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“Marco?”
Emily’s voice was soft. He put the ring in his pocket, turned around—and almost stopped breathing.
She was wearing red. Red silk, red chiffon—he’d never been very good at telling one kind of fabric from another. He only knew that the dress was incredible. It had thin straps and it skimmed her body while somehow clinging to all the right places. Her shoes were black strappy things with nosebleed heels. Her hair was loose, the way he loved it; she was wearing long pearl earrings that he’d bought for her at a tiny shop in Soho just last week.
“Art nouveau,” the vendor had assured them.
Marco had known only that they looked as if they’d been made for the woman he loved.
She flashed a quick, nervous smile. “I didn’t overdo? I mean the dress…”
He held out his arms and she went straight into them. “Tu sei bella, cara mia.”
Her smile warmed. “Grazie, signor. Anche tu bello.”
Marco framed her face with his hands. His heart was so full. To hell with waiting until later. He would give her the ring now, ask to her be his forever…
Beep.
“Emilia,” he said, “il mio cuore …”
Beep.
“Sweetheart.” Emily put her hand over his. “It’s the intercom.”
The intercom. He had been about to propose. Besides that, the woman he loved had just called him “sweetheart.” No woman had ever called him that before.
“To hell with the intercom.”
“It’s probably the concierge saying that your friends are here. Remember?”
His friends. Khan and Laurel. Talk about bad timing…
He took her hand, kissed it, then tucked her arm within his. Together, they walked through the living room to the foyer, where he plucked the white house phone from the wall.
“Mr. Santini. Your guests are here, sir.”
“Si. Excellent. Please send them up.”
He put his arm around Emily’s waist. She looked up at him.
“You sure I look all right?” she whispered, as if her words might carry into the rising elevator car.
He tilted her face to his and gave her a slow, tender kiss.
“Molto bella.”
Emily smiled. The light above the elevator blinked as the car came to a gentle stop.
Marco gave her one last kiss just as the doors slid open...
Laurel gasped. “Emily?”
Khan shook his head. “I don’t understand. Marco? You never said… Emily? Emily Wilde?”
And the world came apart.
******
