Page 43 of One Filthy Kiss

Me:Please, Nik, you have to tell me!

I still don’t know who the mystery guy is, but I’m happy for my friend. Her messages were exuberant, liberally sprinkled with smiley-face emojis, and she didn’t mention the movie once.

Is she in love?

I throw back the comforter and sit up, stretching my arms above my head.

AmIin love?

My pulse races and my heart flutters, making me feel lightheaded. This is how I feel whenever I think about Gio, but how am I supposed to know if this is excitement, lust, or something much deeper? I mean, my heart flutters whenever I watch Benson Boone perform a backflip on YouTube, but I’m not in love with him. Or maybe I am, just a little, but that’s different.

My phone vibrates, and I literally can’t think straight when I see Gio’s name appear on the Caller ID.

“Hello?” Wow, even to my own ears, I sound like a giggly flustered teenager.

Get a grip, Meggie, for God’s sake.He’s only the most perfect being to have ever been created, who does the kind of mind-blowing things to you that you read about in spicy romance novels.

“Hello, Meggie.”

Is it normal to love the way my name rolls off his tongue this much? I could come just listening to him say my name.

“I’m flying back to New York today,”

Yep, there goes my heart again. “Did you get everything sorted?”

He pauses a beat too long, but I’m too excited to pay any attention. “Yes. Meggie, I’m sorry about my brother showing up unannounced. We need to talk?—”

“It’s fine, Gio. You don’t need to explain anything.”

I can hear him breathing at the other end of the call. I picture him standing in the dappled shade of a lemon tree, barefoot,his shirt unbuttoned, sunglasses pushed up onto his head, a smattering of freckles across his nose. I know the picture isn’t accurate, and that he’s probably wearing a suit and sitting behind a desk in an air-conditioned office, but my heart gallops anyway.

“Be ready for me, Meggie.”

“I will.”

The call ends with a click.

I float across the room and open the door to Gio’s walk-in closet. Man, the guy owns more suits than Giorgio Armani. Everything is neat, organized, color coordinated. Everything is in its correct place. I cringe when I think about the wonky rail in my bedroom at home, and the sweaters hanging haphazardly alongside jeans, a couple of summer dresses, and a Christmas jumper with a wooly carrot stitched onto Rudolph’s face.

We’re worlds apart, Gio and I. But I refuse to let it dampen my excitement today.

He’s coming back. To me. He could’ve paid Ric to give me some money and make sure that I vacated his apartment before he returned, but he didn’t. He could’ve stayed in Sicily until I got bored and left of my own accord, but he didn’t.

And I’m already wet, thinking about what he’ll do to me when he gets back.

I pull a white T-shirt from the top of a neat stack of identical white T-shirts and drag it over my head.

Amber and I eat soft-boiled eggs and toast soldiers for breakfast, and I tell her that we can do whatever she wants today.

“Can I go see Orion?”

Roma’s chihuahua.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, but Roma is leaving today.”

Her face crumples momentarily, but she quickly recovers when she remembers that Ric promised to take her on the ferry.

“He did?”