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But before I can finish, the beautiful Russo turns and walks away, leaving me both frustrated and furious. She can try to run from the truth of what we are all she wants, but I will fucking follow her.
Chapter 20
Giulia
Idon’twanttodine with Dante Parisi, but I've backed myself into a corner. I'm also mortified that I couldn't keep tears from springing to my eyes while I tried to break things off with Roberto. God, being pregnant is making my emotions go haywire, and I'm struggling to get them under control.
But I need to. Because no one can know about the baby, this is the best way to protect my secret.
Even if it pains me to see the hurt on Roberto's handsome face.
Before I can lose my moxie, I take a deep breath and navigate the crowd to Dante Parisi, not even glancing at my once-associate from Princeton, who is rubbing against him. Mandi invited everyone she could think of to this party to make up for my lack of natural close friendships. I don’t even remember this girl's name, but I don’t really care about it or that she's feeling up the guy I just proclaimed to Roberto that I "might love."
"Dante," I greet coolly.
To his credit, he gently shoos the girl away before addressing me, flashing a bright smile that I'm sure he's spent time perfecting with many girls over the years.
"At long last, I have been graced with the sweetest rose herself, and I count myself a lucky man. Giulia, you look positively breathtaking in that dress. I don’t know how I managed so long without having your beauty in my life."
Ah, so he's a flatterer. How disappointing. I don’t like hanging out with people who wax poetic, but I still smile, hoping Roberto is watching and seeing howseriousI am about this guy.
To add to the overall effect, I take it further and reach out to adjust his tie, straightening it even though it wasn't crooked. Dante looks pleased with the gesture.
"So glad you approve of my face and wardrobe. I want to speak to you if it's not a bother, alone," I tell him, careful to effuse my words with just enough warmth to pique his interest but not so much that he'll think this is an invitation to hook up in the bar's bathroom.
He beams at me. "I'd love nothing more, my rose. First, can I get you something to drink? In my opinion, everyone needs a bit of alcohol to arm themselves at things like this."
I've been carefully avoiding the bar and hoping no one would notice. Of course, Mandi had noticed because she knew exactly why I'd been avoiding it. She had a cruel little laugh about it, probably finding it as ironic as I do that we're celebrating my twenty-third birthday in abarof all places, given my newly discovered condition.
"I've never felt the need to arm myself with alcohol. It's an inhibitor, so not a reliable weapon."
He blinks. "But surely you drink?"
"Rarely, and only in the comfort of my home or with family or friends. But please, get something for yourself if you like."
Dante still looks miffed, but at least he doesn't look suspicious or read too much into my non-drinking. He follows me to a quiet corner on the opposite side of the room from Roberto and one of his Giovanni companions. The one there is glaring openly at me and speaking in a low voice to Roberto, who I turn my attention away from before he can catch me looking at him.
I've noticed that the other Giovanni here has taken a liking to Mandi. Annoyingly, she seems to also like him, and I know that because she keeps giggling and tucking her hair behind her ears, something she always does with men she's attracted to. I made a mental note to talk with her about how wise it would be to stay away from anyone connected to Roberto's family.
"Well, my rose? Now that you have me all to yourself, what should we discuss?" Dante asks, leaning in a little too close with a hungry gleam in his pale eyes. "Or is this not as private as you'd hoped? Did you want to take me somewhere else?"
I give him a tight smile, mustering the words I've avoided for so long. "Actually, I want you to dine with me tonight. We've put this off for a while, but I'd like to take things seriously between us. Since you're in LA already, I see no reason to keep pushing it back."
He looks me over again, apparently enjoying what he's hearing and seeing. "I'm absolutely all for it, Miss Russo, and I knowjustthe place. It has the best black truffles and scallops you will ever eat."
I'd be willing to bet I ate them earlier today, but I just smile. It's not his fault I'm so familiar with every nice restaurant in town—or that I now prefer the dancing restaurant in San Francisco that I should actively avoid so it won't remind me of Roberto.
He reaches out unexpectedly, and I tense on instinct but force myself to hold still as he winds one of my curls around his finger, and he also presses his other hand a bit too low on my hip. Normally I'd say something scalding or crush his windpipe for daring to touch me without asking, but I'm all too aware that Roberto is probably watching from the other side of the room, and I need him to buy this act.
"Shall we stay here and mingle and dance with your wonderful friends for a bit longer, or would you like to leave now so we can enjoy as much time in each other's presence as possible, my rose?"
I'm allergic to roses, but I don’t bother commenting on his chosen nickname for me—one I'm sure he applies to every other girl he meets.
Trying to be subtle, I immediately glance over my shoulder and regret it. Roberto's eyes bore into mine from across the room, dark and furious as he looked at Dante, touching me and clenching his fists. He looks like he's aching to start a bloody fistfight, and the Giovanni beside him looks equally pissed. Suppose I stay here much longer to convince Roberto how serious I am about Dante. In that case, it might end with a tousle, and the stalemate was broken as Russos and Giovannis go for each other's throats.
Wanting to avoid that, I quickly turn back to Dante and shrug. "Now is just fine. I've mingled enough to slip away without anyone complaining."
He beams at me and leads me toward the exit. I carefully avoid looking at any of the Giovannis except when I pass by Mandi and whisper to her, "Call me later about you-know-what."
