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“I am, and you don’t want to mess with me or my guys.” I stand a little taller. “Matt doesn’t want anything from you. It could make him a billion dollars, and he still would never want it. So, go piss off.”
He grabs my arm again, and I yank out of it. “Don’t cross me, Sandra.”
I don’t say a word, just simply stare, but he’s really rattled my cage.
seven
SANDRA
The Uber drops me off at the address Dom had sent me, and I’m looking at a black-gated fence around a property, and proving the reason for the gate, there’s a large sign stating,Private Property.
I unlock my phone, and sure enough, it’s the address. I’m beginning a text when I hear, “Oh, excuse me, milady, are you here for a date with a stunning Italian man?” The voice belongs to Dom.
“I wouldn’t go that far, honestly. I’d say mildly attractive, is prone to fits of jealousy, and there’s no proof he’s Italian.”
Not only does the gate protect the property, but so does a swarm of trees and bushes, along with beautiful landscaping. There’s breaking of sticks as footsteps approach me, and he appears, standing behind the gate.
“Even with your untruths and insults, please enter. I’ll be sure to punish you later due to your unkind words.” His hands, calloused with years of working, tugs me close to him. “Hey, beautiful.”
“Back at you, baby. So, tell me, are we breaking and entering?” He doesn’t answer, one arm wrapping around me, his fingers on my cheek.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful. And no, we’re not breaking and entering.” He doesn’t explain anything further but leads me down a stone walkway, away from the gate and all the foliage that affords it privacy in the middle of a big city.
I trail behind him, but his fingers are interlaced with mine. We walk over a small bridge and a little creek. I have no idea where it ends or begins. The trees fade away behind us and the backyard is full of floating lights, flowers, and a large gazebo, decorated with red roses.
Candles float in a small pond, and I now realize the creek both empties and flows from it. The table under the gazebo is full of tapered candles and tall flutes of wine. Music plays in the background. Ed Sheeran. How did he know?
He extends his hand to mine. “Can I have this dance?” He bows, so formal, in a pair of jeans and a white V-necked T-shirt. He’s perfect.
I take his hand, and he escorts me to a small cement area near a fire pit, where more lights look as if they simply float in the air. It makes this night, with him, more magical.
He pulls me close to his body and dances like a person who knows what he’s doing. He reaches for my right arm with his left, bringing it to his shoulder, which is the height of my nose. Our free arms connect where our elbows touch. I know this dance. My mother had me and Cami in dance classes forever.
“I assume you’re going to lead?” I tease, with the pitch of my tone elevated.
He lets out a long scoff followed by a sexy grin, where those dimples appear out of nowhere. “Come on, I think you know the answer to that.”
And I do. “Tenerife Sea” begins to play, and he brings me tighter to his body. I let this time between us pass peacefully as I stare into his eyes. They aren’t simply chocolate like I’d always thought. It’s the first time I realize there are many colors that combine to make his eyes intoxicating. Far away, they’re a deep chocolate. How have I never taken the chance to appreciate them up close—the golden flecks, with small greens and blue dots? How have I missed this before?
I drag my stare away from him, resting my head on his shoulder, relishing his touch on my entire body and how it sends tingles from the top of my head to the bottom of my toes.
I let him take the lead, and I find it freeing to just be in the moment with him. I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be than in his arms.
“You’re important to me. I’ve known that from the first time I laid eyes on you. And thinking I could have lost my opportunity…” His whispers are soft, and though I understand the words, and appreciate them, it’s in the way he delivers them that has me almost melting further into his body.
I don’t have to say anything. Tonight, with the lyrics of Ed Sheeran in the background, I find that I’m at home—for the first time ever—in a person’s arms.
The song ends and “Perfect” begins to play, but he backs up, and his eyes are studying me. “Fuck, are you real?”
I pinch myself. “Yeah, pretty real,” I tease, and I turn around in a three-sixty, taking in my full surroundings. I realize there’s a large house just beyond the beautiful grounds. It’s a red brick mansion, for lack of a better way to describe it. “So, are you going to tell me what this place is, and why we’re here?”
He reaches out to the length of his hand, spreading it around the grounds. “Isn’t it obvious? We’re here for our first date.”
I roll my eyes at his ridiculous answer. “Yeah, I got that but did I miss you owning a mansion in the city?”
He jerks me closer to him. “You’re a smart ass, and trouble, you know?”
“Well, obviously.”
