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"You don’t need to understand me; you simply need to focus on your career as a singer."
"Which I will, but what about this afternoon?"
"What do you mean?"
The waiter, a woman this time, wheels in the food and slides the plates in front of us. "Enjoy," she smiles and backs away, pushing the serving cart.
Solene glances down at her food. "You ordered pizza for me?" She looks up. "How did you—"
"You’re from Napoli. Not rocket science to make the connection with pizza."
"Still, you kept in mind I’m from Napoli and ordered a dish that is a specialty of my hometown." Her gaze grows dreamy.
I frown. "Don’t go reading too much into it. It’s our one evening together. I thought you should experience everything you’ve missed out on over the years, and what you’ve been missing since you left home."
"Everything I’ve been missing, huh?" She picks up a slice of the pizza. "Nothing compares to the pizza in Napoli, and—" She bites into a slice of pizza, then moans.
My dick twitches, and blood rushes to my groin. Fucking hell, she’s enjoying her food. That’s all it is. Some of the olive oil smears her chin. She doesn’t wipe it off. She finishes off the slice of pizza, then starts on the next. Then the next. After the fourth piece, she looks at my plate. "You’re not eating?"
"I’m full already." And I am. Watching the sheer joy and satisfaction on her face is a thrill like no other. Interesting.When did I last find such joy in giving?Maybe when I brought my grandmama a pashmina shawl. But other than that? Nope, I’ve been too focused on myself and my career. Too focused on building up my roster of films. A couple of hits don’t mean anything in Hollywood. Sure, I’m well known, but it’s not enough. And while I come from a privileged background, I’ve never touched my father’s money. I’ve always wanted to make it on my own.
Power, fame, fortune—I thirst for them, but I want to earn them myself. And I know I'm talented. From a very young age, all I ever wanted was to act. And the scar on my forehead only made me more determined to succeed. Indeed, it fired me up in a way nothing had before. That, and the thought that, one day, I would take revenge on her. I now know the second wouldn’t make me happy. But the first? The chance to lose myself in a character was the biggest aphrodisiac in my life, until I ran into her again.
I watch her polish off the rest of the slices of pizza, then she leans back with a groan. "That wasbuonissimo." She puts her fingertips together and brings them to her lips. "It was almost like being back in Napoli."
Her features fall a little, and she lowers her arm. "I don’t really miss home. I mean, I couldn’t wait to get away. I still can’t believe I made it out, so I’m not sure why I said that."
"It’s still home."
She glances up at me. "Where’s your home?"
"London, I suppose." It’s close to where I studied and where most of my friends are.
"And your parents?"
"My mother’s no more, and my father runs a business based in a city called Lille in France, just across the border from England."
"So, you’re French?"
"In origin."
"Do you speak French?"
"Only when I’m fucking."
She flushes, then tips up her chin. "You can’t embarrass me."
"Then why are you blushing?"
"I’m not."
"You are."
"It’s the wine." She reaches for my glass then tosses back the dregs. She doesn’t cough this time, nor does she make a face. Sigh. They grow up so fast, don’t they?
When she places the glass down on the table, her cheeks are beet-red.
"You’re going to pay for that, you know?"
