Kitchen Affairs

By: Brooke Cumberland

I grabbed my wallet and rushed out of the freezer sprinting right past my group. I figured now was a good of time as any to take a break and head right to Mr. Stagliano’s office myself.

Yeah, and demand my stuff back! Or maybe, I just wanted to see that sexy smile again.

I took the elevator up to his office and walked to his receptionist’s office. “I need to speak with Mr. Stagliano, Drake Stagliano, please,” I insisted.

I’m going to show him whose boss!

I was determined to get my belongings back, however; I suddenly felt very nervous to see him again.

“Do you have an appointment, Miss?” his receptionist queried, surprised by my authority.

“Molly Woods,” I continued for her. “No, I don’t, but Drake, I mean, Mr. Stagliano has something of mine, and I want it back,” I fumed, keeping my stance. She didn’t glance up at me as she turned to her phone and dialed. After a moment, she hung up and escorted me into Drake’s office.

“He’ll be right in Miss Woods.” The receptionist motioned me to take a seat at his desk as she shut the door. His office was the size of my entire apartment. It was the ideal bachelor pad, although I’m sure he didn’t live here, it was just ridiculous that an office had to be so stunning. Televisions, chairs, couches, mini bar… Hmm… couches?

I jumped as the door opened, startled by my own thoughts wondering. Drake walked in with a huge grin on his face showing off his perfect white teeth. I stared at him for a moment before I realized I needed to be pissed off. Was I pissed off? Yes! Yes, you are dammit!

“Miss Woods, what a surprise!” he beamed as he walked towards me. His half smile totally read that in fact, he was not surprised at all. He was wearing a black three-piece suit with a silver vest and tie. Damn, he looks good. He came around to his desk sitting down nonchalantly like he had no idea why I would be there. In his office… Dammit, why must he be so dreamy?

“Molly,” I announced, hoping he’d finally get the hint. “Mr. Stagliano,” I tried to continue, but were sidetracked as his eyes pealed me away from the conversation. “It appears you have something of mine. I want it back,” I demanded. He was still smirking at me as if something was funny that I wasn’t getting.

“Miss Woods,” he turned his chair to look directly in my eyes. “I mean, Molly,” he heckled. “I will graciously give you whatever you want, but not until tomorrow night. 8pm.”

Wow, he is full of himself…

“And if I don’t go?” I questioned, knowing the answer already.

He shrugged as if he didn’t believe my hesitation, “I guess you go without.” Jackass.

“Fine,” I caved and sneered at him. “What should I wear?”

“A cocktail dress will suffice,” he answered with authority. “8pm. Don’t keep me waiting.” He started to stand up as to usher me to the door. Damn him.

I hesitated to stand up when he did, because I was shocked at his bluntness. Instead of ushering me out the door, he sat casually on the corner of his desk staring at me.

“Why dinner?” And why with me?

“You stated we didn’t know each other, Miss Woods. I want to change that,” he said looking directly into my eyes.

“Alright then, Mr. Stagliano. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow night then.” I stood up and headed for the door. Drake stood up and ushered me to the door. He gently placed his hand around my waist guiding me through the door. I trembled as he hand met my bare skin.

Holy shit…

“Until tomorrow night, Molly,” he whispered in my ear as I was leaving. I shivered as his lips brushed close to me and walked out.



“So who’s the lucky guy?” Michael grinned as he me watched me get dressed.

“I’d rather not say.”

God I hope this dress is sexy enough. Do I want it to be sexy? Ugh, shut up Molly.

“Oh. My. God. Don’t tell me… Drake?” Michael inched closer to examine my dress. I rolled my eyes at him and he definitely knew. “Drake. Thee Drake Stagliano?”

“Yes. He’s making me have dinner with him in order to get the contents of my wallet. Bastard,” I replied as I put my stilettos on and grab some earrings. If I was going to be forced to eat dinner with this man, he may as well be tortured by looking at me knowing he can’t ever have me.

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