Page 28 of Cinderella-ish
Chapter 13
Daniella
Iwas nervous as fuck,yet I doubt neither Antonio nor Jonah noticed. In fact, I rocked the hell out of that presentation and, as soon as I get home, I’m totally making waffles tocelebrate.
It’s been a pretty quiet ride to Antonio’s house as he and I both seem to be consumed by our own private thoughts. Me, over the excitement of helping plan the fashion show. But I’m not certain I’d be able to guess what’s on Antonio’s mind. He’s a bit mysterious, honestly. Although, in his defense, that’s the case with most creative types. Lord knows, I’ve been referred to as mysterious plenty oftimes.
Stealing a surreptitious glance, I try to study hisexpression.
Fail.
I can’t make out a damn thing through his darksunglasses.
Mysterious or not, I’m thankful for the opportunity to work with him. He seems to be less of a jerk to me with each passingday.
He turns onto Sunset Blvd and drives west before coming to a crawl approaching a black irongate.
Antonio slides his designer shades on to the top of his perfectly styled hair. “We’re here. My humbleabode.”
The gate creeps open, and Antonio zips through the opening and up a long cobblestone-lined driveway before parking at a hasty angle in front of a row of three garage doors. And to the left of the garage doors sits a stunning, white, two-story, Mediterranean-stylevilla.
He kills the engine and jumps out of the car, wanders over to my side, and opens my door. He leans in slightly. “Um, Daniella…youokay?”
A fleeting pause lingers between us as I stare, in awe, at hishouse.
“Yeah, sure. It’s just…your house. It’sgorgeous.”
He lifts a brow and chuckles. “It’s alright.” He takes my hand, politely aiding me, as I step out of the car and onto the driveway. “Come on. I’ll give you the grandtour.”
The two of us climb a flight of stairs, leading up to the embossed double-doorentry.
“Holy shit, Antonio,” I let out once inside. The entry hall is majestic, showcasing a grand sweepingstaircase.
He slides my tote bag off my shoulder and hangs it on the coat rack by the doorway. “People have said many things as they walk in…but I’ll grant you none have saidholyshit.”
His blue eyes brighten as he stands in front of me, peering down to meet my gaze. He’s much taller than I am, even while wearing these five-inch stilettos, that are actually killing me rightnow.
“Mind if I remove my shoes?” I say, just as I begin to extract myself fromthem.
He opens his mouth to answer, but I’m already barefoot, playfully wiggling my newly manicured toes, as I stand before him more miniature-sized than I was only secondsago.
“Not at all…nice toes.” He laughs. “Come on. Let’s begin thetour.”
He gestures for me to follow and I do so, allowing my eyes to canvass the sophisticated yet modern décor of all things black andwhite.
My feet feel cold walking behind him on the marble floor, as we walk past an ebony-colored, rectangular accent table that holds a small collection of crystal vases. Above the table hangs a large, framed black-and-white photo-collage of famous Hollywood movie directors. I feel my stare widen as I walk past it, then I bump into the backside of Antonio who has apparently stopped at the base of the sweepingstaircase.
Turning around to face me, Antonio grabs ahold of my arms, his grip soft yet firm, as I clumsily lose my footing. “Whoops. You alright there? Lucky for you I’m not holding a jelly donut this time.” He looks down at me and winks when our eyes meet. “I, uh, figure we can begin your tour upstairs, then finish downstairs before we look at thedesigns.”
I nod in anticipation as excitement, as well as total embarrassment, has captured my ability tospeak.
Upstairs, Antonio takes me through six bedrooms and four bathrooms, all decorated in the elaborate black-and-white theme that I’ve now gathered is flourished about the entire home. Most of the bedrooms have windows with magnificent views of nearby Century City and the PacificOcean.
We come to a double door and, before opening, Antonio explains. “This is my room, so please excuse the mess.” His mouth slips into a playful grin as he goes on. “The bed is never madeand—”
“Antonio. Seriously? It’s just a bedroom.” I laugh at his spiel and roll my eyes. Then turn the doorknob and let myselfin.
My eyes survey the space that’s gotta be at least a thousand squarefeet.
