It’s only the beginning of July. It won’t happen, even in my wildest dreams.
I extend my gratitude and explain my predicament, but he won’t take no for an answer, making it even harder for me to turn down.
“Think about it for a couple of weeks. We will talk again when you return from Paris, si?”
How can I say no to this sweet old man? “Okay, we will talk then.”
I love how he remembered that Sadie and Wills are getting married there. Mr. DeLuca is a great listener. While I visited them in Italy during a work trip, we often sat with our cappuccinos in the early morning, sometimes quietly, but most of the time, he liked to hear about my life.
He’s a good man.
After kissing them goodbye, I look at my watch and see it’s much later than expected. Lola should be here any second. I asked her to meet so we could have drinks no matter how the meeting went.
I had preemptively taken the rest of the day off just in case.
“Annabelle,” Romeo calls after me as I head to the bar. His beautiful, silky Italian accent makes my name roll off his tongue like magic.
“You will join me for a drink, si?”
Yes, yes, yes, you beautiful, sexy man, you. But only in my dreams.
Romeo is all things amazing about an Italian man. He’s tall, dark, and handsome, with the biggest brown eyes I’ve ever seen.
Full lips, strong hands, sexy accent.
I could go on forever, but I need to get myself together.
He’s my client’s son, who will be working alongside us now, more than he has in the past.
I won’t go there.
Even though it’s clear that every time Romeo looks at me, it’s as if he wants to eat me alive.
“Bella?” He smirks with a knowing look.
“Annabelle?” I whip my head around to see Lola wide-eyed, staring between Romeo and me.
I kiss Romeo goodbye again, you know, for good luck. “Maybe next time. I’m meeting with my co-worker about another project. I’m so sorry.” I point to Lola.
“Ah, okay, Bella. Don’t worry. I will see you soon,” his deep voice says with more meaning than it should.
His eyes linger, glancing down at my lips once before turning and walking away.
“Holy crap! Who. Was. That?” Lola dramatically fans off her face. “And why can’t I ever meet anyone who looks like that?”
I bite my lip and cringe. “That was Romeo.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh hell.”
“I know,” I whisper as we watch Mr. Hottie walk away, snapping us out of our Italian Stallion-induced fog.
She assesses me carefully. “Sooo?”
The second she switches the subject, I let down my guard. I extend my arms out to her, and as soon as she gets close enough, I pull her into me and let the tears come.
I needed this.
“Are we drowning our sorrows, or are these tears of happiness?”
