I’m shocked when the commuters he cuts off don’t honk. He dictates traffic as if his SUV has government plates, and in a matter of seconds, the icon I was seeking earlier presents on each street sign we pass.
With a confidence that comes with insider knowledge, he makes fast work of the heavy traffic. He isn’t immune to the road rage most commuters face at one stage in their lives, though. He curses a moped rider for cutting him off, then laughs when a group of teens chase his SUV down several streets, hopeful for a sneaky snap of him and the men in the convoy of SUVs tailing us.
Either a security team is following us, or the vehicles behind us are racing to the same location. They mimic the stranger’s hair-raising maneuvers turn for turn—even the illegal ones he does when traffic becomes too dense.
After rubbing a hand over my hair to smooth the frizz, I ask, “Are you famous?”
I can’t see his face, but I know he is smiling. I can feel it in my bones. “Not exactly. Carlisle was once a small town. Everyone knew everyone.” The SUV’s tires squeak when he turns down the cobblestoned street I inputted into the Maps app over an hour ago. “But now she’s a wild thing. If you don’t respect her, she’ll eat you alive.”
My agreeing huff flaps a wayward dark lock from my face. “I’m slowly learning that.”
We fall into a companionable silence as the city awakens aroundus. Markets spill onto the streets, older men argue over chess in the local park, and children chase pigeons through the piazza. It represents a perfectly normal day, and I’m praying it stays that way.
After both an eternity and an instant, the still-unnamed man pulls up outside a gleaming glass building. “Here you go. Ospedale San Giorgio’s. The main entrance is?—”
“Past the fountain,” we say in unison.
Relief and gratitude surge through me as I quickly gather my belongings. I’ve already taken up too much of his time, so I don’t want to waste more. “Thank you. I can’t bear to think about what could have happened if you hadn’t been at the right place at the right time.”
He shrugs off the admiration as another impish grin spreads across his face. “Just promise to pay attention next time and to not trust technology more than your head. If you can do that, we will be on our way to an equal scoreboard.”
Scoreboard?
Running out of time, I nod and then crank open my door. “No more apps for me. I promise.”
After straightening my barely held-together blouse, I slip into the rapidly warming sunlight. With my brain still on the fritz, I don’t remember to turn around and wave off the stranger until I’m halfway to the entrance.
I startle when I realize he’s already gone. His SUV has blended into the hustle of Carlisle’s traffic, leaving me with nothing but the tingles his touch inspired and the memory of his concern when he contemplated my mishap not being an accident.
I’d love to investigate his concern more thoroughly, but a far more pressing matter demands my utmost devotion.
I square my shoulders and dash through Ospedale San Giorgio’s double entrance doors. Although shaken, I’m committed to ensuring this morning’s brush with death is the only one I face today.
2
GIOVANNI
Halfway back to Carlisle’s town center, I murmur to myself, “What the fuck was that, Vanni?”
Carlisle is a small coastal community, though not so small that every face is familiar. Valentina should have been another shadowed figure in the morning rush. She wasn’t. One glance of her beautiful face and cock-thickening body warranted another, and another, and another, until she became theonlything I could see.
I left her only five minutes ago, and she’s occupied my thoughts every single second. It isn’t solely the way she looked at me that repeats in my head, or the way her sexy voice curled around my dick in silent promise of the best blow job of my life. It’s every pore, every seductive curve, and each fleck of honey in her light-brown eyes.
Her beauty isn’t in the way social media tries to portray as attractive. It’s unvarnished and real. She’s a recently mined diamond still waiting to be polished. Her hair is a wild dark mane, one I can tell resists any attempts at taming. When the first light of dawn caught it, I pictured how soft it would feel while running my fingers through it.
That isn’t me.
I don’t admire from afar, nor do I simp over women.
I’m a Caruso.
We fuck—hard. Then we leave.
That is theonlyway we operate.
So why can’t I stop mulling over the drastic shift in Valentina’s attitude when we arrived at her destination?
Something changed in her the instant she stepped out of my SUV. Although shaken, her confidence was bright enough to cut through the morning haze. But when her feet touched the pavement outside San Giorgio’s, her light faded, similar to a candle snuffed out by a sudden draft. It was as if San Giorgio’s had stolen her spark and left only a shadow of the woman who immediately captivated me.
