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She sobs and blinks away tears. “We’re naked.”
What? “I was hoping you’d go for a one-word answer. In fact, yes would improve my current heart failure situation.”
She sniffles through giggles. “When I say yes, this will be our engagement story. We’re naked.”
“Fuck that.” Jesus. Several minutes in and I still don’t know where this is going. “Can we get to the actual answer?”
“It’s not like you asked me the actual question, you idiot.” She laughs through the tears.
I roll my eyes. “Mila Ward, my naked queen, will you marry me?”
She throws herself at me then. “Yes.”
“Finally.” I seize her lips, and then put the ring on her finger.
“It’s beautiful. It looks like those cufflinks you always wear.” She admires her finger.
“They belonged to my grandfather, and this ring was my Nonna’s.”
Mila starts crying, hugging me with way more strength than someone of her stature should have.
“I love you, Gio.”
“I love you too, Princess.”
“I love the ring, but what about the other one?”
“Pawn that shit. I don’t want a reminder of how poorly I treated you. It will never happen again.”
* * *
Andrea
A few months earlier
Strong arms yank me away, and I register Gio’s face before pain blossoms in my jaw.
He punched me. He fucking punched me at my own exhibition opening.
Not that I can blame him. I’m not sure why I kissed his fiancée in front of everyone.
The poor woman must be gagging now. I can’t deal with all the attention, and then I do this shit.
Shit that helps me numb the fear. Trouble that makes me feel alive, real, fearless.
Amidst gasps, I lose my footing and tumble to the floor. A delicate groan reverberates through my mind.
While my brain swims with alcohol and who knows what other substances by now, it still registers a blur of yellow, and the silky skin belonging to that fragile sound.
I brace for impact, but I land on a soft… body. Shit. I took someone down with me. Now the gallery owner won’t be happy about that. Not that she’s been happy about tonight to begin with.
After agonizing over my first exhibition in years, I’ve ensured it won’t be a success. If I fuck it up on purpose, I can’t be blindsided by the critics and other schmucks who call themselves art connoisseurs.
I push up onto my elbows, and meet huge eyes.
The darkest of brown with sparkles of gold in them. They shine with mystery and… pain. Damn it. I probably hurt her.
Still, I can’t move, mesmerized by the beauty underneath me. Her rich, tawny skin tone glows with natural radiance. She’s not wearing makeup. How refreshing.
