I glanced over at Dez and couldn’t wipe off the smile on my face. He’d put it there and deserved to see it every time that I felt it.
Angelina
After breakfast, Dez took my hand and led me around the corner, past the kitchen.
"Close your eyes again," he said.
"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Immensely." I could hear the smile in his voice. "Eyes closed."
I obeyed, and he guided me forward a few steps before stopping.
"Okay. Open."
I opened my eyes and found myself facing a professional spa setup that definitely hadn't been there yesterday. A massage table, complete with heated blankets. A station with what looked like every nail polish color ever created. Another station with facial products, aromatherapy diffusers already running, filling the air with lavender and eucalyptus. And standing beside it all, a woman in professional attire smiled warmly at me.
"This is Teresa," Dez said. "She's going to take care of you for the next few hours. Massage, facial, mani-pedi—whatever you want. Everything is already paid for, and she's here as long as you need her."
I turned to stare at him. "You hired a spa to come to your house?"
"I wanted you to relax. To be pampered." He picked up the gray lounge set from the chair. "Take this with you. Get changed after your massage. Take your time. Get everything you want done. I'll be working in my office if you need me."
"Dez, I…" I didn't have words.
"Enjoy it," he said softly, kissing my temple. "You deserve this."
Teresa gestured toward a changing screen in the corner. "Whenever you're ready, Ms. Castellano. We'll start with the massage. I do deep tissue, Swedish, hot stone, whatever you prefer. Then we'll move to the facial, and finish with nails."
I looked between them, overwhelmed.
"Go," Dez urged. "I'll check on you in a bit."
The massage was heaven.
Teresa had magic hands that found every knot and tension point in my body and worked them loose with patient, skilled pressure. I drifted in and out of awareness, the heated blankets, aromatherapy, and expert touch combining to turn me into a boneless, blissful puddle.
When she finished, I changed into the lounge set Dez had given me. The cotton was impossibly soft, and I felt like I was being hugged by clouds. The facial came next—cleansing, exfoliating, a mask that smelled like honey and rose. Teresa worked with quiet efficiency, explaining each step, recommending products for my skin type.
A chef, not the same one from breakfast, but equally professional, appeared with herbal tea. Chamomile with honey, perfectly steeped, in a delicate porcelain cup. I was floating on cloud nine.
I'd never been pampered like this. Even when my mother was alive and money wasn't an issue, we'd been too busy building the company to indulge in spa days. This felt decadent. Luxurious. Like I was someone worth taking care of.
Teresa moved to the nail station. "What were you thinking for colors?"
I studied the array of options, overwhelmed by choice. "I'm not sure. What would you recommend?"
"For your skin tone? I'd say something bold. A deep burgundy or a rich coral. Or if you want classic, a nude or soft pink."
I was reaching for a burgundy when the door to Dez's office opened. I heard him approaching from down the hall. He walked in, still in his jeans and t-shirt, looking casually devastating.
"How's it going?" he asked.
"Perfect." I smiled up at him. "This is incredible. Thank you."
"Good." He glanced at the nail polishes. "What color are you thinking?"
"I was going to do burgundy. Or maybe coral."
