"It's totally a guy! Is it Rogers? Did he text you before your date? That's actually kind of cute, in a desperate way?—"
"It's not Rogers." The words come out sharper than I intend.
Amanda's grin fades into something more serious. "Then who?"
I look down at my phone. At the words still glowing on the screen.
You know exactly how I taste.
"No one important," I lie.
She doesn't believe me. I can see it in her face. But she's my best friend, and she knows when to push and when to let things go.
This is a letting go moment.
"Fine." She settles back against my pillows. "Keep your secrets, Tori. But when this blows up in your face—and it will—I want full details."
"It's not going to blow up."
"Mm-hmm."
I look back at my phone. My fingers hover over the keyboard.
I should shut this down. I should block his number, tell Pietro about the stalking, and never think about Dmitri Baganov again. That's the smart play. The safe play.
But when have I ever played it safe?
One kiss doesn't mean I want you.
His response is immediate.
Keep telling yourself that, princess. I'll see you Saturday.
I frown.
I'm having dinner with Rogers on Saturday.
I know.
Three dots. Then:
Enjoy your meal. I'll be watching.
I sigh.
It comes out heavier than I mean it to.
Amanda's head snaps up.
"Okay, that's it." She tosses her phone aside. "You've been sighing and blushing and acting weird for the past ten minutes. Spill."
"It's nothing."
"Vittoria Maria Sartori."
The full name again. She's pulling out the big guns.
I look at my phone. At the conversation still glowing on the screen. At the wordsI'll be watchingthat should terrify me but instead make my stomach flip in ways I refuse to analyze.
