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)
“Whoa. Okay. Sorry.”
I try to laugh it off. “I don’t want to snap, but hell, do you not know how attractive you are?”
“Do you remember what I told you in the limo?”
“That you’re a virgin?” When she flinches, I say, “That’s nothing to be ashamed of. Maybe you’ve been saving yourself for marriage.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ve never had a boyfriend. I’ve never wanted one. Ever since the fire, I’ve just wanted to act and be somebody else. Forget the girl who lost everything. Just act but never grow attached to anyone. I never even wanted to be an actor before the fire. After, it’s the only thing I wanted.”
Tears crystalize in her eyes. I pull my chair around the table, putting my arm around her and gently wiping the tears from her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” she sobs.
“You don’t have to be.” It would be far better if she knew which cutlery to use, son. Damn. Why am I replaying my father’s words now? “It can’t be easy.”
“I was doing a good job of stuffing it all down until Aunt Rosa went off earlier today.”
“Went off?”
“She said the fire wasn’t an accident. She said it was her fault, but she’s ill. The other week, she believed she could fly.” She laughs bravely through a sob, then flicks back through the magazine. “What about this one?” She points to a traditional dress.
I look at it, imagining it wrapped around Elena’s curvy body.
“I take it that smile means you like it?”
“I think it would suit you,” I say.
She smooths her hand down my arm and takes my hand. It’s all an act, but it doesn’t feel that way. If my father knew … but he doesn’t. If the Romano problem escalates, she’ll be in danger, but here and now, she’s safe. She’s with me.
“Can you imagine standing at the altar as I walk up the aisle in it?”
I close my eyes and picture the scene. Unexpected emotion grips me: joy, desire, excitement, and expectation. “Yes,” I admit huskily. “I can.”
“I’ll put a big circle around that one, then.”
I open my eyes, let her hand go, then stand up. I do it too fast, causing my chair to fall backward. I get a sudden image of the Romano man we tortured when his chair fell over after Allessio hit him. It’s like the two worlds are crashing together.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, looking up at me with still-glistening eyes.
“Yes, I just have work, that’s all,” I say, turning to leave, but then I turn back. “Elena, I want you to know that I’d never assess your worth based on how you speak, how you dress, the books you like, or any of that crap. My opinion of you comes from you.”
“Then you’re an odd one out among the Morettis, Dario.”
“I’ve felt that way my entire life—the outsider who also lives within.”
“Thank you,” she says, “for not judging me.”
“You’re a good person,” I tell her. “When this is over, you’re going to do amazing things. One day, I’ll look up at a billboard, and there you’ll be, the star of the show. I’ll have to wait in line to get your autograph.”
She looks hurt that I’ve referenced the end of this so-called relationship. “Yeah,” she murmurs, returning to the magazine. “What a scene that’ll be.”
I turn away, hating I caused that hurt in her eyes. “Anyway, I’ve got to get to work.”
With my back turned, she grumbles, “Work.” There’s bitterness in her voice. I wonder if she’s trying to make a point, maybe a way to get back at me for reminding her this entire thing has an expiration date.
I turn to face her again. “Is there something you want to say to me?”
“No, except … have a good day. Try not to stress too much. I hope you have lots of fun conversations next to the water cooler.”
Even with the tension between us, I enjoy her sassiness and bravery. Few women would ever dream of talking to the Moretti prince like she does, and Elena does it so naturally, as though speaking to me in any other way has never even occurred to her.
“I know what you’re getting at,” I growl.
“Do you always care this much about the opinions of your employees?”
“You’re not my employee,” I snap.
She closes the wedding magazine with an air of finality. “What am I, then?”
The only woman I’ve ever given a damn about. I look at her for a long moment, deep into her perfect eyes, wanting so badly to lean down and kiss her again. Yet I hold myself back. She’s right; our worlds can’t coexist for long—maybe for a short time, maybe for a scam, but not forever.
Without replying, I leave her there.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ELENA
“Iwould just like you to give me a concrete reason I can’t visit the theater,” I tell Rocco, my driver and mafiosi bodyguard.