"Sounds like a compliment."
"It's not."
"You said I have a body like that." He gestures vaguely at himself. At the abs. The chest. The shoulders that shouldn't be legal. "That implies you've been looking."
Heat crawls up my neck.
"Hard not to look when you keep walking around half-naked."
"I'm injured. Clothes are difficult."
I push off the doorframe. "Chocolate. Anything else?"
He considers this. "Coffee. Real coffee. Not the instant stuff you have in your cabinet."
"My instant coffee is fine."
"Your instant coffee is a crime against humanity."
"You're dramatic."
"I'm Italian."
I roll my eyes. But I'm still smiling. I can feel it on my face. This strange, unfamiliar expression that doesn't belong here. Not with him. Not now.
"Fine," I say. "Dark chocolate with sea salt. Real coffee. What else?"
"That's it."
"That's it? You're stuck here for a week and all you want is chocolate and coffee?"
He shrugs. One shoulder. Careful not to pull his stitches.
"I'm a simple man."
"You're a lot of things. Simple isn't one of them."
His eyes hold mine. Dark. Warm. Too warm.
"Maybe you don't know me as well as you think."
I swallow.
"Maybe I don't want to."
The words come out sharper than I intended. A defense mechanism. A wall going up.
Dante doesn't flinch.
"Okay," he says quietly.
I turn away before he can see whatever's happening on my face.
"I'll send the list to Sophia."
I close the door behind me.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
