Page 140 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

“That’s too bad,” she says. “It led to a pretty interesting night.”

My jaw tightens at that. I shift closer instead, my hand settling at her thigh under the table, just above her knee.

“Doll,” I say quietly, “we’ve already done that twice.” I pause. “All you have to do is say when.”

Color rises in her cheeks, even as she tries to hide it, pushing at my chest to create space. It draws a few more glances, but she doesn’t notice. She’s only looking at me.

“Dance with me,” I say.

“I don’t know how to dance like that.” She gestures toward the floor.

“You don’t have to.” I hold her gaze. “You let me lead.”

She swallows. “Okay.”

I stand and hold out my hand. She takes it, and I pull her to her feet, guiding her toward the floor. Conversations shift as we pass. By the time we step into the open space, people are already moving back, giving us room. I draw her in by the waist, positioning her—her hand settling on my shoulder, mine closing around hers and lifting it to my chest.

“I wish people would stop staring at us,” she says, glancing up at me.

“They won’t,” I say. “You’ll get used to it.” I pause, slightly. “Or you stop seeing me.”

She scrunches her nose. “I mean, I do like you, but—“

“Hey, now,” I laugh, cutting her off.

She wiggles her eyebrows. “What?”

I look down at her, a faint smile pulling at my mouth. “You think you’re cute, don’t you?”

“I know I’m cute,” she says.

“If I thought you wouldn’t be mortified, I’d kiss you right now,” I say.

“You can kiss me,” she says.

I hold her gaze for a second. “Yeah?”

She nods.

That’s all I need. I let her go long enough to take her face in my hands, tilting it up to me. Her grip tightens at my waist as I lean down and kiss her right there in the middle of the floor. The room shifts. Conversations stop. Eyes turn.

Good. Let them see it. Let them understand exactly who she belongs to, and what happens if they forget.

Chapter 49

Katie

The next two weeks pass in a blink, which feels right considering I’ve apparently decided to speed run my entire life. I quit the bar. Sarah was not thrilled, and I know that because she hit me with the silent judgment face she’s perfected over the years. Best friend telepathy is real, and hers is currently screaming this is a bad idea. Now every time I tell her I’m staying at Michael’s again, she stares at me as if she’s waiting for the inevitable crash. Joke’s on her. I’m having a great time.

If he doesn’t pick me up, it’s Luca or Sal. I pretty much never drive my car anymore. It sits in my driveway—a sad little reminder of the life I had two seconds ago. If it were up to Michael, it’d already be gone. He’s brought up getting me a new one more times than I can count. Something “reliable,” like a Mercedes or a BMW, as if those have ever been words that applied to my life. I just stare at him when he starts talking like that. Because I already know if I open my mouth, he’ll shut it down with that calm, unmovable tone and tell me if I’m his girl, he needs to know I’m safe. And apparently, to him, safe comes with a luxury price tag.

When I spend the night, he kisses me before he leaves for work every morning. Then he’s gone, and I’m left in this massive house with nothing to do except enjoy it. I sleep in, eat breakfast in the kitchen, read in the gardens, swim. It’s absurd. I’m living the life of a very rich housewife without any of the actual qualifications for it.

Bella’s taken me to lunch a few times, and I like her more every time I see her. She reminds me so much of how I imagine Beatrice at twenty-six. No nonsense, quick-witted, and maternal enough that you don’t argue with her even when you want to.

A few days ago, Michael showed up with what can only be described as a small art store. He had canvases, brushes, and paints. He kept bringing things in until my living room looked completely different. Then he told me I needed to start painting again. That it would be good for me. I haven’t touched a brush since college. I stopped when my mom got sick because it was something extra, something I didn’t have time for anymore. It felt selfish. It was a luxury I couldn’t justify, and now he’s decided I get to have it back. I don’t even know what to do with that.

Today I meet his whole family. His Aunt Sofia is hosting one of his cousin’s birthdays, and from the way he described it, it’s less a party and more an event. She’s his dad’s sister-in-law and Luca’s mom. Luca’s dad died when he was little. Michael’s parents live in Sicily, so they won’t be there, but everyone else will. This is the first time I’m meeting them, which is a lot of pressure for a single afternoon.