Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
As we pull up outside the fancy hotel, he says, “Remember, you can’t sass me in here.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be a quiet and obedient employee.”
“Why are you acting like you’d be anything else?” he grunts.
I hide my hurt. I hope so, at least. It shouldn’t exist. Even if he’s being a jackass, he’s got a point. I knew what I was signing up for, but that was before the kiss. That was before he gave me hope for … for what? That his family would accept me? That Aunt Rosa would welcome him? That his life isn’t too dangerous for me? That this all isn’t just an act?
In my head, I hear Giulia. Make it your mantra.
“You’re right. This is just business.”
He flinches as if he has any right to, as if he’s being anything other than jerkish. “Exactly.”
The driver opens the limo door. Dario steps out and then offers me his hand. It might be petty, but I don’t take it. I hold my hand near his and instead climb out myself. His eyes gleam as though he might smile, but he doesn’t.
Leading me into the party, I’m stunned by how extravagant it is. A band plays from a big stage at the front. Servers circulate everywhere. The function room has several large, glittering chandeliers. If I was in a better mood, I might savor it, even relish it. These are the kinds of places I never imagined I would be.
“We should circulate,” Dario says bitterly as we stand at the edge of the room. “Make nice.”
I’ve got my hand on his arm, all for show, doing my best to keep any sass to a minimum. “You don’t sound excited by the prospect.”
“Everything here is fake.”
“Fake is our specialty.”
I’m not looking at him, but I can feel the tension in his body at my words. Apparently, he doesn’t enjoy being reminded of the obvious.
Before we can proceed, a woman around Dario’s age approaches us. She’s glamorous and has a model-like physique, her legs almost entirely displayed. She’s dressed like a nineteen-twenties flapper, complete with a headband.
“Dario, darling,” she says in a British accent. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”
“Victoria,” Dario says. “Elena, this is Victoria Langley, the managing director of—”
“The reason we’re all here, you mean!” she bursts out with a laugh. “And you must be the fiancée we’ve all heard so little about.”
“Allow me to introduce Elena Ro …” Dario hesitates. He almost used my real name. “Esposito.”
She offers her hand. “Charmed.” When I take it, she pulls me in closer. She seems borderline manic. I wonder if she’s on something. “Has Dario told you that, once upon a time, I was going to be his wife?” she says secretively, even though we can both hear her clearly.
“You’re overstating things,” Dario mutters.
“Oh, pooh,” she giggles, still holding my hand but looking at Dario. “There was talk for a time when I made my debut stateside. We were going to make quite the match, weren’t we, Dario darling?”
“If you say so.”
“Am I being terribly rude?” she says, finally turning to me.
I pull my hand away, offering her what I hope is a polished, civilized smile. “You’re not being terrible or rude, Victoria. I wouldn’t resent anyone for lamenting the fact they let a catch like Dario go. Unfortunately for you, it’s too late.”
Victoria’s lip curls, but she quickly plasters on a fake smile. I’m learning that these people rarely, if ever, show how they legitimately feel. She moves as if she’s going to place her hand on Dario’s chest.
Immediately, Dario puts his arm around me. “Excuse us, Victoria. I’m going to get my fiancée and myself a drink.”
I notice people watching us as he leads me through the party, his arm wrapped tightly across my shoulders. Heads turn, not-so-subtly staring. Dario takes us to the bar without looking back.
“What would you like?” he asks, his arm still wrapped around me.
“A soda’s fine,” I reply.
“Nothing stronger?”
“I’m not much of a drinker, and anyway…” I lean up, whispering in his ear, “I need to be on my A game.”
He turns so that his lips almost graze mine. He’s seriously messing with my head. The crazy part is I kind of like it. “People are watching,” he whispers. “It might be time for that show we talked about.”
I impulsively kiss him. He makes that groaning noise I recognize from earlier, but we break it off far quicker this time. I never knew a one-second-long kiss could be flooded with so much passion, but wow, a second longer, and I might have lost it.
After ordering two club sodas, we walk through the party.
I lean in and ask, “Do I seem like I belong?”
“You’ve got nothing to prove to these people.”
“Talk about mixed signals, Dario. I’m here to do a job, remember?”
“You’re doing well,” he says, seeming annoyed at what I’ve just said.