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“You should finish packing.”
He doesn’t move an inch, so I turn back to face him.
“Can I help you with anything else, Mr. Conti?”
“I’m sorry,” he tells me, directly to my eyes with so much heat and darkness swirling in those silver orbs. “Truly.”
The sincerity and depth to his apology has me almost trembling.
I felt it. I saw it. I could practically fucking taste it. His apology was genuine, but it didn’t feel like he was apologizing for what he did, but for something else entirely.
I just don’t know what.
Chapter Ten
He listens to me.
“You look stunning,” Pax declares, his tone loud and charming as always. He twirls me under his arm and the skirt of my dress fans out. I ended up buying a new one this morning, it’s navy blue and tight to my breasts, fanning out at my waist, and it has a matching cape jacket that I can drape over my shoulders to keep myself cloaked. “Ridiculously stunning. Can we cancel dinner so I can just eat you instead?”
I slap his arm. “Behave.”
He laughs and leads me to his car, a sports car of course, some model of BMW. Absolutely stunning to say the least.
He opens the door for me and offers me his hand as I climb into the seat. It’s no wonder he beds so many women if this is how he behaves all night.
When we’re both buckled in and I’m clutching my purse to my stomach, he grins at me and holds my chin, then he leans over the console and places his lips gently over mine for a fraction of a second.
“Almost forgot to kiss you at the door,” he whispers.
“Aren’t you supposed to do that at the end of the night?”
He wags his eyebrows. “Thank you for the offer. I’d love to.”
My head hits the headrest as I laugh so hard I almost cry. I check my eyes in the mirror to make sure my mascara hasn’t run down my cheeks.
“What are we doing?” I ask quietly when he drives for a while to a part of the city that I don’t know very well.
“You’ll see.”
We end up at a tiny little Mexican restaurant which, ominously enough, is situated at the end of a long, narrow alleyway. We head up a set of stone steps and end up on a beautiful terrace with dangling lights and candles on every table. The roof is sheet plastic so the sun pours through it but not the rain on a dreary day.
According to Pax, who seems to know the owners, they do the best enchiladas in town so that’s what I order.
“How are you with spicy?” Pax asks, sipping his drink that was brought to us a few minutes ago. I’m just having a soda. I need a clear head.
I tap my fingers on the table as I answer, “Average. I like spicy foods.”
“Me too,” he watches me tap my fingers and mirrors the movement. “You do that a lot.”
“Sorry.” I do it twice more to make forty-two and stop.
“Don’t be sorry, it doesn’t bother me. It’s cute. I like all of your little… habits.”
I wet my lips, feeling warmer all of a sudden. “Not many people would say the same.”
“People are too uptight, they let things bother them which really have no effect on their lives at all.”
“That’s actually really true.” I grin at him, seeing him in a brighter light than before.
“Does it annoy Conti? Because, if so, you can always come and work for me?”
“And then we’d never be able to do this again.”
“Smart girl, not mixing business with pleasure. I usually follow the same rule, but for you, I had to make the exception.” He raises his glass and I clink mine against it.
“It doesn’t really count; different departments and we only see each other when you use the wrong elevators or go to see Mr. C.”
Mr. C. Mr. C. Mr. C.
STOP.
I go back to tapping my fingers to stop myself from saying his name six times.
“Are you nervous?” Pax asks, still smiling.
I shake my head. “Not nervous. Just…” I stop my tapping and laugh awkwardly. “I’m so nervous. I have had a huge crush on you for the looongest time so this feels like a Carrie moment to me. As in the horror movie. Not Sex in the City… although that’s cool too.” I can’t believe I just said that.
I take a really large gulp of my drink as he laughs into his.
“You don’t believe this is real?” he asks, looking excited. “How can I prove it to you?”
“You can’t. Only time will tell, I guess.”
He waves for a waiter to get us refills of our drinks and taps his foot against mine under the small round wrought iron table.
We chat, eat, banter, laugh, and the entire time, all I can think of is what number he’s going to be. I really hope he’s in the thousands.
