Armani and I stand in each other's presence, me more rigid than before as he leans back comfortably against the lift wall with his arms crossed. His gaze pierces into the side of my face - scanning, examining and studying every inch of me as if he was trying to piece something together in that mind of his.

I stare down at my black pointed heels, ignoring his gaze as best I could. All I wanted to do was snap my head at him and declare it was rude to stare. I couldn't lose my composure – the man was powerful in his own right.

Whilst travelling up to the thirty-fifth floor, the lift stopped four times to be exact by Asterio's employees and as soon as the door opened, the employees didn't step inside but stated good morning to Mr Armani and each time he replied back with a blank Morning.

Was this some sort of rule? To not be in the same elevator as your boss. At least he was courteous.

He breaks the ice first, "How did you say you knew Asterio again?" he inquires, his eyes still focused on me.

I blink, turning to meet his gaze. "I didn't?" I respond, sounding unsure of myself. He scratches his bread, waiting for me to continue. "Uh–We met mutually through a friend and I just need to discuss an urgent matter with him. I didn't have his number." I shrug, wanting to cut the conversation short.

The explanation should suffice for him and he shouldn't have the need to ask me anything more.

"Mutually?" he pesters on. I bite my lip, it wasn't a lie technically. Yes, we met because of Theodore and because he crashed his car into mine. It was more mutual than I thought. I hum at his response.

He smirks, immediately calling imposter's bluff but at this rate, I couldn't care less. Let people think what they wanna think. Armani doesn't believe me one bit. "Pardon me, it's just that you look familiar?" he states, his lips turning. "Maybe I've seen you somewhere? At an event perhaps? You just look familiar." Panic starts creeping up my face, red immediately shrouding me.

Were the walls closing in on me? Were they? I remind myself to stop. No one knows me. No one knows me, it's highly impossible. I shake my head, disagreeing with him and laugh, "We live in London and it's a big city. You might've seen me in a crowd or something. But yeah, Mayfair is not my area. I reside in Peters," he nods, agreeing. The lift dings, the black screen stating we've arrived on the thirty-fifth floor.

Amani fixes himself up, propping straight and leads the way for me. We enter into another large lobby, glass, steel and all sandstone. The same aesthetic and decor as before. Asterio must be a neat freak. I make a mental note that he adores appearances more than anything.

We stop by another desk - this time, there sits only one woman, typing away on her laptop. Her eyes flick up at the sound of footsteps, her lips plastering with a huge grin when Armani smiles at her. I claim I like her immediately and she's beautiful with her olive-brown skin tone and precisely applied makeup. She's dressed immaculately in a black shirt and skirt to match with her black hair pulled back into a chignon.

"Aisha, is Di–" he stops, correcting his form of address. "Mr Asterio free right now?"

Her eyes gloss behind Armani and she studies me with an air of fascination. "I've got Miss Isabella Romero to see him," Armani provides, nodding at Aisha as some sort of confirmation.

She passes him a knowing smirk gazing down at her laptop screen before her brown eyes dart up. "Yes, Mr Armani. He's all free right now. Right through the double doors, Miss Romero," she gestures to her left.

I take a deep breath calming down my nerves and graciously thank them. As I begin my descent to the double doors, I can feel Armani and Aisha's eyes penetrate my head from behind, examining my every move.

Here goes nothing. I push open the doors and enter Asterio's large office space, the smell of coffee greeting me.

"Aisha, I told you to cancel all my meetings before lunch." Asterio snaps harshly, muttering a spiral of profanities under his breath. "The board has me wrapped in wires. I'm fucking helpless." he huffs.

He's sat in his office chair with his back turned, facing the glass window that has a picturesque view of London. On his desk, sits a french press coffee brewer with half the jug empty and right next to it, sits a half-drank mug of coffee.

I wonder if he drinks out of stress because right now, he clearly sounded like it and he's wrapped in his own bubble of turmoil.

"No, Bella," I state, correcting the name usage.

He snaps around immediately, shifting his entire body and chair around. For a second, he looks astounded but even before I can determine what he feels like. His lips plaster with a smirk and he snaps shut a manila file that lies in his hand, propping it down before him.

His full attention is on me. "Miss Romero. What a pleasant surprise," he flashes me a genuine smile, leaning back in his seat, admiring the view in front of him. His eyes trail down to my attire, and there's a slight nod of approval of him. "Please take a seat," he gestures to the two single cream sofas in his luscious office.

I follow, sitting down on the sofa and cross my right leg over my left, sitting rigidly and feeling out of place.

"What brings you to my office?" he inquires nonchalantly, his eyebrow arching in wonder.

I narrow my eyes at him as a warning and he simply props his fist underneath his chin, clearly enjoying it far too much. I just want to smack the enjoyment out of him. Today, he's dressed in a peanut-coloured waistcoat with a sharp white shirt and dark tie to match, albeit his blazer he still manages to look mesmerizing.

I fist my hand into my pocket and fish out the key, I place it down on his desk. It clangs as it meets the dark wooden surface, sending some objects like his pen bouncing. I push it towards him, discarding it firmly and letting go of it entirely.

"I believe this belongs to you." he gazes down at the key in wonder then smirks. He returns to meet my gaze, propping his head up and a dark strand falls from his hair.

He doesn't make the effort to move it away and it drives me a little irritated. He opens his mouth to say something but I hold my finger up, stopping him firmly in his tracks. "No, let me speak."

He gestures for me to speak or forever hold my peace. "I thought I made myself clear last night? I want nothing to do with you and this morning I woke up with a package addressed to me with flowers and a car?"

The billionaire doesn't look mildly flustered nor unfazed, yet the blues in his eyes twinkle with amusement. "Your point, Miss Romero?"

"Don't think you can buy my forgiveness with your money."

He leans back in his chair, hands resting behind his head and ankle on knee. He's resumed the 'CEO' position – a habit he's picked up from working, subtlety indicating he's one in control and forcefully reminding I'm talking to the now-owner of Asterio Industries. "Isabella," he muses out, his expression moulded away from the once playful smile he had on to a serious face. He's directing me as if I was one of his employees.

I don't like it one bit.

"Bella," I corrected him.

He pauses, his lips pressing and sending me a disapproving eyebrow for interrupting him. "Bella," he says my name again. I try to ignore the fact that I actually like my name coming from his mouth – there's an edge of rasp, softness, some sort of maddening, sickening devotion and I can't seem to stay away from it.

"I'm not a dickhead," he states bluntly, catching me off-guard at the use of profanity from his tongue. Oh, he can talk dirty.

"As I stated last night, I felt as if I owe you. I'm the reason your car was totalled and I simply felt guilty about it so I was merely fulfilling my part and repaying you back." He explains, matching my gaze intensely.

I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. For a second I believe his words, he's being truthful and honest.

No, no, no. He's no good. "That doesn't excuse the reason how the hell you found my address and scrambled the scene that night because you wanted to avoid a media scandal. You don't think I've heard about your playboy-esque scandals?" I retort back, brutally. My pulse was throbbing and I could feel the rage of anger starting to swarm my skin.

He merely smirks at my comment before resuming, "I think everyone's heard about my so-called nonexistent playboy-esque scandals," he mimics my words. He watches me blankly as I begin to scowl at him once again, stabbing him at least twenty times in my mind.

His eyes are filled with mirth and he's practically basking in the glory of rebuking a myth. The asshole was enjoying himself.

"Yes, I was desperate that night and I needed to scramble pronto. You can surely understand my reasoning behind it – the media have eyes everywhere and are able to twist words and scenarios so easily. Is it a crime for me to go out one night to party with my friend because it was his birthday? No, I don't think so." His tone is challenging and he defends his actions.

I feel bad now. I was so quick to judge him. Maybe there was more of him than his money and shrewd interests. "And you asked me how I found your address? I drove past your flat last night just enough to see you walk in and I happen to know Nico – he used to work for Asterio Industries. Was a bodyguard at the front lobby and simply asked him."

I freeze upon his confession. I wasn't dreaming nor was I crazy for seeing a black car that looked similar to his. And Nico? That's what the security guys name was! "I had no bad intentions towards your privacy Miss Romero. I was simply wanting to be courteous and kind," he concludes.

"Fine," I grit, understanding his pathetic, well-presented reasoning. "Next time, I don't care whether it's Tom, Dick or Harry and if he worked for the company beforehand but he doesn't anymore. He now guards the Marina Hill flats – which doesn't give you the right to stomp in whenever and ask for a personal piece of information such as an address." I huff out, trying to remain as formidable as possible. He actively listens to my words, nodding to everything I'm saying with his jaw locked in place.

"That is my personal data and can place me at risk."

"I understand your concerns, Miss Romero," he mutters under his breath for fashion but I get the feeling doesn't care as much.

"Good, Mr Asterio." I narrow my eyes at him. He drags his right hand through the locks of his hair, ruffling it in the process. Yeah boy, you better be sweating. "Please feel free to delete my address from your mind and do not contact me again. Otherwise drastic measures will be taken against you and I do not care who you are," with that said, I arise from the seat. I can feel my legs feel hollow beneath me – god, how long had it been since I stepped into his office? Twenty-something minutes and I already feel and look like a mess.

I turn on my heels, ready to leave the billionaire behind and not turn back.

"And how exactly are you getting home?" Asterio remarks behind me. I turn to meet his amused face. The key I placed on his desk dangles from his index finger as he taunts it before me.

"Lucky us for living in London. It's also a tourist destination and cabs are not that hard to find," I sweetly flash him a smile, unable to hone the sarcasm that drips from my lips. "You know, in the same way, I did the night you crashed my car,"

His expression flips immediately, his smile fading. That got him good. He arises from his seat, walking around his desk and marching purposefully towards me. He stands a few feet away from, making me look up at him.

"Just keep the car, Bella." He sighs exhausted. "Consider it a... a loan." He states.

"A loan?" My face contorts. "So I can be liable to you all my life? No thanks Dimitri Asterio," I say his name in a tinge of disgust like it's poison in my mouth. He takes a deep sigh, shifting in his weight, his right hand meeting his waist.

I know... I know I shouldn't look... I shouldn't admire the way his biceps contorts with the action underneath his white shirt. But I do and just when I've begun to compose myself, pink flushes my cheek.

I can sense he regrets the choice of his words as his thumb and index finger meets the bridge of his nose, mentally holding himself together.

"Why are you so stubborn?!" He remarks. His gaze lingers on me for a second.

"I'm not," I reply in all my honesty. "I'm simply maintaining my peace and have a zero policy for bullshit."

His jaw tightens and he stares at me with something stirring deep inside of him like it's bubbling away with boiling disaster and ruination. I can't seem to decipher what he's thinking but from the way he's looking at me – hungrily, carnally, calculative.

He's predicting, predetermining and having so much zest doing so at the expense of my silence.

Dimitri Asterio promises nothing good and at that moment I decide I want it all.

He reaches out, opening my hand and placing the key down before wrapping my fingers around it. "Keep it," it's a command, an order. He gently pats my hand. "It is a gift from me to you," he picks his words carefully this time.

I gawk at the piece of metal that lies in my palm now, then at Asterio. His eyes are glistening with hope.

"I can't," I state.

"Please," and I obey, pushing it down into my coat pocket and crossing my arms over my chest.

He hasn't won this battle yet even though he mustered up a charming victorious grin on his face.

"I hate you," I firmly declare.

He blinks before his grin stretches from ear-to-ear. He laughs at my sudden response, it's melodic, deep and richly soothing. It makes me feel funny. Sending my stomach erupting with tiny blue butterflies that have now found a home. I realise that I could listen to it forever – laugh unfiltered and for me.

He playfully frowns at my words, pretending to be hurt as his hand meets his heart. "That hurt me," his eyebrows knit together, trying his best to keep the facade up.

The eyeroll comes out when I'm least expecting it, "Boohoo, how's Dimitri Asterio possibly going to continue working now that my comment has impacted him? That obviously won't work." I shrug, mocking him.

He licks his top lip slowly and I simply watch the sight, mentally scowling myself for the jolt of electricity that shoots up my chest. He leans in closer to my ear, his warm breath tickling the base. "Don't worry, I'll be the one putting in the work and I promise once I'm done with you, you wouldn't be able to walk for a week straight." he winks at me. Unabashed, unfiltered absolutely shamelessly with a wide grin.

My mouth is left open as my cheeks begin to flourish pink and stare at him astounded – claiming and begging that my ears have deceived me.

The worst part? I believe every word that falls from his sinful mouth.

He shouldn't make me feel this way – but he does. He makes me feel like I'm high off a euphoria rush, something so deep and intoxicating knowing I won't be able to recover from it. It's crazy how I've only met this man a handful of times and my body is already beginning to betray me.

¡Controlarte, Bella!

I recompose myself and scoff. Quite frankly, I'm disgusted he's beginning to exceed any sort of professional boundary that we've established.

The disdainful tone erupts out, calling him a "dickhead" behind me and storms out of his office. As the door closes behind me, I can hear the eruption of laughter that he's busied himself in. Asshole, asshole. Fucking prick.

I pace past Armani and Aisha, passing them a hardened glare. I hate Dimitri Asterio, I hate his office, and I hate this company.

Armani and Aisha, who were once enveloped in a low murmur of conversation, simultaneously crane their heads towards me, surprised that I'm leaving in such a rush.

I jab my fingers into the button, wanting the lift to arrive already. It opens and I waste no second in stepping inside and pressing the button for the last floor. The last thing I witness before the door closes is Armani and Aisha frowning at me before I watch Armani disappear into Asterio's office.

————