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“My mom passed when I was eighteen. Janice is my father’s second wife.”
“I’m sorry.”
He nods, and then he sits on the stool next to mine and picks up his wine glass. “My mom was the do-gooder of my parents,” he says with a smile. “She would have loved this project. My dad doesn’t get it. But he knows I’m going to do what I want, and he knows that it will bring some positive press to the family. He’s always open to adoration from the press.”
“So your brother is more like your dad, then?”
Dante nods. “I’m older, but he’s been the obvious choice to take over the company for a long time now. I mean, I’ve pretty much always known I was going into the family business, but I’ve never been as into it as he is.” He pauses. “Enough about me, though. You’ve had the laptop out a lot lately, and you seem hyper-focused when you’re working on it.”
I laugh. “Nothing as exciting as trying to save the world. I’m looking at casting calls and housing listings in L.A.”
He raises his eyebrows. “L.A.?”
“Yeah. Once my father’s debt is paid, I want to get us out of here. We both need a fresh start, and if I want to get my career moving, I need to be where it happens.”
“Is your father going to go for that?” he asks slowly.
“I’m sure he will. He has cousins in L.A. who he’d love to see more often. And it’s not like we live in a great neighborhood or anything. I think a change of scenery will do us both good.”
He doesn’t say anything to that for a while. “L.A. is probably a smart choice,” he finally says. “Like you said, you need to be where it’s happening, right?”
“Right. And… I don’t know. As insane as this all started out, I recognize it for what it is. This is my second chance. This is a way to pick ourselves up, finally, after losing my mom. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for that.” I feel my face heat and look away. He’s watching me, and he reaches over and takes my hand.
“I’m glad it worked out that way. When I went in there that night, doing what I did was the last thing on my mind. Until I saw you,” he adds, and he starts rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand. “I’ve never done anything like that. And I doubt I ever will again.”
“Did you bid on me expecting that it would turn into us sleeping together?” I ask quietly.
“I’m not going to lie. I wanted you since the second I saw you, but that’s not why I bid on you.”
“No?”
He shakes his head. “I bid on you because I knew someone else would eventually, and I didn’t want that to happen. You didn’t seem like you belonged there. I had no idea at the time how true that was.” He looks back up at me, and I’m lost the second his eyes meet mine. “You never have to set foot in a strip joint again. You never have to escort any rich bastard again. Whatever made me tell Harry to bring you back to that room that night, I’m glad it happened. I’m glad I got to know you this month.”
I glance away. The softness in his voice has me thinking stupid, impossible things like “forever” and “love,” and I know better.
“I’m glad I got to know you, too,” I say, and I hate the way my voice catches. Enjoy the moment, because it’s all I have. Very soon, I won’t have Dante in my life. I’ll be starting over, and he’ll be moving on.
He’s about to say something, but the oven timer starts beeping, and he gives me one more look then gets up and goes over to the oven to take it out. We set the table together, and he pours more wine, then pulls out my chair for me. Before I sit down, he reaches out and cups my chin in his hand, and then leans in for one long, slow, toe-curling kiss that leaves me breathless and wanting so, so much more.
When he finally pulls away, I’m hungry for something else entirely, and he gives me the most heart-melting little smile before backing away and waiting for me to sit down. When I do, I feel like I can barely breathe.
How the hell am I going to walk away from him when the month is over?
He lights the tall white candles, then brings two plates of ratatouille to the table. I’m seated at the end of the table, and he sets his plate at the spot just to the left of mine, rather than across the table like I expected him to. It’s a very intimate setup, and I’m charmed by how much thought he clearly put into this. He walks away one more time and comes back with the bottle of red wine.
“Don’t want to forget that,” he jokes, and I laugh. He takes a seat and then watches me, motioning for me to try it.
It smells amazing, and I hope it tastes nearly as good. It would be awkward if this was terrible after all of the effort Dante put into it. But of course, it’s amazing, an explosion of flavors erupting on my tongue. I chew and swallow and smile at Dante.
“You’re a very good cook,” I tell him, and he grins. He reaches over and takes my hand, pressing a warm kiss to my palm before letting go and digging into his own dinner. It’s a long, relaxed, luxurious meal, and we talk and eat until the penthouse grows dark, lit only by the flickering flames of the candles and the under cabinet lighting in the kitchen.
Our conversation comes to a lull, and it’s impossible to miss the expression on Dante’s face, the intensity in his eyes. He stands up and holds his hand out for me, and I stand up and take it. He bends his head down and claims my lips, and his kiss reaches deep into my soul, breaking me and giving me life all at the same time. When he swings me up into his arms, I can’t make myself stop kissing him, and he doesn’t seem interested in stopping, either. He carries me across the penthouse, into his bedroom, and when he pulls my top off and then lowers his hands to my waistband, I notice that his hands are shaking, just a little. If he’s feeling even a tenth of the maddening need, the insane connection between us, then he’s feeling overwhelmed, too.
But why would he?
I shove the thought away. This moment. Take this moment. Love this man for as long as you’re able, because each moment is precious and there are so few of them left.
I kiss him, determined to tell him without words what I already know in my heart: that I’m utterly, completely, helplessly in love with him.
