But today I’ve decided that since I had no choice than to show up, I would at least stay close to them.Maybe hiding behind Father’s tall form will keep me out of sight.And hopefully out of trouble.
I am looking around, pretending to sip my champagne and trying my best not to look too conspicuous when a deep voice yanks me back to the present.
“Francesco, thank you and your family for joining this modest event.”
There he is.
The devil.
Tall, dark, handsome—nope, Lily!—shaking hands with Father.His eyes find mine, and for a moment, the air thickens.I try to force my gaze to the ground, to look anywhere but at him, but I can feel the weight of his stare searing through me, burning my skin with its intensity.
“I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves.If there’s anything you need, ask the waitstaff.They’ll gladly see to it.And you ladies look absolutely lovely, by the way.”
Father preens, clearly pleased, judging from his wide smile.
Daria blushes and giggles like a schoolgirl.
Gag.
“Mr.Santaluccia, thank you for the invitation,” Daria coos, her voice dripping with practiced sweetness.“The gala is certainly a success, as always.”
Before Father can launch into the usual business talk, Damiano cuts him off.“I was hoping I could ask your daughter for a dance.”
My eyes snap up as dread creeps up my spine.
Father looks confused “A dance?Why of course, I mean…”
Daria pushes Chiara forward so hard she almost trips and falls into Damiano’s arms.But he merely sidesteps everyone, his eyes still on me.Then he holds his hand out to me and I want to sink into the ground.I am dimly aware that every eye in the room is on me, and with no other choice, I thrust my champagne flute into someone’s—anyone’s—hand.His fingers close around mine and I let him guide me, my steps mechanical, toward whatever guillotine or executioner’s block he has waiting for me.I can do this.
Surprisingly or not, we are dancing a few moments later.
Huh.Maybe I am going to live after all.
I am tense, trying to look anywhere but at him.His body radiates heat and power and I am overwhelmed and confused.
“Relax, little flower,” he murmurs, his voice a deep rumble that slinks down my spine, brushing every nerve ending.“No one is going to hurt you.”
I risk a glance up at him and let out a breathless, awkward laugh.Not quite mirthless, more nervous mouse under a hawk’s gaze.
“You’re not ‘no one’.”
His smile is all teeth and trouble.Predatory and unfairly sexy, it sends traitorous signals to parts of me that really should know better.
“Are you afraid of me?”
Yes.Definitely yes.I swallow hard.“Should I be?”
He laughs, low and warm, and it wraps around me like silk and smoke, making my skin tingle.
“I haven’t told anyone about…you know, the other night.”I clear my throat to stop my rambling.
There are crinkles at the corners of his eyes and a dimple appears on his left cheek.
A dimple!How dare he!
“I know.I told you I trusted you and I do.”
I frown.“Trust doesn’t seem compatible with…your line of work.”
