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I let out a sigh. “Alright, fine. You drive a hard bargain, Miss De Luca. But I’ll adhere to your terms.”
She immediately relaxes. When I look at her, she’s actually smiling. A real, genuine smile. I guess it helps to know that she’s more than a bargaining chip. I knew she would be mine the moment her photo slid across my desk. My heart actually stutters at the sight. Not that it’s all her fault but if she did that a lot more often, I’d be more inclined to want to spend more time in her presence. To want to drag out more from her.
Instead of driving us home, I take a detour, driving toward a restaurant I have a feeling she might like. When we arrive, Rosa arches an eyebrow.
“What’s going on?”
“A date,” I reply, taking off my seatbelt. “I’m taking you up on your offer to try to make this marriage work.”
Her expression turns pensive. “Twice in one day? What if someone sees us? I thought we were keeping this under wraps until you’re ready to make an official announcement.”
“I don’t particularly care about that anymore, Rosa.”
Wanting to keep us a secret is the only reason a fucker like Alexander could even think to come close to what’s mine.
“Plus, if this is going to be believable we might as well be seen in public together a few times.”
She nods in understanding. I exit the car, moving to open her door. When she steps out, she even allows me to hold her hand. It’s progress. I try but fail to ignore how right her hand feels in mine. It’s dainty, small, but also perfect. Like I was always meant to hold her.
Inside the restaurant, we’re offered seats in a private area. We start talking after ordering some wine and food, and I realize Rosa has some burning questions. Some she can’t wait to get out.
“If I ask you something, promise you won’t bite my head off?”
“That remains to be seen, sweetheart. I do have a tendency to grow fangs every full moon,” I say drolly.
She laughs. “You know what I meant.”
“Fire away.”
“Where did you stay? Before you took over as Don. You weren’t in the U.S.”
My gut instinct is to divert the question, hide my truths, keep them under lock and key. But she’s not asking because she wants to use what I say against me. She’s genuinely curious, and she’s right. If we want this to work, we have to try to get to know each other. It can’t be one-sided.
“I was in London for a while when I was nineteen. Then I went to Italy, South Africa. I visited a lot of countries, actually. Never really settled in one place.”
“Why not? Were you running from something?” she asks softly.
I shake my head. Nothing. Everything.
The demons of my past. The expectations of my future. I was running from my responsibility, trying to ignore my duty. For a little while, I succeeded, until I couldn’t take it anymore and I knew I had to come back.
Rosa doesn’t press the question. I think she can see in my eyes that I can’t provide an answer because she moves on swiftly to her next one.
“So, if you’re so well-traveled, how many languages can you speak?”
I pause to think on it for a second. “Six,” I reply.
Her eyes widen. “No way. How do you know six languages? Which ones?”
I list them for her. “Italian, English, Spanish, French. Those are the ones I can speak fluently. Then I know some Portuguese from staying in Brazil for a while. And I picked up on some Chinese as well, but I’m not as fluent.”
“That’s… impressive,” she says with a small smile.
“My IQ is remarkably high. I pick up a lot of things easily,” I state.
“Humble brag,” she mutters with a smirk. “Maybe you could teach me some French sometime. I’ve always loved to hear it.”
“Sure, sweetheart.” I smirk. “I’ll whisper it in your ear every night before you fall asleep.”
