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“One day, I will own a place here, on the water.” Dante stood with the sea water halfway up to his chest, a faraway look in his eyes.
Annabelle wrapped her arms and legs around him, and his hands cupped her bottom.
“You’ll do it, too. I know you will. This one didn’t work out, but there will be others.” Her thumb stroked his cheek, forcing a smile to his face and chasing away the frown from his brow.
He squeezed her bottom, and she moaned softly. She kissed his neck.
“Behave, querida. We’re in public.”
“You started it.” She plucked at his skin with her teeth.
“Time to go,” Dante said, starting toward the shore.
Annabelle giggled and whispered dirty words about what she wanted to do to him in his ear, which made him walk faster.
“I don’t feel the need to remind you. It’s just… Never mind.” Annabelle shook her head. “Viviana left dinner for you in the warmer.”
“I already ate. Congratulations on becoming the CEO. I know you’ll do an excellent job. Cliffy would be proud.”
Her breath caught at the mention of her brother and tears misted her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. “I hope so.”
“Good night, Anna.”
“Good night.”
She didn’t watch him walk away but heard the opening and closing of the door. Sighing, she gazed up at the black sky. Why did she think marrying him and moving in together was a good idea? It had been an impulsive, desperate decision and not clearly thought through.
She had counted on anger and acrimony to get her through the 365 days, but another emotion was creeping in, and she was afraid to analyze what the emotion was and what it meant.
Pushing up from the chair, Annabelle took the platter of snacks inside and then climbed the stairs to the second floor. The house was quiet. Passing by Dante’s bedroom, she couldn’t tell if he was awake or not. If he was, he was probably reading before he went to sleep.
She should stop worrying about him and thinking about him. He didn’t think abouther. He went to Las Vegas and closed a lucrative deal and probably hadn’t thought of her once while there. In fact, he clearly hadn’t because only after she made a snide remark about his departure did he express remorse for his rude behavior.
In her bedroom, Annabelle took a quick shower and washed and blow-dried her hair. She combed through her leave-in conditioner and then braided her hair into one long plait. By the time she finished, her eyes were drooping.
She plodded toward the bed, but something on her vanity caught the corner of her eye. Slowly, she approached, her frown of confusion deepening. There was a new vintage perfume bottle on the table, with a card propped against it. She opened the envelope and read the message.
I saw this in Las Vegas and thought you might want to add it to your collection.
She inhaled a sharp breath. No way did Dante happen to run across a vintage perfume bottle. He had to go looking for it. Occasionally, she visited a perfume bottle dealer, but that wasn’t her favorite way to find pieces. She found them at antique shops, vintage stores, and estate sales. The hunt was part of the fun of collecting them.
She held up the bottle, which contained a few drops of perfume. The container was gorgeous, made of crystal on a legged pedestal with a gold stopper that had a floral dogwood design. The bottle easily cost over a hundred dollars. She lifted it to her nose and inhaled the bouquet.
Biting her bottom lip, she gazed down at Dante’s note, written in his large scrawl.
Hehadthought of her. Something inside her shifted. She placed the note in one of the drawers and replaced the bottle on the table.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she thought about what this meant. Did he care for her more than he let on? She didn’t know, and not knowing was driving her crazy. She needed answers.
Annabelle hopped up from the bed and headed to Dante’s room. She knocked on the door, which served to infuriate her—because why was she knocking on her husband’s door?
“Come in.”
With a barrage of nervous flutters filling her stomach, she took a deep breath and pushed her way inside. Dante was standing near the sitting room in his slacks from earlier, but his chest was bare. She gulped, her heart hammering like a fist against her ribs. His magnificent body was made up of sinewy muscle, his chest and forearms sprinkled with hair.
A painful ache blossomed in her core as the dark need of desire snaked through her. That pissed her off. These feelings plaguing her day after day were his fault.
“I saw the perfume bottle you brought me. Why did you do that?”
