His gaze moves over the dance floor, and I watch him watching the crowd. There’s something in his expression I can’t read. He’s not uncomfortable, exactly. Just alert. Aware of where he is and what’s around him.
A guy brushes past me, close enough that I feel the press of his body, and I shift to give him space. The water is ice-cold, and I drink half of it in one go. I need to relax. I need to stop thinking about Blaine showing up at the villa and about the way Marshall’s hand felt on my back earlier.
I’m here for distraction.
We stand at the bar for a while, finishing our waters, not talking much because the music makes conversation nearly impossible. Marshall flags down the bartender and orders a beer. I don’t stop him. He’s an adult. He can handle himself.
I’m about to suggest we find somewhere to sit when a guy appears beside me. He’s good-looking, younger than me, mid-twenties maybe. Dark, curly hair, light eyes, strong jawline. He’s wearing a fitted white shirt that shows off a lean build, and he’s smiling at me like he knows something I don’t.
“Hey,” he says, leaning in close so I can hear him. “I’m Luca.”
“Gabriel.”
“You visiting Como?”
“Staying nearby for a few weeks.”
His smile widens. “Lucky me.”
I force myself to smile back. He’s attractive and confident, exactly the kind of distraction I came here for. I can do this.
“Are you here with friends?” Luca asks, his eyes flicking briefly to Marshall before coming back to me.
I nod toward Marshall. “Just my wingman.”
Luca glances at Marshall again, and Marshall gives him a polite nod before turning his attention back to his beer. Luca looks at me, and there’s something assessing in his gaze, like he’s trying to figure out if Marshall is competition.
“He’s cute,” Luca says.
“He’s straight.”
“Shame.” Luca shifts closer, and I catch the citrusy scent of his cologne. “But that means I get you to myself.”
Luca is exactly what I asked for tonight. I know that. But my attention keeps sliding back to Marshall, who’s standing a few feet away, giving us space. He’s staring at his beer bottle, peeling at the label, and his mouth is set in a line that looks almost grim.
“So what do you do?” Luca asks, pulling my attention back.
“Interior design.”
“Ah, creative. I like that.” He leans against the bar, his body angled toward mine.
The conversation continues, light and easy, and I make an effort to engage. I ask him what he does—something with finance; I stop listening halfway through—and where he’s from. Milan, originally. He’s here visiting friends for the weekend. He asks me more questions, and I answer them, and the whole time I’m aware of Marshall standing just out of reach, silent and brooding.
Luca finishes his drink and sets the glass on the bar. “You want to dance?”
I hesitate. Dancing means leaving Marshall alone. “I don’t want to leave my friend by himself.”
Luca glances over at Marshall, and his eyes light up as if he just solved a puzzle. He turns and waves at someone across the bar, and a moment later a woman approaches. She’s gorgeous: tall, with long dark hair that falls in waves past her shoulders, wearing a black dress that hugs her curves. She stops beside Luca and looks between us with an amused expression.
“This is my friend Sofia,” Luca says. “Sofia, this is Gabriel.”
Sofia extends a hand, and I shake it. Her grip is firm and confident. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
Luca gestures toward Marshall. “That’s Gabriel’s friend, and he needs someone to dance with.” He looks at me. “Why don’t all four of us go dance? That way no one’s left out.”
I glance at Marshall. He’s watching us now, his eyes on Sofia, and I see the moment he registers what’s happening. Hisexpression doesn’t change, but I know him well enough to catch the slight squaring of his shoulders.
