Cleo Miranda Adams is a part-time clerk at a small antique shop and an aspiring guitarist. Music has been part of her life since birth. After a tough loss, she focuses on building a name for herself and doing what she loves.
Billionaire and perfecti...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Crap. Crap. Crap. I made a mistake. In front of Christopher Moretti. In front of the man who demands perfection.
Gia and I were at the bar. She was drinking, of course. "What did I do? What did I do?" I tap my head repeatedly in frustration. I need to get out of here.
"Babe, calm down; it was one note."
I look at her like she grew an extra head.
"Gia, he is a perfectionist—practically demands it. I wouldn't be surprised if he came-" I was cut off by someone clearing their throat. Please don't be who I think it is.
I turn around and see the man himself. His blue eyes pierced into mine. Up close, this man was the definition of strikingly handsome. He stood with confidence and power. His shoulders were broad, accompanied by a chest protruded in his suit. I wondered what was he hiding underne- no snap out of it! I gather whatever confidence I have left and speak.
"Good evening Mr. Moretti," I gulped and turned to face him completely.
"Good evening, signora," he looked at me with what looked like anger. He gave Gia a curt nod. His jaw was clenched, but he kept his cool. Here we go.
"Sir I-"
"May I speak with you, please? Privately?" he said in the best calm way he could muster.
I nodded slightly and looked at Gia, who discreetly fanned herself and smirked at me—not helping Gia.
I stood and followed him to a room upstairs that looked like his office. If he were a room, this would be it. Various shades of grey align the sleek walls. The most lively thing in this room is the plant in the corner by the sofa and coffee table.
"Sit." He instructed. I sat on the chair in front of his desk, waiting for him to speak.
"What is your name?"
"C- Cleo Adams."
"Miss Adams, do you know why I brought you here?" I nod.
"Yes, sir. I am so sorry. I don't-" I start to grovel, but he puts his hand up to stop me.
"Save it. No mistakes. Is that so hard for you to comprehend?" he looked at me pointedly.
"Sir, I understand that, but it was nerves. I never-" Ughh, can he just listen?
"I demand perfection, Miss Adams. What you did tonight was unacceptable, and I will not stand for it," he spoke harshly with venom clear in his tone. "You will not play here again," he simply said before standing. He can't be serious.
"Mr. Moretti, please," I stood up and pleaded for him to listen, but he wasn't having it. "It was an honest mistake."
"You can leave now." He looked at me with disgust. Is he serious right now? Has he never made a mistake in his life? I sighed and walked to the door.
I opened it to go outside but not before turning around and saying, "You know, Mr. Moretti, demanding perfection is good and all but sometimes the best and most beautiful things in life are perfectly imperfect." With that, I walked out the door and closed it behind me.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Why am I like this? It was one note, and she played it off and continued with grace and confidence. Others may have stopped playing and ran off stage. But she didn't, she finished.
"You know, Mr. Moretti, demanding perfection is good, and all but sometimes the best and most beautiful things in life are perfectly imperfect," she said before walking out the door. I sat in my chair, mulling over her words. She was right, but I didn't know how to admit it. I heard her play twice, and she already had me admitting that there was beauty in imperfection.
My need for perfection is screwing everything up again. God, I'm an idiot.
I rushed out to see if I could catch her, but it was too late, and she and her friend were already gone. Damn.
"Hey brother, you okay?" Mateo stood next to me, observing my state.
"Man, I screwed up," I told him what happened, and he straight up called me an idiot. He could see right through me.
Something about her piques my interest. She didn't stay quiet while I spit venom at her. Other women may have cowered and completely lost their voice, but she tried to explain. She was fierce. She said it was nerves, and I didn't give her the chance to explain. She's human. We make mistakes. I know that, trust me.
"Man, you have to find her and apologize. Come to think about it; I've never seen you like this before. Not even with So-"
I cut him off.
"Don't," I glared. I refuse to go back there.
Even though our first conversation was unpleasant, he's got a point. I like her.
🥰
Well someone snapped 👀👀
Ik y'all may be thinking why he reacted like that😭😭 i promise a backstory is coming soon
