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“I’m sure you would’ve found a way out of it. You’re a Russo,” I teased.
“Yes, but the paperwork would’ve been a pain in the ass.”
“You love paperwork. That’s what you do all day.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just insult me horribly in the middle of what’ssupposedto be a romantic last night in Paris.” He sounded wounded, but mischief glinted in his eyes.
I laughed before asking, “Do you ever think about what you would’ve been if you hadn’t been born a Russo?”
His life had been set from day one. But where would he be if he could’ve chosen his own path?
“Once or twice.” Dante shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. “I never know the answer. Work takes up most of my time, and while I enjoy my hobbies—boxing, tennis, travel—I wouldn’t have entertained them as careers.”
I frowned, strangely saddened by his answer.
“I’m a businessman, Vivian,” he said. “That’s what I was born to be. I enjoy my work, even if certain aspects are not always fun. Don’t think I’m throwing my life’s passion away to toil in a corner office because I feel obligated to.”
I suppose he was right. Dante—brash, bold, charming when he wanted to be but aggressive when provoked—was born to rule the boardroom. I couldn’t imagine him in any other role other than CEO.
“And you?” he asked. “If not event planning, what would you be doing?”
“I want to say I’d be an astronomer, but honestly, I’m terrible at math and science,” I admitted. “I don’t know. I guess I’m like you. I’m happy doing what I’m doing. Event planning can be stressful, but it’s fun, creative…and there’s nothing more satisfying than taking an idea and bringing it to life.”
A smile touched his lips. “So we’re both happy where we are.” The velvet weight of his words made my heart flip.
“Yes,” I said. “I suppose we are.”
The air turned thick and humid with meaning. I hesitated, then added softly, “I’m glad I came to Paris.”
Dante’s eyes were a lit match against my skin, bright and hot enough to burn.“Me too.”
We stared at each other, our food forgotten. The weight of a dozen unspoken words sat between us and threatened to spill into the silence.
Before they could, a harsh ring yanked our gazes apart and toward his phone.
He let out a low curse in Italian. “I’m sorry. I have to take this,” he said. “Work emergency.”
“It’s fine,” I reassured him. “Do what you have to do.”
He pushed back his chair and answered the call on his way toward the exit.
I finished my course, but I was so distracted I barely tasted the langoustine.
I’m glad I came to Paris.
Me too.
Even in Dante’s absence, my pulse raced like it was competing for Olympic track and field gold.
Like I said, I’d been to Paris many times.
But this was the first time I was actually falling in love in the City of Love.
CHAPTER31
Dante
“We found all of them.”
