BAD →WORSE→ THE BEST (mxm)

Chapter 5. The Rules of The Game (Sky)

   "Sorry, I didn't have time to eat breakfast. This one is for you."

   My future boss smiles apologetically and pushes the tray towards me, after devouring five sandwiches. There is only one left, a mini portobello mushroom burger with a delicious looking toasted crust. Giulia's food is always mouthwatering, not something one would give up easily. I cast a glance at the small culinary masterpiece but shake my head and push the tray back. There is no way I am going to put this in my mouth. My stomach is already acting up. Too much stress in one morning.

   "If you insist." Jason shrugs and snatches the food, as if being afraid that I might change my mind.

   Yeah, with that hot body, what is there to worry about? His impressive pecs are clearly outlined under the tight shirt. Besides, he will always be drop dead gorgeous, regardless of his weight. Why can some people eat as much as they want with no consequences? Why am I not one of them?

   Jason tilts his head curiously. "So, you are Roman? That's awesome. I didn't know it. I am not surprised, though. You do look a bit like Augusto di Prima Porta*"

   (* Augusto di Prima Porta - a full-length, marble statue from 1st century AD, a portrait of Augustus Caesar - the first Roman Emperor. It was discovered during excavations in 1863 in the house of his third wife Livia.)

   The look of utter shock and confusion on my face must be hilarious as he bursts into rapturous laughter, almost spitting out the burger, which he managed to stuff into his mouth in two large bites.

   "Mi dispiace, Sky! Non avrei dovuto farlo (Sorry, Sky! I shouldn't have done it)," he barely rasps through coughs and cackles. "You should have seen your face. Oh, my God! I was just joking. You must admit that the guy is not bad looking at all. That was a compliment."

   "I was born in New York," I point out, putting an end to any speculation about my connection to the Roman Empire.

   "Oh, really?" Jason seems genuinely surprised. "What made you cross the Atlantic?"

   "My mom married her Italian boyfriend when I was ten," I explain. "No one asked me if I wanted to move."

   "Ah, I see." There is sympathy in his voice. "Mine did the same. Married my dad, I mean... but I wasn't born when it happened. She's from Denver. I've never been there. My grandparents passed away and she left for Europe. There is nothing to pull us back."

   A tiny, almost invisible trace of sadness flashes in his eyes, making them look like two deep oceans of black velvet, and then disappears as suddenly as it surfaced. I gulp heavily. The butterflies in my stomach, the racing heart, everything is just like before, in Vienna. At least, he talks to me now.

   Jason studies my face for a few minutes and suddenly jumps up. "Alright, Mr. Jones. You are hired. Let's get to work."

   I can barely keep up with his pace as he strides determinedly across the vast, open space between the individual offices. We stop only after we reach the opposite side, which faces the bridges over the picturesque artificial lake outside and the lush greenery of the surrounding park area. The panoramic view of the whole EUR district with tall buildings, museums and the Square Colosseum is magnificent from this height. We are gazing through the floor to ceiling windows, standing side by side.

   "I have always dreamed of working here, at a place exactly like this one, on the top floor, and see this view every day," Jason says quietly. "But sometimes, you have to give up one thing to gain another. These are the rules of the game. You can't have it all at once. That's why you should choose carefully. Mistakes are very hard to fix."