Mafia's Surrogate Bride Chapter 35

Aria’s POV

Victoria's finger hovered over the phone, her perfectly manicured nail poised to summon security. The small copy room felt like a trap, her presence blocking the only exit while she waited for my answer.

But how could I explain that without revealing the true nature of my arrangement with Damian?

"Time's up, darling," Victoria said, her smile sharp as a blade. "What's it going to be? A dignified exit, or shall I let security handle this the hard way?"

Before I could respond, she continued, her voice taking on that perfectly modulated tone that managed to be both professional and condescending. "Actually, I've been thinking about your little situation, and I have a theory about why you're really here."

I turned to face her, clutching the papers like a shield. "I told you, it's personal business—"

"Oh, I'm sure it is." Victoria's smile was razor-sharp. "Very personal. The kind of personal that involves young women like you showing up at corporate offices with... expectations."

Heat flooded my cheeks as her implication sank in. "It's not what you think—"

"Isn't it? Because from where I stand, you look exactly like the type who might convince herself she has some kind of special connection to a man like Damian Cavalieri." She leaned against the desk, her posture casual but her eyes calculating. "Let me guess—you met him at a club? Had what you thought was a meaningful conversation? Maybe even shared a dance or two?"

"You don't understand—"

"Oh, darling, I understand perfectly. You're not the first delusional girl to show up here thinking she could parlay a brief encounter into something more substantial. But here's what you don't seem to grasp—men like Damian don't form attachments to women like you."

The words hit like physical blows, each one designed to strip away what little confidence I'd managed to gather. But before I could respond, she continued.

"Speaking of which, I need you to run an errand." Victoria straightened, smoothing down her dress with practiced efficiency. "There's a coffee shop three blocks down—Romano's, I believe. I need you to pick up Mr. Cavalieri's usual order. Double espresso, no sugar, and make sure they use the Ethiopian beans."

I stared at her. "You want me to... buy coffee?"

"Is that a problem? I assumed someone in your position would be grateful for any opportunity to make herself useful." Her tone suggested this was perfectly reasonable. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer to continue sitting here pretending you have legitimate business with the head of a major corporation."

The assumption was clear—she thought I was here for a job interview, that the folder in my arms contained a resume rather than the most important documents of my life. The mistake should have been corrected, but something in her demeanor warned me that revealing the truth would only make things worse.

"I'm not here for employment," I said carefully. "I have personal matters to discuss with Mr. Cavalieri."

"Personal matters? How... interesting." She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And what exactly do you think gives you the right to claim personal business with him?"

"I—"

"Because let me make something very clear, sweetheart." The endearment dripped with venom. "Damian Cavalieri doesn't have personal relationships with random girls who wander in off the street. He has standards. Expectations. A certain... caliber... of woman worthy of his attention."

She gestured to herself with subtle pride, the implication unmistakable. "So whatever pathetic little fantasy brought you here, whatever delusion made you think you could simply walk into his world and demand his time, I suggest you abandon it immediately."

"Now," Victoria continued, "about that coffee. The address is on this card, and I expect you back within thirty minutes. Try not to get lost—I'd hate to have to explain to Mr. Cavalieri why his afternoon has been disrupted by incompetence."

Twenty minutes later, I returned with the coffee, my cheeks still burning from the barista's knowing look when I'd stumbled through Victoria's complex order. The elevator ride to the forty-second floor felt like ascending to my own execution.

Victoria was waiting by the reception desk, checking her watch with theatrical impatience. "Finally. I was beginning to think you'd gotten confused by basic navigation."

Before I could respond, the elevator opened again, and Damian emerged. Even in this sterile corporate environment, his presence commanded attention. His charcoal suit was perfectly tailored, his dark hair immaculate, and those dangerous eyes swept the reception area with the kind of awareness that missed nothing.

"Mr. Cavalieri," Victoria practically purred, her entire demeanor transforming as she glided toward him. "Perfect timing. I was just... managing a small situation."

His gaze found me immediately, taking in the coffee cup in my hands and my obvious discomfort. Something flickered across his features—amusement, perhaps, or recognition of the power game being played.

"I see," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "And how exactly has this situation been managed?"

"Oh, just ensuring that unexpected visitors understand the proper protocols," Victoria replied smoothly. "Some people seem to have rather inflated ideas about their importance."

I cleared my throat, deciding that if I was going to be humiliated, I might as well do it with some dignity intact. "Your assistant has been... thorough... in explaining the hierarchy around here."

Damian's eyebrows rose slightly, and I caught what might have been the ghost of a smile. "Has she? How conscientious of her."

Victoria moved closer to him, carrying the coffee tray with hip-swaying precision that transformed the simple task into something resembling a mating display. "Your usual Ethiopian blend," she said, leaning over his desk to set down the cup. The position showcased her figure to maximum advantage, her dress riding up just enough to be provocative without being crude.

"Down to the last detail, as always," Damian replied, and the warmth in his voice made something twist uncomfortably in my chest.

Victoria straightened slowly, her hand lingering on the desk beside his. "I do try to anticipate your needs."

The words carried layers of meaning that made my face burn with embarrassment and something I refused to examine too closely. Whatever relationship existed between them, it was clearly intimate in ways that went far beyond professional courtesy.

I cleared my throat again, more forcefully this time. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but weren't we supposed to discuss business?"

"Business," he repeated, the word carrying just enough emphasis to remind everyone present of exactly who held the power here. "Yes, I believe we were."

He stood with fluid grace, adjusting his cufflinks with the kind of casual elegance that spoke of absolute confidence. "Victoria, please hold my calls. Miss Rossi and I have... personal matters... to discuss."

Victoria's perfect composure cracked just slightly, a flash of something—jealousy? suspicion?—crossing her features before she recovered. "Of course. Shall I reschedule your three o'clock?"

"That won't be necessary. This shouldn't take long."

Damian gestured toward his private office, and I followed on unsteady legs, my folder clutched against my chest like a shield. The space was everything I'd expected—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, furniture that cost more than most people's cars, and an atmosphere of barely contained power that seemed to emanate from the man himself.

"Please, sit," he said, settling behind his massive desk with the kind of casual authority that made me feel like a supplicant before a king.

"Before we proceed," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the tremor in my hands, "I have some questions about the terms."

Damian leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled as he regarded me with those dark, unreadable eyes. "I'm listening."

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I was about to propose. "Regarding the method of... conception. Medical technology has advanced significantly. In vitro fertilization has high success rates now. We wouldn't need to... engage in physical relations for you to get the heir you want."

The words hung in the air between us, my cheeks burning with embarrassment even as I forced myself to meet his gaze. This was my one chance to maintain some semblance of dignity in this arrangement, to keep some part of myself separate from the transaction I was entering into.

Damian's expression didn't change, but something shifted in the atmosphere of the room.

"How... clinical of you to suggest," he said finally, his voice carrying a dangerous undertone that made my heart race. "And here I thought we'd already established a certain... compatibility."