Chapter 7 Challenge To Ethics

• The office was spacious and elegant. It was decorated with designer furniture and contemporary artworks, creating a sophisticated and modern atmosphere that reflected the success and forward-thinking vision of Hamilton Hotels.
• — Are you planning to stay here, Miss Rasetti? — he says to me with a playful smirk. — If you’d like, I could give you a photograph so you can admire me whenever you wish — he adds mischievously.
• His slightly deep voice makes me shiver, and I immediately feel my cheeks flush.
• I shake off my thoughts and regain my composure, stepping forward until I'm in front of him.
• —I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare or be rude.
• —Don’t worry — he replies cheekily — I tend to have that effect on women.
• That arrogant comment was unnecessary. I feel irritation rising and clench my fists at my sides to avoid hitting him for his cocky attitude.
• —I mean, I was hoping to find Mr. Hamilton — I hurry to say.
• —And you’re looking at him. — he replies.
• I notice he’s using a familiar tone and gestures to come closer. My instincts take over, and I step back.
• — You’re not Mr. Richard Hamilton — I tell him while crossing my arms.
• — No, darling, let me introduce myself, I’m Adrien Hamilton. — he says, extending his hand to me cordially. — Richard Hamilton is my father.
• He continues to use the familiar form, even as I try to keep my distance, addressing him formally. I shake his hand and feel an electric jolt run through my body. My gaze is fixed on our handshake, and when I finally look up, his eyes are on me, with an expression of surprise and confusion.
• I immediately withdraw my hand, realizing he’s so close that I can feel his breath brushing against the strands of my hair, sending shivers down my spine.
• He takes a step back, looking at me with curiosity and… desire?
• I get nervous and shift my weight from one foot to the other, searching for something to say to ease the tension beginning to fill the room. He walks around the desk and sits down.
• — Please, take a seat — he kindly invited, pointing to a comfortable leather chair in front of his desk, and I notice his voice has taken on a slightly deeper tone than before.
• I follow his instructions, but I have to force my feet to move to sit in front of him.
• — Could you tell me why Mr. Hamilton didn’t come to the meeting? — I ask curiously.
• — My father had a last-minute commitment. Anyway, you were supposed to have a meeting with me, as I’m the one interested in having the restaurant become part of our hotel chain.
• For a moment, I see a fleeting glimmer in his eyes. I wonder what could be behind his interest.
• I notice he has gone back to addressing me formally, which is appropriate in this case, but I feel an uncomfortable sensation in my stomach.
• — Well, then let’s skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point — I hurry to say.
• After searching through his portfolio, I hand him the folder with the contract specifications. He takes it and begins to read. I take the opportunity to examine him closely. His hair is a bit long but perfectly styled. His slightly full lips seem to have been drawn by none other than Leonardo da Vinci himself. He has a goatee that adds an air of maturity, making him even more attractive and sexy.
• My mind starts to wander, imagining how it would feel to have his mouth exploring every inch of my bare skin.
• — I suppose you have a vivid imagination, and your thoughts are quite well illustrated, as you’ve managed to blush — he says, pulling me out of my daydreams, causing my blush to deepen even more.
• —I apologize, I don’t usually get lost in my thoughts. — embarrassed, I try to avoid his gaze and focus on my feet.
• — Don’t worry, Miss Rasetti. Although I must admit you’ve piqued my curiosity, since you were looking in my direction when you blushed.
• — It has nothing to do with you — I say, but my voice is barely a whisper.
• — As you wish, Miss. I won’t insist if that’s what you prefer.
• I sigh lightly and try to control my emotions. After a few minutes, he speaks again.
• — I agree with the terms of the contract. If it’s alright with you, I’ll have my secretary schedule an appointment to sign the relevant documents — his voice had taken on an executive tone.
• I nod in agreement. Since the meeting is over, I stand up.
• He also stands up and walks around the desk until he is right in front of me. My heart begins to race at feeling his presence so close. His woody scent with a hint of vanilla completely envelops my sense of smell.
• — I would like you to accept my invitation to dinner on Sunday — he says with absolute seriousness.
• — I don’t think I can — I reply in a whisper.
• "Why does this man make me feel so vulnerable when he’s near?" I think to myself.
• — Why? Are you going to church? — he comments, raising an eyebrow.
• — No, it’s just that I shouldn’t go out with you, as it would be unethical — I respond, looking into those brown eyes that are beginning to envelop me.
• — What’s wrong with that? Besides, once the contract is signed, we’ll be seeing each other frequently.
• — I know, but it will be in a professional setting.
• — Are you afraid of what might happen? — he adds playfully.
• — Maybe… — I say in an almost imperceptible murmur.
• — You shouldn’t be; nothing will happen… — I notice he leans in a bit closer and looks at me with a playful grin. — Unless you don’t want it to. — he adds.
• I feel his hand take mine, and the sensation of electricity returns, coursing through me. Then, bringing my hand to his lips, he places a kiss on it, making me tremble.
• — Please, Isabella, — he says, switching back to the familiar form. Then I discover that I like how my name sounds when he pronounces it — give me the chance to get to know each other.
• My mind races, wondering if accepting his invitation is a good idea. The fact that I feel excessively vulnerable in his presence scares me, not to mention what I feel when he looks at me or takes my hand. But on the other hand, it’s the first time I’m experiencing these sensations, and I can’t help but wonder what comes next.
• — Alright. I accept to have dinner with you, Mr. Hamilton.
• — Please, call me Adrien.
• I find it endearing how he looks at me when asking me to call him by his name.
• — Alright, Adrien. — I say, emphasizing his name. Saying it gives me butterflies in my stomach.
• — Thank you, Isabella; you won’t regret it.
• Suddenly, I experience a feeling that suggests otherwise.