Bridging Hearts

11. Dinner, huh?

Her

I was lost in my work, pencil tracing over the intricate lines of the office layout. The sketches were finally coming together.

I heard footsteps approaching. Dante's voice cut through the quiet, low and serious.

"Petardo."

I looked up, surprised to see him standing there. His expression was unreadable, and for a moment, I wondered if he was here to argue again.

"Yes?" I asked, setting my pencil down, ready for whatever he had to say.

He hesitated, and for a split second, he looked almost uncertain. "I wanted to apologize for earlier. I might have been too harsh."

An apology? From the 'Dante Marchetti'? That caught me off guard. "Oh," I said, trying to keep my surprise in check. "Thank you. I appreciate that."

There was an awkward pause. Dante didn't seem like the type who apologized often, and it showed. I decided to lighten the mood with a small smile. "I was half-expecting you to tell me to scrap everything and start over."

He almost smiled back. "Not this time."

I nodded, feeling the tension ease slightly. "Good to know."

"Petardo," Dante began, his tone taking on that familiar edge, "I still think you could benefit from being more open to feedback. You don't always have to push back so hard."

I felt my frustration rising again. "And you don't always have to be so controlling. It's like you don't trust me to know what I'm doing."

"I do trust you," he countered, his voice firm. "But this isn't just about you. It's about the whole company. We have to be careful."

"Careful?" I echoed, "Or just afraid of anything that shakes up your perfectly controlled world? You act like any change is a threat."

"That's not what I meant," he said, clearly annoyed. "I'm just saying we need to think things through. You can't just rush into every decision."

I crossed my arms, feeling the sting of his words. "I'm not rushing into anything. I've put a lot of thought into this design. Maybe you're the one who's too afraid to take a risk."

His jaw tightened, and I knew I'd hit a nerve. "You're oversimplifying things. It's not just about taking risks—it's about making the right decisions for the company."

"And you think I'm not capable of making the right decisions?" I challenged, my voice rising. "Maybe you're the one who—"

"Dinner," he cut me off suddenly, the word leaving his lips almost like a command rather than a suggestion.

I blinked, thrown off by the abrupt shift. "What?"

"Dinner," he repeated, as if he was trying to convince himself of the idea. "Maybe we should discuss this over dinner."

For a moment, I just stared at him, completely caught off guard. The intensity of our argument had suddenly shifted into something else, something I couldn't quite grasp.

Dante seemed just as surprised by his own words, his usual composure slipping as he stood there, waiting for my response.

Him

The moment the words left my mouth, I realized my mistake.

Dinner. I had just asked her out to dinner. Not as a professional courtesy, not as a casual suggestion—but in the middle of an argument, where the last thing I should have been thinking about was spending more time with her outside of work.

For a few seconds, I stood there, frozen, unable to comprehend what had just happened. My mind raced, trying to backtrack, to find a way to explain it away, but nothing came to me. The silence between us grew heavier, and I could feel the weight of my own words hanging in the air.

What the fuck had I just done?

Her eyes widened in surprise, and I could see a flicker of amusement flash across her face. Oh no. She wasn't going to let this go, was she?

"Dinner, huh?" she said, a playful edge to her voice. "Is that your way of trying to win the argument?"

I felt a rush of heat creep up the back of my neck. Damn it. Why did I say that? "That's not... I didn't mean... I just—" I stammered, struggling to form a coherent response.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "Didn't mean what, Mr. Grump? Didn't mean to ask me out?"

I couldn't meet her eyes. This was a mess, and the worst part was, I had no idea how to fix it. My usual composure, the cool, controlled exterior I prided myself on, had completely deserted me. I was standing in front of her, feeling like a fool, and she was taking full advantage of it.

"Look," I finally managed to say, trying to regain some semblance of control, "it just... slipped out. We were arguing, and I—"

"And you thought dinner would be a good way to smooth things over?" she interrupted, her smile widening. "Interesting strategy, Mr. Marchetti."

The way she said my name, with that hint of playfulness, made my pulse quicken. I was supposed to be irritated, supposed to be finding a way to back out of this gracefully, but instead, I found myself drawn in by her teasing.

"It wasn't... I didn't mean it like that," I muttered, knowing full well I wasn't convincing either of us.

Tara crossed her arms, tilting her head as she studied me. "So, what exactly did you mean, then?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out. What was I supposed to say? That I didn't know why I'd asked her out? That it was some absurd, reflexive response because I couldn't handle the fact that she was getting under my skin? Or that I was struggling with the fact that she was Arjun's little sister, six years younger, and completely off-limits?

Desperately trying to salvage the situation, I added, "I mean, it's not like I'm asking you out on a date or anything. It's just a friendly dinner—no strings attached, just... an opportunity to talk outside of work. If that's something you'd be interested in."

She raised both eyebrows, clearly amused by my attempt to downplay it. "Friendly dinner, huh? You're really selling it as an effort to smooth things over?"

I felt a twinge of frustration but mostly embarrassment at how my attempt to clarify had just made things worse. "Exactly. Just a chance to clear the air. We don't have to make it a big deal."

Tara's smile widened, clearly enjoying the sight of me floundering. "Sure, Mr. Grump. If you say so."

She took a step closer, the proximity heightening the tension between us. "So, if you're really serious about this friendly dinner, I'm free tonight."

Her words caught me off guard, and I looked up, meeting her gaze for the first time since my accidental slip-up. There was a challenge in her eyes, but also something else—a curiosity, maybe even a hint of interest.

I should have backpedaled, should have found a way to gracefully decline and return to our usual boundaries. But instead, I stood there, rooted to the spot, my mind and body at odds with each other. The rational part of me was screaming to retreat, to remember who she was and the implications of pursuing this. But another part, a part I didn't want to acknowledge, was tempted by the idea of spending more time with her outside the confines of work.

And so, without fully understanding why, I nodded. "Okay," I said, the word feeling strange on my tongue.

Her smile widened, and she gave me a small nod, as if we'd just agreed on the most ordinary thing in the world. "Great. I'll see you at seven, then."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, completely bewildered by what had just happened.

As I watched her go, I couldn't help but feel a mix of dread and anticipation. What had I gotten myself into? This wasn't supposed to happen. She was Arjun's little sister, not someone I asked to dinner. But now, I'd done it, and there was no taking it back.

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