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My spine stiffened at the deep, unexpected voice behind me. It was so close I could feel the rumble of words against my back. They slid over me like sun-warmed honey—rich and sensual, with a faint Italian accent that made every nerve ending tingle with pleasure.
Thick black hair. Olive skin. A slightly crooked nose that enhanced rather than detracted from his ruggedly masculine charm.
My future husband was devastation poured into a suit.
Fuck revenge being a dish best served cold; my motto has always been strike fast, strike hard, and strike true.
Who needed therapy when you could punch your friend in the face every week?
Whether I liked her or not, Vivian was my fiancée, and I was getting damn tired of hearing her name leave his mouth.
It turned out the delicate little rose had some steel in her spine after all.
Vivian’s laugh evoked a strange sensation in my chest. Heartburn? Investigate later.
Every nerve ending sparked with awareness, sending goosebumps down my spine and oxygen out of my lungs as our gazes met.
his attention somehow touched every inch of my body until it came alive, like a black and white film thrown into technicolor.
Dante’s voice and use of the term mia cara should be outlawed. They were too lethal to unleash on an unsuspecting female population.
Tiny sparks ignited all over my body, and my heart fluttered with a wild rhythm I was sure couldn’t be healthy.
“You forget.” I pressed my fingers against her nape, forcing her to look up at me. “You’re my fiancée. Not Kai’s. Not anyone else’s. I don’t give a fuck how handsome they are or what type of accent they have. You’re mine, and no one…” I dipped my head, my lips brushing hers with each word. “Touches what’s mine.”
“I’m an asshole, yet you’re dripping all over my hand.” I kept my thumb on her clit while I slipped a finger inside her. “What does that say about you?”
She wasn’t my wife yet, but she was mine. No one threatened what was mine.
Not just the voice, but the intelligence, loyalty, vulnerability and humor that lurked deep, deep beneath his grumpy surface.
“How does he look at me?” Janis smiled. “Like he never wants to look away.”
Christian smiled. Few things animated him more than ripping the skeletons out of someone’s closet.
Unfortunately, the bastard possessed an eerily accurate radar when it came to other people’s weaknesses. Not that Vivian was my weakness.
“I hate the idea of you touching anyone else, or anyone else touching you. I hate that other people can make you laugh in a way I can’t. I hate how I feel around you, like you’re the only person that can make me lose control when I. Don’t. Lose. Control.”
This close, I could see the hints of gold in his eyes, like flecks of light in a sea of darkness.
“Because you’re mine.” His teeth scored my neck. “You wear my ring. You’ve come on my face and hand. You live in my head all the fucking time, even if I don’t want you to...” His palm slid to my hip, where his fingers dug grooves into my skin. “And God, I want to punish you for driving me so damn crazy. Every. Single. Day.”
The butterflies took flight again, soaring so high the velvety tips of their wings brushed my heart.
“You can’t see the stars in New York,” Dante said. “So I brought the stars to you.”
It wasn’t her; it was some Stepford clone version of her that only showed up when Francis and Cecelia were in the room, and I hated it.
“Nice way to spin it. Are you sure it’s not because you have separation anxiety?” I teased. “I didn’t use to.” His eyes held mine like a lone flame flickering on a cold winter night. “But I’m beginning to think I might.”
Like I said, I’d been to Paris many times. But this was the first time I was actually falling in love in the City of Love.
I’d never been logical when it came to her. She was my one spark of selfishness in a lifetime of reason.
Realization punched me in the chest, so hard and sudden I swore I heard a crack. Bruised heart, fractured ribs, stolen breath, all in the space of a minute. It was like my body was punishing me for not recognizing the truth earlier when it’d been so damn obvious. The way I’d stayed in bed longer every morning just to catch her first smile of the day. The way our takeout lunch dates became my favorite part of the work week. The way I’d opened up to her about my family, my life, myself… And the way watching her walk away on Monday had cost me an irretrievable piece of my soul. The breath left my
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When I was around him, it was easy to lose myself, no matter how upset or heartbroken I was. My ability to breathe ceased when his eyes connected with mine.
“I love you, Vivian. More than I could ever hate your father. And more than I ever thought I was capable of.”
I loved the way his smiles peeked through his scowls. I loved how he kissed my shoulder every morning when I woke up. I loved his humor and intelligence, his strength and vulnerability, his thoughtfulness and ambition.
I suppressed another smile and arched a skeptical brow instead. “Are you always this persistent with women you meet in a coffee shop?” “Only those I can’t stop thinking about,” he said, his eyes steady on mine.
We were tangled in such a complicated web, but for a moment, I let myself get swept away by the fantasy of us as a normal couple. Normal first meet, normal dates, normal relationship. Just a woman wanting a man who wanted her back.
She hadn’t picked up the rest of her belongings yet, and I didn’t know whether it was a blessing or a curse. A blessing, because it gave me hope she would return. A curse, because everywhere I turned, there she was. A beautiful, haunting presence I felt but couldn’t touch.
I had all the money in the world, but it couldn’t buy me the only thing I wanted. Her, back by my side.
His amusement following my groan was a cool glass of water on a hot day, and the atmosphere was comfortable enough to sink into as we settled around the table.
Love wasn’t always about the big moments. More often, it was tucked in the small moments connecting the major ones.
The air was alive with the sweet scents of nature, but I barely noticed. I was too distracted by Dante’s scent and the heat emanating from his body.
Sunlight dappled through the foliage, turning Dante’s eyes into the color of rich, molten amber.
The air sparked, a lit match in a pool of gasoline.
Dante’s presence was like an invisible shield protecting me from the rest of the world.
The moon cast Dante’s face in light and shadow—sharp lines and bold features, but with a softness in his eyes that slayed me.
Because if I could go back in time and stop your father from blackmailing me, I wouldn’t. Otherwise…” His voice dipped, just the tiniest fraction. “I wouldn’t have met you.”
“I thought you said my talent was looking pretty,” I teased. “Pretty and scary.” An impish smile curved her mouth. “They’re not mutually exclusive.” “Good to know, but no, I didn’t murder anyone,” I said dryly.
“I spent thirty-seven years thinking my perfect match didn’t exist. You proved me wrong in less than one. And even though we didn’t do it right the first time, I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance to prove myself a second time.”
Vivian once told me about a Chinese proverb that said an invisible thread connected those destined to meet, regardless of time, place, and circumstance. I felt the phantom tug of that thread now, stretching between us and vibrating with the promise of something only fate could deliver.
A part of me would always find my way to her. She was my North Star, the brightest jewel in my sky.
“I’m not Mrs. Russo yet. There’s still time for me to live out my runaway bride fantasy,” she quipped. A wicked smile spread across my lips. “I do love a good chase.”
“Impatient as always,” Vivian teased when we broke apart. Her face was flushed with pleasure and laughter. “We’ll have to work on that. Patience is a virtue.” “I never claimed to be virtuous, sweetheart. Sinning is more fun.” Another wicked grin. “As you’ll find out tonight.”
