"Your clothes. They bother me. 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐟𝐟."
~
Marriage was not for love -it was for business. It was a strategic move that one had to make wisely. For the Lombardis and the Morettis, this marriage was the most calculated, showstopping...
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Roman arrived at his office building, frustrated that work had come in the way of what was supposed to be a nice breakfast between him and his wife. He noticed the slight frown on her face when they had to leave the restaurant in such a hurry and the sight almost made him say fuck it and tell his assistant to deal with the problem herself.
He walked into his building, a cold look on his face as he walked straight to his private elevator. Pressing the top floor to his office, he ground his back molars together in annoyance. Walking through the doors once he opened, he saw his assistant, Jade, and her equally annoyed expression.
"He's over there. Refuses to leave," Jade sighed, typing away on her computer. Roman looked to the waiting area and found the man sitting there, talking on the phone. Roman walked over to him, an unimpressed and annoyed look on his face.
"Davenport," Roman looked him up and down. The man in question glanced at him before talking into his phone once again.
"That's all I have, Angie. See you at Friday's meeting," Davenport hung up his phone. He got up from the chair, standing up to be at eye level with Roman. Both men were tall and similarly built but one was more arrogant than the other.
"Moretti, nice to know you still can't be on time to save your life," Dexter Davenport smirked, mocking him.
"It's nice to know that you still show up in places where you are not welcome," Roman rolled his eyes.
"You call it security, I call it a challenge. I like challenges," Dexter shrugged, walking into Roman's office like it was his. Roman clenched his fists, already tired of his bullshit.
"I hear you got married. What poor woman did you have to bribe and how much?" Dexter chuckled, taking the liberty of sitting on Roman's couch overlooking the city. Roman maintained his calm as he sat behind his desk, wishing Davenport could see his way out.
"What do you want?" Roman monotoned, forcing himself to ignore the jab at him and Angeline.
"Straight to the chase, I see. I'm starting a non-profit for women in STEM and I need money. Wanna give me money?" Dex grinned at him, putting on his best behavior.
"Ignoring the fact that you could've put that in an email, you have money. A lot. Why do you need mine?" Roman signed papers, not bothering to look at him.
"I've already put in four million. This will look good on Moretti holdings and you need a tax write-off anyway," Dexter convinced, helping himself to the good whiskey Roman had in a decanter in the corner of his room.
"Put it in an email and maybe I'll think about it. You can leave now," Roman rolled his eyes.
"You got it, pal. I'm taking this with me," Dex began walking out of his office with a glass full of whiskey in his hand. Roman rolled his eyes at the man leaving his office and wondered how someone as rich as him and immature could be his age.
