, maybe too much, and revealed a sprinkle of freckles along my collarbones.
I cleared my throat and grabbed the menu, refusing to say the first word. He narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously, and I flicked my eyes up toward him. Crossing my legs, I accidentally brushed his leg with my foot. Oops.
"You look nice." He finally says, referring to his previous note, but I was not amused.
"Just nice?"
"Don't fish for compliments." He catches my eye and holds it there. Together we were like a game of chess. One wrong move and you lose the whole game. He was very good at chess.
"Why did you buy me this dress?" I ask him, "Why did you take me out in a limo to one of the best restaurants in New York, most expensive restaurants in New York, and pay for a private room?" I scoff, "Don't say you've done this for any other girls."
"I haven't actually." He glanced down for a second, "I've never done this for any girl." He added. It would almost be sweet if it weren't for that fact that he hadn't intended it to be. It was the truth. He hadn't ever done this for another girl.
"I invited you here because I have a proposition." He licked his lips, "A question really." I lean forward, interested in what he had to say.
"I'm listening."
"I'm in a situation-" He paused, "I come from a very wealthy family... as you know, and in my family... we have certain expectations, you could say." He furrowed his eyebrows, "I need you're help, in a way."
I think about it for a second. Then wonder why I'm even thinking about it. This was Christian fricken Moretti. Anything he asked me to do, I knew I would do it in a heartbeat.
Stupid schoolgirl crush.
"What do have in mind?" I ask nervously. I could tell he picked up on it by the way he suddenly looked up at me.
"My father recently told me that if I don't find a decent woman to... have a relationship with... in the next few months, I'll be subjected into an arranged marriage." He explains, and I sit confused on why this had anything to do with me. Yes, it was sad for him- terrible for him, but I was really interested in what this had to do with me.
"I want you to come to my family gathering this Wednesday and pretend to be my girlfriend. Just a couple times so they know I'm at least trying. You don't even have to see me any other day."
But I want to see you.
I bit my lip, and clasped my hands together. It was a hard decision. Pretending to be Christian Moretti's girlfriend? That was like stuff that happened in books or on TV, but not in real life, right? It could never work... and what if the media found out. It would rake me through the mud. I couldn't even imagine the names I'd be called for "dating" New York's hottest bachelor.
But I could also use that to my advantage.
"O-Ok." I tense as I realize the word had come out of my mouth already, "Ok, I'll do it..." I pause for a second, "B-But I need something in return," I lean forward, "Help me with my modeling. Make public appearances with me or something. Anything that'll get my name out there..."
"I can do that for you." He nods, and I feel a weight lifted off my shoulders. Maybe if he had a part in the bargain then I wouldn't feel like I was doing it for a stupid reason.
"Lovely." I murmur, looking up at him. He looks back at me, and I bit my lip, trying not to blush as I look down at a spot on the floor.
"Great." He finally says, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, "Now... let's eat."
