“This way, darling.” Giorgio leads me through the crowded ballroom and over to the bar where a group of five men stand. “Gentlemen, may I introduce Olivia Reynolds. I adore her. She recently started with Valentino and is new to Milan.”
“Hello.” They all smile, and one by one they introduce themselves and kiss me on the cheek. They’re all breaking their neck as they try to talk to me, and we fall into a conversation about my work and where I’m from. They’re all similar ages to me, and quite good looking, too. Perhaps it’s the black dinner suits talking.
Can any man be ugly in a dinner suit? I don’t think so.
Giorgio gives me a not so subtle wink before he discretely moves to the bar.
Snake. I’ll kill him later.
For ten minutes, I stand and talk politely. One man in particular named Pedro has taken a liking to me.
The group falls silent, and I glance up from Pedro to see Enrico has approached the group. “Enrico, my friend,” one of the men greets him nervously.
They all shake his hand, while I sip my champagne. His eyes eventually find mine. “Hello, Olivia.”
“Hello.”
The men’s eyes all widen as they look between us, realizing we know each other.
I try to talk to Pedro again but Enrico holds his gaze across the circle, and Pedro becomes flustered. “I’m going to the bar,” he announces suddenly.
“Yes, I’ll come,” offers another man.
“Yes, I need to get back to my table,” someone else mutters.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” another says.
Suddenly, I’m left alone with Rico. Wimps.
Enrico steps toward me. “Hello.” His voice is velvety and deep.
I squeeze my champagne glass so tight that it may smash in my hand.
His eyes drop down my body, and then back up to my face. “You look breathtaking.”
My stomach clenches. “Thanks.”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Many things.”
That damn electricity crackles in the air between us again.
“You asked me yesterday why I left you in the police station two years ago,” he says quietly.
My heart stops. “Yes.”
He opens his mouth to speak.
“Here you are.” Giorgio smiles. “Rico, darling, it’s been too long, my friend. Where have you been hiding?” He grabs Rico’s hand and kisses him on both cheeks. They hug.
“You’re interrupting us,” Enrico tells Giorgio as his eyes come back to mine.
“What’s new? I’m always interrupting you.” Giorgio laughs, and I can tell he and Enrico are friends. He isn’t scared of him like the other men are. “Olivia, our entrees are at our table, sweetheart.” He pulls me by the hand. “Goodbye, Rico, we shall talk later, darling.”
Giorgio pulls me back to our table, and I glance back to see Enrico glaring after us, unimpressed that I’ve left our conversation unfinished. Damn it, I wanted to know what he was going to say. Not that it would make any difference, but still.
We take a seat, and Giorgio smiles over at me like the cat that got the cream.
“Our entrees aren’t at the table.” I smirk. I’m not discussing Enrico Ferrara with him, but I have sneaking suspicion that he already knows.
Giorgio’s eyes hold mine. “How many times do we need to toast before I teach you the lesson, Olivia?”
“Am I a bad student?” I smile and raise my glass to his.
“The worst.”
* * *
Three hours later, I spin around on the dancefloor with Giorgio.
“Thank you for bringing me tonight, I’ve had fun.” I’m not lying, either. We’ve laughed and talked. I’ve met a lot of new people, and it has honestly been fun.
“The formalities are over now. Shall we go soon?” he asks.
“Yes, it is a school night.”
He smiles down at me. “Did I tell you how gorgeous you look in that dress yet?”
“A few times.” I giggle.
“You wear it better than our models. Maybe you could be the next Valentino girl.”
“Ha.” I laugh out loud. “I will need to lose twenty pounds before I would even fit into the sample.”
“Can I cut in?” a deep voice asks. We turn to see Enrico standing beside us.
“Why, of course you can.” Giorgio smiles and steps aside.
Enrico takes me in his arms. He pulls me close, and my body awakens from her dormant sleep.
Shit…
We sway to the music for a moment as I hold my breath. If I inhale, I’m sure to smell his pheromones-the ones that make me weak at the knees. He towers above me, one hand on my lower back holding me close to his body. The other is holding my hand.
“I had forgotten how good you feel in my arms.” He smiles down at me as everyone around us disappears.
That look… I had forgotten it.
I gently ease my body back from his but he pulls me close again.
“Don’t pull away from me.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
He leans closer, his lips resting on my temple, and I begin to feel a warmth seep into my bones.
He feels so good.
“What were you going to say before?” I ask. “When we were at the bar, you started saying something.”
“Does it really matter now?”
“It does to me. I…” I stop myself from speaking.
“Can I see you tomorrow night?”
I stop dancing.
He moves my body with his hands, and I begin to dance again.
“No.”
“Why not?”
I shake my head. “Why would I want to see you after last time?”
“It was out of my control before.”
I roll my eyes.
“I never left you in a prison to rot.”
“That’s exactly what you did.”
“I ensured you had the best legal team available. It was all that I could do at the time.”
I stop, angered at his piss poor excuse. “That’s not good enough. Whatever. This is pointless.” I pull out of his arms. “Rico, I told you to stay away from me.”
He pulls me close again. “Don’t go,” he whispers. His lips drop to my temple, and I close my eyes at the feel of him there.
“It was a very bad time for me, Olivia. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Why?” I breathe.
“The day I put you onto the plane to Sorrento, my father and grandfather were killed in a car accident.”
I stop dancing and stare up at him. “On that very day?”
He clenches his jaw. “I got the call as I was leaving the airport.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to burden your trip. I was someone you had just met.”
I watch him struggle with this conversation. This subject is obviously hard.
“Every time you called me that week, I was with a lawyer or my grieving mother. The timing was all wrong, and then everything got too hard.”
My heart hurts. “I could have helped you,” I whisper up at him.
He pulls me close, and we dance for a moment. Regret swirls between us.
“I saw you with that man and I…” His voice trails off.
“I’m not on Tinder. That was my first date, Rico. You know me. I’m not like that.”
He pulls me closer. We don’t speak, we just sway to the music. After just one excuse and five minutes of dancing, I feel myself melting against his body.
Mafiosi.
He isn’t good for me.