I flattened my hand on his chest and smiled. “It would be most desirable to wed a man as generous as you are and a sin to deny such a proposal, but I already have someone who speaks to my soul, just like the music did.”
Elio looked away.
Kareem smiled. “It is a shame. Your someone is fortunate; they should kiss the ground you walk on. If they don’t, you should leave them.”
I laughed wistfully. “If only that were possible, Kareem. The man in question complements my being. You can’t leave someone like that.”
Elio looked back, locking eyes with me from underneath his lashes. His face still wore no expression, but those eyes… the way he looked at me… My body flushed with heat.
He turned his face away again.
“Allow me to introduce you to my companion today,” Kareem said, gesturing to Elio. “This is Elio Marino, the most genuine and generous man I have ever met.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Marino.”
“Hm.” Elio gave what could be considered a nod if you looked close enough.
Kareem regarded him with a smile. “What did you think of the performance, Marino?”
“Good.”
This mother—
Kareem laughed, looking back at me. “A ‘good’ from him is like heaven’s blessing. He is a man of few words.”
“I can see that.” I smiled, lowering my tone. “Thank you for your very kind word,sir.”
He stiffened, hesitated, then gave another infuriating “Hm.”
He put the cigar between his lips, indicating he was done talking.
Kareem indulged me in a conversation about how he was excited to be on the cruise; he also invited me to all his events here and within Mexico until the end of the cruise.
I knew I had him wrapped around my finger.
Mission accomplished—for that part.
Elio didn’t speak again, acting as if I were nonexistent.
He only looked at me when I rose to get myself a strong drink at the bar.
It irked me that he was pretending I wasn’t there.
I took the shot the bartender placed in front of me and threw it down my throat. The tension in my muscles relaxed almost immediately at the burn.
“Zahra Faizan.”
The drink almost came back up my throat as I snapped my head to the side, and the burn became hotter when my eyes took in the person the voice belonged to.
Bright, almost blue eyes stared back at me, a small crooked smile on his lips as he leaned against the bar, gloved hands, like his cousin’s, holding a whiskey glass. He wore a dark gray long-sleeved shirt that broadcast his biceps, and black slacks over solid thighs, a familiar form I had not expected to see here.
A form I shouldnotbe seeing here.
“Vitale Conti,” I stated.
His eyes twinkled. “That was quite a performance. To think you were holding out on me all those times.”
Almost like I could feel his eyes on me, I turned in Elio’s direction, and yeah, he was watching.
