“My nona told me the pies from the bakery here are amazing. We used to get them when I was a kid.” Suddenly, I can almost taste the strawberry and rhubarb, the apple, the blueberry.
“You’re from around here?”
Oops. That backfired.
I give him my standard answer. “I’m from the north.”
“We’re in the north. Are you telling me you’re from around here? You never said.”
I can’t share the name of my family estate. That could give the game away, if he’s even aware of what happened to my family. Instead, I give him the name of the little town a few kilometers from what was once our gate.
“Campoverde?” he repeats in surprise, lifting his head from the pillow. “But that’s not far from here. You’re a local.”
“Not really. I don’t remember coming to this town before.”
“But you know the pies.”
“I do.”
He relaxes back onto his pillow. “That’s settled then.”
“What’s settled?”
“Pie for breakfast.”
I let out a light laugh. “A man after my own heart.”
There’s silence for a beat before he replies quietly, “I am.”
Instantly, my belly butterflies take flight, and I clear mythroat in a vain attempt to halt their progress. But here’s the thing about lying in a bed with a man, talking about things that matter to you, opening up more than you have with anyone before. It brings you closer to him, it makes you want things you can’t have. It makes you want to open up to him, to tell him who you really are.
I want to be the real me with him, Valentina Romano.
But it would mean risking everything if I was.
Chapter 22
Max
I’m cocooned in warmth and comfort, my heart telling me this is exactly where I’m meant to be, right here, in this moment. The cool of the night air has given way, and as I open my eyes, blurry in the soft morning light, I can hear the gentle patter of rain against the window, and the sound of soft, rhythmic breathing.
I let out a contented sigh, increasingly aware of a weight on my chest. I blink a few times as I look down to see a trail of golden hair across my shoulderlike silk, an arm slung high across my belly, a hand placed loosely on my arm. Fabiana is breathing in and out, in and out, a soft, steady rhythm that somehow manages to be both comforting and utterly exhilarating.
The wall of pillows is discarded on the floor, and somehow, in the night we gravitated to one another, becoming entwined in a way that makes me want to stay like this forever.
This is both the best and worst way I could start the morning.
Best because having her this close, having her breath against my skin, watching her face completely relaxed in sleep, is everything I didn't know I was desperate for.
Worst because I'm acutely aware that this is undoubtedly an accident of sleep rather than a conscious choice, and any moment now she's going to wake up, realize our current configuration, and probably leap out of bed in horror.
So, I’m memorizing every second of this. How she feels against me, the softness of her skin, her warm breath on my chest.
Despite my instinct to drop a kiss on the top of her head, to wrap my arms around her and hold her close, I don’t dare move. I don’t want this moment to end. I want to lie like this with her in my arms, together, our breathing synced, our hearts as one.
She shifts slightly, and I freeze like a guilty man caught stealing the crown jewels. I’m stealing moments of intimacy with her that don't technically belong to me.
Yet.
