I raised my flute of champagne in the air in a silent toast to our future. The one that was just about to start.
A Dangerous Man
Callum D’Ardenzi was a pleasant surprise. Based on first impressions, he seemed perfect. Almost too perfect. He was handsome, courteous, and refined, with that subtle rough-around-the-edges grit that told you he was a shrewd businessman and life hadn’t been handed to him on a plate. He spoke softly, listened attentively to everything I said with what seemed like genuine interest, and made sure my glass was always filled with champagne. I couldn’t see him making impulsive choices that wouldn’t suit or benefit him, which reassured me a little, knowing my father hadn’t duped him into wanting to marry me.
Papiwas right. He was everything he’d described him as, but that sceptical part of me was waiting for the ‘he’s too good to be true’ moment. There had to be something. I didn’t understand why he was still single or why he’d kept patiently answering my many questions for the last sixty minutes. He’d responded to every one of them perfectly, as if reading from a script for what women want to hear. I searched for a red flag, but so far, the only one I could find was that he’d be perfect husband material.
“Okay, important question,” I said, lowering my voice to a serious tone. “Chocolate in the fridge? Yes or no?”
His nose scrunched. “Who puts chocolate in the fridge? That should be illegal.”
I laughed, raising my hands in a grateful prayer to the heavens. “Right? It should be a crime. Life sentence if it’s Toblerone.”
“Okay,” he chuckled, brushing his shoulder against mine. “It's my turn to ask an important question.” I nodded, smiling behind my glass. “Have I passed your test?”
“My test?”
“I assumed the Spanish Inquisition was to decide if you would agree to a date with me.”
“Oh,” I giggled, brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Well, only if you can tell me one thing about yourself that isn’t perfect. I don’t trust perfection.”
He laughed and then pretended to think hard. “I guess some people might say I’m a workaholic. That’s why I’m still single. I haven’t had much time to date. But I’d like that to change now that I’ve met you.”
It was an effort not to roll my eyes.
“That’s me asking you out on a date, Arianna.”
Right. I smiled, taking a sip of my drink while thinking about it. What was there to think about? He was attractive, smart, funny, and successful. He hadn’t run scared from my interrogation either. So why the hell was I hesitating?
He whistled low, and I glanced at him, realising I still hadn’t answered.
“Ouch. Okay, no hard feelings.”
“No.” I quickly shook my head, grabbing the expensive sleeve of his suit jacket. “I mean, yes. I’d love to go out with you, and, um, get to know you better.”
He smiled brightly. “Great. Are you scared of heights?”
“I don’t love them. Why?”
“Just deciding whether to plan our date in the air, on the water, or on land.”
I shook my head, still smiling. “So many choices at your disposal. Honestly, dinner on land would be more than okay.”
“Not one for grand gestures?”
“They’re great. I love all things romance.” I tilted my head. “Acts of service is definitely my love language.”
“Noted.”
I glanced straight through the crowd of guests, not focusing on anything in particular, until a face so striking, so undeniably handsome, made me do a double-take. It was a face I’d never forget, one I’d been daydreaming about for the past two days. This couldn’t be happening. What the hell washedoing here?
His deep brown eyes smouldered as they stared back at me, pinning me in place. There was a playful spark in his gaze. The kind of mischief that screamed trouble, as if he knew the secret to wrecking me but would still have me begging him to do it again. The corner of his lips ticked up ever so slightly, and I suddenly became very aware of my skin, my body, and the reaction it was having to a man I never thought I’d see again.
With slow intent, he raised his glass to me and took a sip of his drink, holding my gaze. I squeezed my thighs together as champagne glistened on his lips and watched the way his chiselled jaw worked, and then his throat moved. He swallowed. Once. Twice. My body hummed with desire just from watching him, remembering that mouth on me.Cristo.What the hell was Cesare doing at my work fundraiser, looking likethat, with my father and all my colleagues present?
He straightened from his relaxed pose, drawing my attention to how unfairly gorgeous he looked in his tailored tuxedo, open-collared black shirt, and patent shoes. Effortless, molten sexuality radiated from the man. I gulped as he movedtowards me, my gaze flickering around the room. I realised I wasn’t the only woman under his spell, but his focus was solely on me. I wanted to turn and hide, but the way he prowled through the crowd towards me was magnetic, pulling me in and holding me captive. It wasn’t just his physical perfection, but the dangerous charisma and mysterious aura that made him so irresistible. He carried temptation as if it were his birthright. Even from across the room, I could feel it wrapping around me: the pull and the promise of delicious destruction.
My throat tightened as he reached the group I was with, and I held my breath, panic igniting as my mind raced to come up with a story to explain this. Was he going to tell them how we knew each other? No, surely client confidentiality was important in his job. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t utter a word. Just held my gaze as he walked right past me. I felt the faint brush of his fingers along the curve of my hipbone, and my breath was ripped from me with a shudder. Why the hell did that feel… possessive? Like a warning.
