It was to the point that she’d even sniffed this morning’s Post-it note like a creep because his scent, which she’d figured out smelled like a mix of Italian bergamot and dark berries, lingered on it.
It read:
I know you have a long day ahead of you so I made you a more nutritious breakfast. I hope you’ll be a good girl and eat it all. Also, thank you for trusting me yesterday. If you need anything just give me a call. I’ll be home late.
— Nicolas
On the movie set, she struggled with her concentration, doing take after take. Everyone thought something was wrong with her, which wasn’t very far off, but it wassomeonenot something that was throwing her off balance. Eventually, she got it and her work wrapped up with success.
When she was escorted home by the bodyguards, Emily spent her time watching TV in the dimly lit living room, waiting for Nicolas. She convinced herselfLa Dolce Vitawasthatengaging, though she’d watched it a thousand times. Accompanied by a glass of wine from Nicolas’s collection and a bag of potato chips, she was having the time of her life.
The clock struck eleven when Nicolas made it home. Mid-sip, Emily adjusted herself, back leaning against the couch and pulling her feet to her chest.
He paused when he saw her.
“Why are you still up?” he inquired. “You had a long day. You should get some rest.”
“It’s the weekend tomorrow. I can stay up.”
His eyes flicked from the snack on the table to the wine glass she’d finally set down, then back to her—first her gaze, then the way she was wrapped in the blanket.
He shrugged off his last layer of outerwear before surprising her by settling onto the couch beside her.
“What are you watching?” he asked quietly, his eyes taking in the action on screen.
“La Dolce Vita,” she said in her most exaggerated Italian accent, making his lips turn upward.
He watched the crew and their antics before something occurred to him. “There’s no English.”
She laughed. “No shit Sherlock.”
He stared at her, now wide-eyed. “Are you drunk? How many glasses have you had?”
“I’m not drunk…” His gaze narrowed. “Okay, maybe I’m a littleeee drunk, but that’s okay. I’m at home.”
His eyes softened. “Yes, you’re at home.”
She watched him out of the corner of her eyes. “It’s more fun this way.”
His brows furrowed. “What’s more fun?”
She pointed to the screen.
“Watching the movie?” he asked. “Is this some kind of learning routine?”
“Nope.” Was all she said.
His mouth opened and she thought he’d ask her how much of it she understood or if she needed him to translate for her, but he didn’t. Instead what left him was, “Can I share the blanket with you?”
Her lips twitched. “Is this you trying to get lucky again, buddy?”
A half-grin came. “If it were, would you allow it?”
She shook her head. “No.”
His expression faltered a bit, but he scooted closer. “Why? I thought you liked what we did.”
She sniffled, making him stretch across and bring the blanket further on her left shoulder it slid off of.
