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“Yeah, I did. How was work?” she asks. Her blue eyes catch the light and glimmer with desire. I stroke her shoulder and fiddle with the thin strap of her dress.

“I

wanted to come and see you, but—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Rivers.” A hand taps my sleeve, and I look down at the man sitting next to her. “Yes?” I glance down at him in irritation.

He gives me a wan smile and sits up straighter. “I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Giovanni Caselli.” He nods at Confidence. “I’m this young lady’s escort tonight. I met her in the bar—” I immediately tune him out.

“Would you like a drink?” I ask Confidence. She shoots a worried glance at her companion and then back at me. “Maybe a limoncello, but it can wait. You just got here,” she says.

“Mr. Caselli, if you would,” I look down at the third wheel and scowl. “I’ll have a whisky soda.”

He only hesitates for the blink of an eye before he stands up. “Oh, it would be my honor to fetch you a drink, Mr. Rivers,” he says. His thickly accented English is perfect and he bobs up and down. “Please feel free to use my seat while I’m gone.”

Fucking coward.

I lean in and whisper in his ear, “Invia un server con i nostri drink in modo da poterti concentrare sulla ricerca di un altro posto.” Send a waiter with our drinks and find yourself another seat.

His eyes widen at my directive, but he nods, bows to the rest of the table, and with a furtive, “Ciao” in Confidence’s direction, he darts off.

“What did you say to him?” she asks with a disapproving laugh. I drop down in the seat next to her and grab the leg of hers and drag it over.

“I thanked him for keeping my seat warm,” I say with a shrug. My eyes sweep the rest of the table, and a few of the eyes trained on us zip away. But a couple actually gawk for another second before they bend their heads together to gossip.

“Why is everyone staring?” she whispers, her eyes wide as she looks around the table.

“They’re shocked that I’m sitting here. I haven’t had a plus one in five years. For me, these events are about business. It’s a chance to catch people with their guard down, make a deal that would be impossible to hatch in a boardroom.”

“So, you don’t have business this time?” she asks.

“Yeah ... You,” I say.

She laughs. “You’re so smooth when you want to be,” she teases.

I pick up her hand and place it in my palm. She stops laughing and wraps her delicate fingers around mine. Her nails are painted a light pink. They’re short, simple, but so fucking pretty. Just like her.

“But I can’t seem to stop touching you,” I say quietly and look back at her face.

Her eyes sink their hooks into me and reel me in. I go willingly. I want to backstroke in those baby blues. Her full, red lips are parted and soft.

She’s practically drooling.

“Does it turn you on?” I ask, half teasing, half pleased as fuck.

She’s good company. I feel completely comfortable with her. Like I do with my brothers, and a very small handful of friends. She’s smart and funny. And she looks at me and just sees a man she’s attracted to. Not what I can do for her.

It’s bad timing. I have so much on my plate. I have no idea what will happen when the wedding is over. But, I know that I’d like to see her again. Is she even thinking about it, or is this really just the weekend fling she talked about last night?

“What are you thinking?” she asks.

“This and that,” I say vaguely, but I add a smile so she doesn’t pick up on the prickle of unease in my gut

I trace her finger absently and think about what I said to Dare. It’s true—it would be seen as a misalliance. But, it wouldn’t be. There’s nothing I’ve seen that says she’s not amazing. I want to explore what we’ve ignited this weekend.

“What are you thinking?” I ask.

She raises her eyebrows in amusement. “Just that I’m sure everyone would be shocked to find that underneath your Duke of Midnight persona, you’re really an introvert who creates distance to prevent being disappointed.”

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