Page 57
Story: Resolute
I give her a pointed look.
“Of course, my bad. This way, please,” she says all flustered, and I could kick myself for being an arsehole with everyone. I could have definitely told her in a nicer way
I just hope my arseholery won’t scare Camila away.
Camila squeezes my hand. When I look at her, she has a scowl on her face.
“You can be nicer, you know? It doesn’t cost you anything.”
“Oh, you mean you want me to stop being adicktator?”
I smirk as her eyes widen and her cheeks turn a deep shade of red.
This woman is definitely going to keep me on my toes, and I’m enjoying it more than I should.
She releases my hand and smacks me on the chest.
I bark out a laugh that has everyone in the restaurant looking at us. Camila looks mortified, but I couldn’t care less. I’m done abiding by the rules of a society that has a stick shoved up its arse.
All my life, I’ve been the perfect picture of a proper man.
Always following the rules.
Always trying to be the best while helping others.
And how has that helped me achieve my goals?
My father managed to throw in a ridiculous rule for me to get what I’ve been raised to do.
Now, I can only take charge of the vineyard if I get married—which is the reason why I’m here.
If I have to get married, at least I’m going to enjoy it.
And I’ll do itmyway.
As I take a seat across from her, the waiter arrives with water and the menus. Camila asks for the crab ravioli, and I order the ribeye with roast potatoes and wild mushrooms.
“We’ll have a bottle of Pérignon as well,” I tell the waiter as he departs.
“Champagne?” she asks.
I shrug with a smile on my face. I need a little liquid courage to ask her to marry me. For all the bravado I have when dealing with businesses, I’m really nervous to hear a no from Camila’s mouth.
“By the way, I need to apologize for calling youdicktator. I didn’t mean for anyone to hear me, least of all you,” she says, gulping her water down, clearly uncomfortable by the term she anointed on me.
I bite my cheek to stop the grin that wants to break free on my lips.
“Don’t apologize. I find it hilarious. I’m sure I’ve been called worse—but you are right, never to my face.”
Clearing my throat and adjusting my tie, I decide there’s no time like the present. I'd rather tell her my plan now than wait until there’s food around and she decides to toss the pasta in my face.
“As you know, I spent the past month in Chile at my father’s request.”
She nods and takes a sip of her water.
“My family’s end goal has always been me taking charge once my father retires. Being the oldest of three. It was always assumed it’d be my duty to carry on the Godoy legacy.”
“And your father is ready to retire?”
“Of course, my bad. This way, please,” she says all flustered, and I could kick myself for being an arsehole with everyone. I could have definitely told her in a nicer way
I just hope my arseholery won’t scare Camila away.
Camila squeezes my hand. When I look at her, she has a scowl on her face.
“You can be nicer, you know? It doesn’t cost you anything.”
“Oh, you mean you want me to stop being adicktator?”
I smirk as her eyes widen and her cheeks turn a deep shade of red.
This woman is definitely going to keep me on my toes, and I’m enjoying it more than I should.
She releases my hand and smacks me on the chest.
I bark out a laugh that has everyone in the restaurant looking at us. Camila looks mortified, but I couldn’t care less. I’m done abiding by the rules of a society that has a stick shoved up its arse.
All my life, I’ve been the perfect picture of a proper man.
Always following the rules.
Always trying to be the best while helping others.
And how has that helped me achieve my goals?
My father managed to throw in a ridiculous rule for me to get what I’ve been raised to do.
Now, I can only take charge of the vineyard if I get married—which is the reason why I’m here.
If I have to get married, at least I’m going to enjoy it.
And I’ll do itmyway.
As I take a seat across from her, the waiter arrives with water and the menus. Camila asks for the crab ravioli, and I order the ribeye with roast potatoes and wild mushrooms.
“We’ll have a bottle of Pérignon as well,” I tell the waiter as he departs.
“Champagne?” she asks.
I shrug with a smile on my face. I need a little liquid courage to ask her to marry me. For all the bravado I have when dealing with businesses, I’m really nervous to hear a no from Camila’s mouth.
“By the way, I need to apologize for calling youdicktator. I didn’t mean for anyone to hear me, least of all you,” she says, gulping her water down, clearly uncomfortable by the term she anointed on me.
I bite my cheek to stop the grin that wants to break free on my lips.
“Don’t apologize. I find it hilarious. I’m sure I’ve been called worse—but you are right, never to my face.”
Clearing my throat and adjusting my tie, I decide there’s no time like the present. I'd rather tell her my plan now than wait until there’s food around and she decides to toss the pasta in my face.
“As you know, I spent the past month in Chile at my father’s request.”
She nods and takes a sip of her water.
“My family’s end goal has always been me taking charge once my father retires. Being the oldest of three. It was always assumed it’d be my duty to carry on the Godoy legacy.”
“And your father is ready to retire?”
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