something?”
She shook her head slowly. “I would never think of you as my father. Or the least bit old. And you’re definitely not too old for me, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
His expression instantly grew deadly serious, his voice raspy. “Is that a fact, Miss Del Carlo? Well, you are just a whole lot of very pleasant surprises, aren’t you? What’s that you’re drinking?”
Somewhat taken aback by the rather abrupt way he tended to segue from one subject to another so quickly, she glanced down into her nearly empty glass. “Vodka tonic. Though the vodka isn’t my preferred brand.”
“And what would that be?”
“Absolut Citron. On the rocks.”
Nick smiled, taking the glass from her suddenly nerveless fingers and setting it aside. “The coincidences just keep piling up, don’t they? That’s almost always what I drink, too. And then, of course, there’s the coincidence of our first names.”
She gave him a puzzled look. “My name is Italian while yours is Greek. At least, I assume Nick is short for Nicholas.”
“It is. But I wasn’t referring to their ethnic origins,” he corrected. “Has anyone ever called you Angel? As a nickname, of course.”
Her pulse rate seemed to be jacking up another degree with each passing moment. “N-nno. Just Angie.”
Nick shook his head. “Not Angie. That doesn’t suit you in the least. But Angel definitely does. And, well, many people aren’t aware of this but Nick is sometimes used as a nickname for the devil – Old Nick, to be precise. So, here we are then – the Angel and the Devil. Rather poetic, don’t you think?”
She stared at him, too shocked and too enraptured in equal measures to think of anything remotely intelligent to say. Instead, she stammered clumsily, “But you – what about – I work here!”
He gave her a knowing smirk, as though he knew exactly how unsettled he was making her feel. “Are we back to that again? Very well, it’s true. I’ve never dated a co-worker before. Too messy, too complicated, and way too invasive of the privacy I insist on having in my personal life. But this is different. You’re different. Enough so that I’m going to break my ironclad rule and ask you to have dinner with me tonight.”
She gasped and knew that her jaw must have dropped open in shock. “You – you are?”
“I am. I have. So, what’s your answer?”
“Yes.” She replied without the slightest hesitation, afraid that if she stopped to think about it too long that she’d wake up and realize this had all been a dream.
Nick looked pleased, satisfied, and maybe even a bit relieved. “Good. I hate when women play games. Unless, of course, they happen to be a particular kind of game.”
But before she could even begin to think up a witty reply – hell, any reply – to that very deliberate taunt, Nick had pulled a business card and pen from the inside pocket of his superbly tailored suit jacket.
“Here.” He handed her the card, on which he’d written a name and address in a bold script. “Meet me in half an hour. I’ll leave first so that we don’t give the gossip mongers in this place more fuel for their nosy little fires. God, how I hate that shit.”
She took the card, unable to suppress a little shiver at the sound of disgust in his voice. “Are you – I mean, is it okay for you to leave so soon?”
Nick gave a hoot of laughter. “Let’s put it this way. There’s not a single person here who’s got the balls to tell me otherwise. And that includes our spineless excuse of a CEO. In other words, Angel, I can do whatever the hell I please. Don’t be late, hmm?”
And with that he walked out of the room without a backwards glance for anyone, flat-out ignoring those who attempted to approach him, including one of the higher-ups from corporate headquarters.
It was only after he was out of sight that she glanced down at the little card clutched so tightly in her hand. Even though she’d only been
She shook her head slowly. “I would never think of you as my father. Or the least bit old. And you’re definitely not too old for me, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
His expression instantly grew deadly serious, his voice raspy. “Is that a fact, Miss Del Carlo? Well, you are just a whole lot of very pleasant surprises, aren’t you? What’s that you’re drinking?”
Somewhat taken aback by the rather abrupt way he tended to segue from one subject to another so quickly, she glanced down into her nearly empty glass. “Vodka tonic. Though the vodka isn’t my preferred brand.”
“And what would that be?”
“Absolut Citron. On the rocks.”
Nick smiled, taking the glass from her suddenly nerveless fingers and setting it aside. “The coincidences just keep piling up, don’t they? That’s almost always what I drink, too. And then, of course, there’s the coincidence of our first names.”
She gave him a puzzled look. “My name is Italian while yours is Greek. At least, I assume Nick is short for Nicholas.”
“It is. But I wasn’t referring to their ethnic origins,” he corrected. “Has anyone ever called you Angel? As a nickname, of course.”
Her pulse rate seemed to be jacking up another degree with each passing moment. “N-nno. Just Angie.”
Nick shook his head. “Not Angie. That doesn’t suit you in the least. But Angel definitely does. And, well, many people aren’t aware of this but Nick is sometimes used as a nickname for the devil – Old Nick, to be precise. So, here we are then – the Angel and the Devil. Rather poetic, don’t you think?”
She stared at him, too shocked and too enraptured in equal measures to think of anything remotely intelligent to say. Instead, she stammered clumsily, “But you – what about – I work here!”
He gave her a knowing smirk, as though he knew exactly how unsettled he was making her feel. “Are we back to that again? Very well, it’s true. I’ve never dated a co-worker before. Too messy, too complicated, and way too invasive of the privacy I insist on having in my personal life. But this is different. You’re different. Enough so that I’m going to break my ironclad rule and ask you to have dinner with me tonight.”
She gasped and knew that her jaw must have dropped open in shock. “You – you are?”
“I am. I have. So, what’s your answer?”
“Yes.” She replied without the slightest hesitation, afraid that if she stopped to think about it too long that she’d wake up and realize this had all been a dream.
Nick looked pleased, satisfied, and maybe even a bit relieved. “Good. I hate when women play games. Unless, of course, they happen to be a particular kind of game.”
But before she could even begin to think up a witty reply – hell, any reply – to that very deliberate taunt, Nick had pulled a business card and pen from the inside pocket of his superbly tailored suit jacket.
“Here.” He handed her the card, on which he’d written a name and address in a bold script. “Meet me in half an hour. I’ll leave first so that we don’t give the gossip mongers in this place more fuel for their nosy little fires. God, how I hate that shit.”
She took the card, unable to suppress a little shiver at the sound of disgust in his voice. “Are you – I mean, is it okay for you to leave so soon?”
Nick gave a hoot of laughter. “Let’s put it this way. There’s not a single person here who’s got the balls to tell me otherwise. And that includes our spineless excuse of a CEO. In other words, Angel, I can do whatever the hell I please. Don’t be late, hmm?”
And with that he walked out of the room without a backwards glance for anyone, flat-out ignoring those who attempted to approach him, including one of the higher-ups from corporate headquarters.
It was only after he was out of sight that she glanced down at the little card clutched so tightly in her hand. Even though she’d only been
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