Page 47 of Cavaliere

I decide on a cool nude smokey eye with a cat eyelash for a little drama. Nothing says Wren more than being dramatic. I keep the lips neutral as well, not wanting to take too much attention away from the gown. After throwing a few loose waves in my hair, I decide that it looks the best down with the cut of this dress.

Unzipping the back, I slowly slip a leg in, sighing as I feel the cool, silky fabric glide over my skin. I slip my arms into the banded sleeves that are designed to drape lightly on your arms, giving it a romantic feel.

After angling my arm and back at that awkward angle you have to do when you’re forced to zip up a dress by yourself, I get it zipped up and slip my shoes on. I spritz a little perfume behind my ears and on my wrists before I finally turn to look over everything in the floor-length mirror that’s resting against the wall.

My breath catches in my throat. I look elegantly stunning. The woman at Saks deserves a massive raise for blindly picking out a dress that looks like it was designed specifically for my body. The emerald green color combined with the sultry makeup makes my blue eyes pop. The happiness is shining in my eyes, and for once, I’m comfortable with it being there.

I glance over at the alarm clock on Matteo’s nightstand to check the time—6:55pm. Five minutes until I’m supposed to meet him, and my stomach is in knots. I quickly throw my phone, I.D., cards, and lip gloss in case I need to touch up in the small matching clutch and head out to meet him.

The only noise that can be heard as I make my way down the stairs is the light clicking coming from my heels hitting the hard floor. Matteo is standing with his back to me in the foyer, but even from the back, he looks as striking as ever. His body was made to fill out expensive Italian designer suits.

It isn’t until I’m three steps from the bottom that he finally turns around.

“Holy shit.” Matteo sharply sucks in a breath. I’m frozen in place as his hungry gaze devours me. “You are fucking stunning.”

Just as the tip of my shoe hits the bottom floor, Matteo unfreezes, stalking toward me. The intensity of his gaze has me stopping. It’s a mix of heat, pride, admiration, and something else I can’t quite put my finger on.

“Thank you for agreeing to try. I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret it,” Matteo says softly as he grabs my hand, slowly bringing it to his mouth, placing a light kiss before lowering it but not releasing it.

My chest feels tight at his declaration and the emotion swirling in his eyes, unable to say a word.

I feel owned by the way he’s looking at me, and maybe… I just want him to own me.

Chapter

Thirty-Two

MATTEO

Idon’t think I’ve ever been so goddamn nervous in my life.

Gio would be laughing his ass off if he could see me pacing back and forth as I wait for Wren to come down the stairs.

I’ve taken hundreds of women on dates. They weren’t all to this degree, but still a date nonetheless. So what the fuck is wrong with me? Maybe it’s because I’ve never taken a woman here before.

The family restaurant, Bella Vita.

This means something to me.

“Fuck,” I say out loud before chugging the last of my old-fashioned. Just as I’m setting my glass down on the foyer table, I hear her heels clicking as they approach the top of the stairs.

I don’t move, too afraid it will make a noise. The only sound that can be heard throughout the house is her slowly descending the stairs. A sound that will forever be ingrained in my mind. My heart races faster as I count every step she takes, waiting until she’s three steps from the bottom before I turn around.

She’s fucking stunning, and I let her know.

I owe the woman at Saks a new car or something because she completely outdid herself. The way it hugs every curve of her body perfectly. The high slit in the thigh is showing off just enough leg that has me hoping the material will ride up slightly, giving me a better view. But that’s not what my eyes are glued to, no. My eyes are glued to Wren’s. Her blue eyes are practically glowing from the contrast of the emerald gown. They look sultry, and the way she’s looking at me is making it extremely fucking hard to refrain from flipping her gown up and fucking her until she doesn’t remember her name.

This gown was made specifically for Wren.

Tonight is all about honesty. I’m going into this holding nothing back. These past few weeks with Wren have made me realize I’m done tip-toeing around her. She knows what I am. Who I am. I’m not holding back anymore.

My hand doesn’t leave hers as I lead her out to the blacked-out Bentley Continental GT Mulliner.

“I see you got it replaced. How many cars do you own?” Wren asks, finally breaking her silence. If I hadn’t seen the heat in her eyes that I know matches my own, I would have been concerned.

“A few.”

“I think it’s more than a few. You’re in a different car almost every single time I’ve rode with you,” Wren says as I open her car door for her.