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“I will be as polite as you want me to be.”
“Alright, Mr. Bianchi. Lead the way.”
“Believe me, I plan on it.”
I follow the tall, broad-shouldered man down the hall and accept that I am willingly walking into the flames of hell. Whatever happens between us won’t be without consequences, and in this minute, I couldn’t give a flying fig.
We come to a set of double doors at the end of the hall, and I watch him press his hand against the pad on the wall.Last chance, my brain whispers silently.As ifmy lady parts respond.
Ignoring both, I follow him into the suite, noting it’s as elegant as the rest of the property. He slides his jacket off and drapes it over a chair. Dark shadows play beneath his white shirt, and I wonder if every inch of him is tattoed.
“Drink?”
“Sure.”
He pops a bottle of champagne I’ve never heard of and fills two glasses. The bubbles dance in the crystal flutes, mirroring the feeling in my stomach as I accept the glass.
“To us,” he says, raising his glass to mine. The clink of crystal fills the air as we drink, our eyes never leaving one another.
Moving closer, he rests his head against mine, making me wish I could stop time. “Out of eight billion people on the planet, why are you the one to make me feel this way?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
A knock at the door interrupts the connection. “You should get that.”
Pressing a kiss to my head, he lingers for a second before stepping away.
I suck in a breath and then look around the room. Dimmed lights cast a warm glow over the room, reflecting off the polished surfaces. Is this his home or just a place where he brings…never mind, I don’t want to think about it.
The waiter sets the table near the windows and then disappears almost instantly. Taking Enzo’s outstretched hand, I follow him and try to calculate how long it will take before my resolve vanishes completely.
“Should we do twenty questions?” He refills our glasses. “Or try truth or dare?”
“That is the most awkward question.”
“Not really,” he smirks. “There are at least five circling my brain that would put those two to shame.”
I sip my champagne and feel him study me closely as I gaze around the room. His silence feels like a live wire. No man has ever given me a quarter of the attention, and I don’t know what to do. Sliding my eyes up to his face, I try to picture what it would feel like to have his hands sliding over my body. What kind of lover is he? Tender? Dirty? Rough? Sweet? Perhaps a mixture of all four.
“Tell me when you knew that your card skills were unusual,” Enzo asks, his eyes never leaving mine.
I smile, recalling the memory. “I was sixteen, trying to make a few extra bucks at a seedy underground club. It didn’t take long to realize that my skills were not a fluke. I had a real knack for the game.” I pause, feeling suddenly self-conscious. I rarely talk about how hard I’ve worked to become successful. “The allure of playing wasn’t just about the money. It was the thrill, the challenge… and knowing that I could beat players with years of experience.”
“Sometimes all it takes is a single experience to change a person’s path.”
“Or an unexpected encounter.”
“I assume you’re talking about us.”
“Have we encountered?” I tap my lip. “I’m not sure that we have.”
“Every single time our eyes met, sweetheart.”
I lean forward. “Why now?”
“You asked me that a couple of weeks ago.”
“And I’m asking again.”
