Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
I shrugged and allowed myself to let the music dictate my movements. My eyes closed, basking in the here and now. I rarely let loose. Dancing at social events in our circles was a statement and show for everyone around. I was being judged constantly and I acted accordingly, but here, amid a crowd of fun-hungry tourists and Parisians alike, I didn’t have to put on a show or pretend. I could be an unfiltered version of myself.
Someone bumped into my back, followed by Santino’s warning growl, and then I felt a strong, warm hand on my back. I didn’t have to open my eyes to know it was Santino. I could feel his protective presence close to my back. Still, I couldn’t resist a quick peek to see him as he danced at my side, tall and strong, shielding me from everyone around, not just with his body but also with his warning expression. I got a little thrill. Our eyes met and I smiled. It wasn’t meant to provoke or tease, for once I just wanted to show Santino my appreciation, for the chance he was giving me to do this, even if it had taken some light coercion.
Maybe it was my imagination but I thought he lightly stroked my back in response, even as his face remained unmoving. The music changed, becoming slower, and the dance floor filled even more, forcing me and Santino even closer together. His hand moved to my side lightly. The touch was still protective but I felt it everywhere. I leaned back, pressing my back to Santino’s front and my head to his chest.
“Anna,” Santino growled.
“Let me enjoy this moment. It’ll pass soon enough.”
Santino lightly squeezed my hip. I wasn’t sure if it was warning or agreement but he didn’t step back and so we swayed to the gentler beat, body against body, his heartbeat pounding against me. His heat scorched me, and the crisp scent of his aftershave flooded my nose. I could have stayed in this moment forever but the music changed once more, back to a fast tune, and we drifted apart. Eventually we moved back to the bar for another drink. Santino settled for something non-alcoholic, always on duty, but I opted for another cocktail.
I could already feel the alcohol take effect, enhancing this new feeling of unbridled freedom.
When we walked home in the early morning hours, me slightly tipsy and Santino as vigilant as always, I could tell that something felt different between us. Maybe it was that Santino for once treated me like a normal woman and not a petulant child and bother. He was almost relaxed and I too felt comfortable in a way I did with very few people. Santino felt a bit like family, in the way that I knew I could trust him and be myself around him. But definitely not in a related way. Nothing about my feelings for Santino was chaste enough for that.
When we arrived in our apartment, Santino settled on the sofa with a glass of Pernod, finally off duty. I hovered in the living room, unwilling to get ready for bed, unwilling to leave, knowing in the morning things would probably be back to normal, to us fighting and Santino keeping his distance and me trying to break through it with teasing and provocation.
“Can I have one?” I asked, motioning at the milky white drink.
Santino stood and poured me a small sip of Pernod in a long drink glass before he added water, apparently the only way to enjoy Pernod.
I settled beside him on the sofa, taking the glass and sniffing at it. I’d never had this drink before and as the strong note of anis hit my nose, I was fairly certain this would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
Santino gave me a sardonic smile. “It’s not an easy drink.”
“I suppose it’s fitting. A complicated drink for a complicated man.” I took a sip and shuddered at the strong note of licorice and alcohol that burned my tongue. I’d need at least a gallon of water to dilute the taste. “Huh.” I blew out a deep breath and suppressed another shudder.
“That’s why you and I aren’t a good idea,” Santino said, surprising me.
I cocked an eyebrow. “Because I don’t like Pernod.”
“You said it yourself. I’m as complicated as that drink.”
“I know you, and I can handle it.”
Santino took another sip, watching me in the strangest way. I raised the glass to my lips again as well, trying to prove a point, which of course led to another wave of shudders as Pernod hit my tastebuds. Santino took the glass from me. “It’s a good thing to know when it’s enough, or when you shouldn’t even start in the first place.”
“Have you never heard of the term acquired taste? Over the years that’s happened with you.”