Eli sighs, steepling his long fingers together. “I’m not used to explaining myself. But I will try for you. You’re beautiful, exceptionally beautiful, and I want to be the first man to slide my cock into your pristine cunt…”
I choke on my wine but Eli carries on. “…but more than that, I like the way you think. The day I released you from your cage, you went into my kitchen and cleaned my house and cooked for my men. I don’t understand why you did it, but it fascinated me. I’m not someone who sees a lot of new things, but you… you are new to me.”
He looks at me as though there’s an obvious response to this that I’m not giving him. “I… appreciate that you can say ‘I released you from your cage’ without it sounding weird…?” I venture.
Eli laughs. “That’s something else. You’re quite funny,bella.”
I duck my head.
“Don’t be embarrassed. Surely, you’ve been told this before?”
“Sometimes. I guess Margot and my friends laughed at things I said, but that was mostly because they didn’t make sense.”
“Hmm.” Eli sets his jaw. It makes him look like a forbidding TV show dad and that realization makes another hot squirm go through me.
Our host returns with a tray of espresso and sugar-dusted biscotti. He sets a balloon-sized glass of brandy in front of Eli. “Would you like anything else, Mr. Morelli?”
“No, thank you,” Eli says, his eyes on me. “We would like to be alone now, Miguel.”
“Of course, sir.”
The host glances at me as he backs away and I notice he’s red in the face. “He must be tired from climbing the stairs all night,” I say.
Eli grins. “I promise I make it worthwhile in tips.”
He picks up his brandy and swirls it into a golden whirlpool. The liquid is the exact same color as his eyes. “Come here, Miss Whitehall.”
“You mean… sit in your lap?”
He nods.
It might be awkward, sitting on his knee like a child, but after all the talking and laughing, the idea seems nice. I select a biscotti and walk to Eli. He pulls me into him, tucking me close. “Ecco la mia brava bambina.”That’s my good girl.
I sit in his lap and nibble my biscotti. His body is warm at my back. Warm and powerfully hard. Beneath his suit, he’s as muscular as any of the others. I imagine him being bossed around by a gargantuan personal trainer and the thought makes me smile.
Eli strokes my cheek. “There’s that smile again. Are you enjoying yourself?”
I open my mouth to say yes and out of nowhere comes the blank, freckled face of Emilia. Who am I to be having fun with a guy while she’s trapped with Mr. Parker? The biscotti turns to dust in my mouth.
“What is it,bella?”
“I am having a good time, but it’s hard to enjoy myself when I remember my Zia and Emilia and Adriano and everything else.”
“I see.”
“Sorry.”
“Do not apologize for being a sweet girl.” Eli presses his nose into the side of my neck. “There is a zen poem. It goes,‘the clouds above us join and separate, the breeze in the courtyard leaves and returns. Life is like that, so why not relax? Who can stop us from celebrating?’”
I think on the words Eli just recited. Zia Teresa wouldn’t have said anything like that, but she lived her life that way. Easily. Aware the future could be scary, but never afraid of it. “That’s pretty.”
“It’s true,” Eli says, kissing my cheek. “And now you are smiling. I’ve cured you with my wisdom.”
I laugh. “I’m just amazed to be on a date with a man who quotes poetry.”
“Tease me if you have to, but the poets are right. You can control little in the world, and life isn’t fair. But you do not make it fairer by cursing your bad luck. You accept the present and enjoy as much as you can.”
“It’s that easy?”
