Chapter 9 - The First Time Adrian AskedA year after the night of the mirror, Emily no longer called him Mr. Moretti.
Usually.
When irritated:
“Adrian Moretti.”
When very irritated:
“Mr. Moretti.”
Michael found this hilarious.
Lucy was four.
She had begun preschool.
She told classmates Adrian owned “a really big truck company and too many suits.”
Accurate.
One evening, Emily finished reviewing estate budgets and headed for the door.
Adrian stopped her.
“Dinner?”
She looked toward the dining room.
“I already ate.”
“No.”
He suddenly looked uncomfortable.
Emily understood.
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
“You’re asking me out.”
“I am attempting to.”
“Poorly.”
“I negotiate acquisitions more easily.”
“I believe that.”
Then she became serious.
“I work for you.”
“I know.”
“That matters.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want my job attached to the answer.”
“It isn’t.”
“And if I say no?”
“Tomorrow you remain estate operations manager.”
“And Lucy?”
“Still steals strawberries.”
Emily smiled.
Then:
“One dinner.”
Adrian nodded.
“One.”
Their first date lasted three hours.
No bodyguards at the table.
No Moretti restaurant.
No private club.
A small Italian place Emily chose.
Adrian hated the wine.
Loved the pasta.
Lucy stayed with Mrs. Hale.
Nothing dramatic happened.
Which was precisely why Emily liked it.
Their second date happened a month later.
Then a third.
Slowly.
No rescue narrative.
No billionaire sweeping a housekeeper into luxury.
Emily kept her townhouse.
Her salary.
Her career.
Her decisions.
Adrian kept working to turn Moretti Logistics into something Lucy would never need protected from.
That was the only relationship either of them wanted.
May you like
One where leaving remained possible.
Because choice only means something when the door is unlocked.
