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Immediately, my gaze sweeps the restaurant for any obvious threat.

The exits.

The staff.

The guests.

Nothing appears out of place.

Satisfied, I allow myself to relax slightly.

“We will have the first course immediately brought out,” Edoardo informs us. He glances at our empty wineglasses. “Do you have a preference?”

“Have an unopened bottle of red from my cousin’s collection brought out along with a corkscrew.”

“Understood.” He inclines his head. “Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you this evening.” With another smile, he disappears toward the kitchen.

The moment he’s gone, a comfortable silence settles between us. The kind that makes a man think about things he has no business thinking about, like what it might be like to spend every night with her just like this.

“This place is amazing,” Charlotte notes, looking around with excitement twinkling in her big green eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten somewhere with such a beautiful view.”

I stare at her, thinking the same damn thing.

“Me neither.”

I watch a slight blush spread over her porcelain cheeks, her front teeth catching her bottom lip, before she lowers her gaze and traces a finger along her cloth napkin.

I notice the slight tremble in her fingers.

And I’m immediately concerned.

“Do I make you nervous?”

She pauses, her hand stilling. Swallowing, her eyes briefly flick to the candles between us before meeting my gaze. “Yes.”

Her answer catches me off guard.

Have I done something to upset her?

Slowly, her eyes lift to mine. “But not in the way you’re thinking.”

My pulse races. “And what way is that?”

She takes a moment to consider her answer. “You don’t frighten me,” she states matter-of-factly.

The words cascade in the breeze between us.

Most people are afraid of me.

Some hide it better than others.

But not once has Charlotte looked at me with fear in her eyes.

Not once.

“If anything…” She hesitates, looking off toward the side of the cliff.

“Yes?”