“Maybe I’d prefer that, to be honest. Painting. Playing solitaire all day.” I laugh. “Fuck it. Drop me off. Sofia Calabrese can marry someone else—”
I hear cars honking followed by our driver letting out a string of curse words.
Our car comes to a screeching halt, and a woman wearing a cocktail dress jumps on the hood of our car. Miraculously, she seems unharmed as she falls to her hands and knees, making direct eye-contact with me.
Time slows, then I realize…
“Put the car in park. Hazards on,” I bark at the driver as I lean forward in my seat. He finally stops shouting and does as I say.
Normally, I would be shocked to have some wild woman wearing an odd combination of a dress and trainers jump onto the hood of our car and glare down at us like it’s our fault.
But I’m even more shocked when I realize—this is Sofia Calabrese. I squint just to be sure, but I’ve been studying her face on her social media for so long that I’m certain.
“What the hell?” Elena mutters under her breath.
“Stay here.” I unbuckle my seatbelt.
“You’re getting out?”
“I’m going to say hello to my fiancé.”
“No… that’s her?”
I open the car door and step out before I can respond to Elena. We were driving home from the fashion designer. I thought this was going to be a mundane chore before Sofia’s family was to visit mine. But this just got a lot more interesting.
Sofia remains on the hood of the car, looking dumbstruck. I can’t tell whether she recognizes me. I don’t have any online presence at all, but it’s possible that her family has shown her a picture of me. Despite her disheveled appearance, she looks more beautiful in person than in photographs. Her brown hair, thick and wavy. Her skin, tanned even though it’s the beginning of spring. I know that she’s an athlete, yet I’m still taken aback by the ripple of muscle in her legs as she peers down at me from the car.
Her head snaps towards the other side of the street, and then she pays me no regard by jumping off the hood and trying to sprint away.
I grab her arm and stop her before she can leave.
“Aspetti.” I tell her to wait.
I’m surprised when she responds in perfect Italian. Marco told me should could speak the language, but I assumed she only knew the basics—similar to how little I know English. I can understand it pretty well, and I can read books in the language and comprehend movies with barely any help from the subtitles. But speaking it is another story.
“Sorry. Someone stole my purse, so I’m chasing him. Your car got in the way.” She tries to yank her arm away, but I don’t let her go. Her eyes narrow, and she squares off with me. “Let me go.”
If this were anyone else, I’d let them go so that they could try to deal with the thief. Maybe I’d even help them depending on how antisocial I felt that day. But I know that our families’ meet-and-greet is scheduled in a couple of hours from now, but she might not know that. Marco gave little warning because he’s a spiteful bastard.
I suppose it’s cruel of me to prevent her from getting her purse back, leaving her alone to wonder what to do next. But it’s not like we’re in a dangerous part of the city, and if she burns the next few hours trying to find a police officer to assist her, then maybe this dinner won’t happen. And maybe that will cause Marco to have a big enough fit to call off the entire wedding.
“You scuffed up the hood of my car,” I say. Even though miraculously there are barely any marks from her jumping on it. This was the first thing I thought of to delay her.
She scoffs, looking towards the car. “I’d pay you for the damages. But my purse is missing. Now, let go of me.”
“Were you planning on getting your purse stolen?” I nod towards her feet, questioning her combination of evening cocktail dress and running shoes.
She doesn’t bother answering me; her arm squirms against my grip as I hear the sounds of more honking.
She turns to look towards the source at the same time I do. “Bianca!”
I recognize her from Sofia’s social media. It’s her sister. She’s completely out of breath and crossing the street in the same haphazard fashion that got Sofia into this mess.
Her brow furrows in concern as she looks at me and then to Sofia.
“What’s going on?”
Sofia regards me for a moment then turns to her sister. “They nearly hit me with their car, and now this guy is being a complete asshole. I told him my purse got stolen, but all he cares about are the little scuffs on his car.”
