CHAPTER 195: DINNER INVITATION [CHRISTIAN POV]

"Come in," I said as I looked up from my documents.

The door to my office swung open, and like every time before it, I hoped that it was Leslie who was standing on the other side.

Blake walked in, giving a short bow. "Sir, I just got a call from the Patriarch of the Moresi family. He’s requesting your presence tonight."

I lifted my eyebrow and placed the documents on the desk in front of me. "Oh? Very well. Thank you for letting me know."

Blake nodded again and excused himself.

The office fell silent once again.

Why would he suddenly invite me after being relatively silent these last few weeks?

Georgio never did things without a reason. There was most likely something he wanted to butter me up for.

My eyes flickered over to the small pocket door. It was strange to get the invitation from Blake and not Leslie. Invitations were always sent through her in the past.

Maybe she isn’t aware of it either?

I didn’t dwell on it too much. Instead, I felt a tinge of excitement. Visiting the Moresi mansion meant that I would be able to see Leslie again.

It was almost the night of the secret auction event. The night that would hopefully prove everything.

---

My phone buzzed in my pocket, reminding me of an after-work meeting that had been rescheduled.

"It’s this late already?" I mumbled, massaging my temple.

Every day, it seemed like there were more and more projects happening. While this was a good thing for the company, I felt myself beginning to wear thin.

That, in addition to my nightly investigations and preparations for the event, I don’t remember the last time I had a good night’s rest.

I quietly gathered all of my materials on my desk, organizing them only enough so that it didn’t look like a complete disaster.

"Let’s see what the Patriarch of the Moresi family wants from me this time," I said as I walked out of my office.

My initial plan was to head over right away, but as soon as I sat down in my car, I hesitated. I glanced at my reflection in the small overhead mirror.

I should probably go home and change.

Since I would be seeing Leslie, I wanted to make sure that I was looking my best. And having made my decision, I drove off back to my house.

-

About an hour and a half later, I was all showered and changed. It didn’t usually put so much effort into trying to make myself look good, but there was something inside of me that really wanted Leslie to want to look at me.

Everything about her still drew me to her, and I hoped that I could have a similar effect on her. I was already suffering from nightmares where she told me she was with Lucas. Maybe these nightmares were just a projection of my internal fears, but there was a constant panic in the back of my head that I couldn’t ignore.

I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. I was wearing a new, all black suit, and my hair was slicked back. The only thing remaining was to pick out a watch.

As soon as I opened my drawer that contained my watch collection, my eyes immediately gravitated to a certain watch that was in the center of my collection.

I lifted the watch, brushing the top of it gently with my fingertips. The lone sapphire in the center twinkled back at me, causing my mouth to curve up into a faint smile.

This was easily my favorite and most treasured watch in my entire collection. I looked at it a little longer, making sure to see the beautiful rose engraving on the back before putting it on.

On my way out, I spritzed myself with my usual cologne.

-

As I made my way down the staircase, I ran into Jonathan, who looked at me strangely.

"You look very handsome tonight. Are you going out, sir?" he asked.

"Do I really look that different?" I asked curiously.

He nodded, "Yes, sir. You look very put together."

I flashed him a smile, "Perfect. That’s what I was hoping." And with a happy tune, I grabbed my keys and walked over to the black sports car that was parked in front of my house.

The entire drive over to the Moresi mansion, my mind was only filled with thoughts of seeing Leslie. I didn’t even care what sort of scheme her father had up his sleeve; just seeing her would be worth it.

-

"Welcome, Mr. Vittoria. Please enter." The head butler of their mansion greeted me respectfully, motioning for me to step inside.

I nodded back with a small smile and took a step inside. I wasn’t even fully through the doorway when I felt something crash into me at high speed.

"Christian! I missed you so, so much!" Morgan said in her slightly annoying, fake high-pitched voice. Both of her arms were tightly wrapped around my arm, as she clung to me like a koala.

I smiled thinly, disengaging just enough to walk.

"Miss Moresi. Always a pleasure. How have you been?"

She clung tighter. "Absolutely wonderful now that you’re here. When Father told me you were coming, I almost fainted from joy!"

I doubted that...

She practically dragged me through the marble-floored hallway toward the dining room, her heels clacking in a rhythm that matched my growing headache. "Come, dinner is almost ready!"

Inside, the table was already set. Expensive dishware and cutlery decorated the table along with other items like flowers and candles. Servants kept walking in and out, carrying various flasks and pitchers.

"Ah, Christian! Thank you for coming."

Georgio rose to greet me, wearing his most convincing father-of-the-year smile. He extended his hand like we were old friends.

I shook it, noting how quickly his other hand gestured toward my usual chair.

"Please, sit. We had something special prepared tonight. I hope you’ll enjoy it."

Special meal. Special smile.

Yep. He definitely has something he wants from me.

I sat down, sitting beside Georgio. But my eyes flicked across the table and paused.

Leslie’s seat was empty.

Morgan noticed my glance and gave an overexaggerated laugh. "Oh, don’t mind her. Leslie thinks she’s an artist now. She’s got these private lessons every day. It’s practically a full-time obsession."

There was something sharp in her smile. Jealousy with a layer of smugness.

My eyes darkened.

Is it really an obsession?

"She’s not even that good," Morgan continued, almost offhandedly. "I always did better than her in our previous painting class. But she loves pretending she’s some tortured genius."

I barely heard what Morgan was saying. This meal was no longer interesting to me without Leslie.