He was right. She needed to stop lying to herself and accept that this was what she wanted. He was what she wanted. Dante.
“You like ice cream?” he asked as he shrugged off his robe.
Feeling strangely shy and tongue-tied, which she supposed was to be expected as she was still naked beneath the sheets, she nodded.
His smile turned into a grin. “I knew it. I didn’t know which flavours you prefer, so I added a couple of scoops of everything.” He climbed back under the sheets. “Which is your favourite?”
“I’m not fussy.”
“But you must have a favourite. Or shall I guess…? Pistachio?”
“Mint choc chip.”
“Then you are in luck.” He stretched forward to bring the tray closer and handed her one of the two bowls piled high with varying flavours and a spoon. “Mint choc chip, pistachio, chocolate, and rum and raisin, which happens to bemyfavourite.”
He plucked two crumbly chocolate sticks from the plate and stuck them into her bowl, then added two wafers. “There. Now you are ready to eat.” After adding the same accompaniments to his own bowl, he picked up the bottle of rum and poured them both a healthy measure. “When I’ve had a long day, nothing beats eating rum and raisin ice cream out of a pasta bowl and washing it down with a glass of dark rum.Salute.”
She raised her glass a little and took a tentative sip under his watchful stare. Her eyes widened. “Wow. That’s potent.”
“Potent but nice, eh?”
She tried another sip of it and nodded. It had a flavour she could only describe as smoky caramel.
“Now have a spoonful of the ice cream and then take a drink.”
She tried the mint choc chip first, and her eyeswidened again.
“You like?”
She nodded and had another spoonful. “That has got to be the nicest ice cream ever. Which brand is it?”
“My chef made it.”
“You’re kidding?”
“That’s why I pay him such an obscene amount of money. Now have some rum.”
She obeyed, and for whatever reason, the rum tasted even better on her tongue.
Trying all the different equally delicious flavours in turn, Callie thought back to the last time she’d had ice cream.
“What are you thinking that makes you so sad?” Dante asked, noticing the subtle deflation of Callie’s shoulders.
Her eyes caught his, surprise ringing out of them.
“Your body language is very expressive.” He laughed at the colour that put on her cheeks and swooped a hard kiss to her sweet mouth. “You are like one of the ancient books in the vaults,” he murmured, rubbing his nose into her cheek. “You have a hard spine and are written in a different language to all the women I know, but once the language is understood, turning the pages and reading you becomes easy.”
“Erm… Was that a compliment or an insult?”
“An observation. If I were to compliment you, I would tell you that you’re the sexiest woman I have ever come across.”
Callie thought of the willowy, beautiful women men like Dante normally had hanging off their arms. All the money in the world couldn’t transform her into one of those women. “Hardly.”
“Believe me or don’t, but you are. Now tell me why you looked so sad.”
He really wanted to know, she realised, and wished it didn’t make her pang with melancholy. “I was remembering the last time I had ice cream.”
“And?”
