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To me, goddesses are perfect. They are beautiful and wise, gracious and benevolent. While I believe I’m pretty with my fair skin, angel blonde hair and blue eyes, I’m no goddess. I have plenty of flaws.
A knock on the door has Gualtiero drop his hand, and my brain instantly registers the loss. I shake my head to dislodge the spell he’s put me under, confused by what’s happening to me.
I eye the exit longingly. I’m in way over my head with this man—I need to get out of here NOW.
“Avanti,” Gualtiero calls out as I drop my eyes to the floor, unable to stand his gaze any longer.
Suit Guy enters carrying a tray with a bottle of water and a shot glass of an amber colored liquid—whisky, perhaps? He puts it down on the table beside me and stations himself by the door.
“Leave us,” Gualtiero says curtly, and he complies immediately.
Yep, it’s obvious he’s perfected the ruling trait.
“Drink this,” he commands, handing me the shot glass.
“What is it?” I ask, eyeing the content of the glass suspiciously.
“Puni.” At my raised eyebrow, he explains further. “Italian malt whisky.”
I scrunch up my nose and shake my head. “No, thank you,” I decline. “I’m not much of a drinker.” Particularly not spirits. Last time I had whisky was in Scotland and that didn’t end well.
But Gualtiero doesn’t take no for an answer and pushes it towards me, adamant. “Trust me. You’ll feel better afterward.”
Reluctantly, I take the shot glass from him, our fingers touching. The goosebumps are back immediately and so is the blush.
God, help me!
I hate blushing. So not cool!
Why don’t I have better control over my body?
Sweat beads on my forehead, but I refrain from wiping it.
I bring the glass to my lips and down it in one go. The alcohol burns in my throat and all the way down to my stomach, but I take it… welcoming anything that loosens the tension between Gualtiero and me.
Have I ever had such a visceral reaction to anyone? Our connection seems inexplicable, seeing we only just met.
“That was awful!” I exclaim, coughing, pulling a face as if I had bitten into a lemon. Gualtiero chuckles. Oh my, he looks beautiful when he laughs… younger and more carefree, and downright edible.
He uncaps the bottle of water and passes it to me. I don’t hesitate and gulp the water greedily, trying to wash away the burning sensation in my mouth.
Watching me closely, Gualtiero turns serious again. “You saved my life,” he says with gratitude in his voice.
Oh my, my, my. Have I mentioned his voice yet?
It’s rich and deep and velvety, with a slight Italian accent… I melt just listening to the few words he’s spoken thus far.
I imagine myself listening to him reading me a bedtime story—now that’s a delicious thought! Though, I don’t think I’d be lulled into sleep… quite the opposite.
The deep timbre of his voice alone could wake up my girlie parts from their coma… no scrap that. They’ve already woken up and are well and truly alive—my damp panties the proof.
“How can I thank you?” Gualtiero asks, interrupting my daydream.
“You don’t need to.” I’m quick to wave him off. “Any decent person would have done the same.”
He looks at me for a long while, his expression hard to read. “I’m indebted to you, Ella. Let me at least take you out to dinner… as a thank you.”
Run, run, run…I tiny voice inside me yells.
