I start to deny it, but the words fizzle before they reach my lips. I’ve never been one to hold hands, but I can’t deny I feel calmer than I did before.
Dammit.
“Or maybe that was me,” he adds in a confidential tone. “My last girlfriend told me I could be clingy at times.”
“Really?”
His dimples pop. “No, not really. She was all over me every chance she got with no complaints whatsoever. Couldn’t get enough of me.”
I smile. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously charming,” he corrects, still grinning.
“Whatever, Dimples,” I grumble. “You might be growing on me. A little.”
He beams. “A little is all it takes, Alexandra. A little today, a little tomorrow, and soon, we’ll be braiding each other’s hair and sharing all our secrets like very best friends.”
I roll my eyes. “Can we please go to dinner? I’m starving.”
“Yes, we can,” he says, leading the way toward the door. “And don’t worry. Everything will work out just fine. Just wait and see.”
It’s the same nonsense he always says, but it doesn’t sound as silly as it did before. This time, I almost believe him.
Trouble. All that can come from that is trouble.
But as we leave our room and start down the stairs, I don’t let go of his hand. I hold on and let myself enjoy a few moments of comfort before we dive back into the shark’s mouth.
Chapter Fourteen
Nickolas
It’s a stunner of a night—stars exploding across the sky like fireworks caught in mid-bloom and a cool breeze making the humidity far more bearable than it was during the day.
As we make our way along the walkways through the flower-scented air, I can’t help feeling optimistic about what’s to come.
Yes, Beatrice’s presence complicates things—no doubt about that—but it may also work to our advantage.
The moment Zan and I step through the elegant, driftwood arch into the open-air restaurant by the beach, Stefano lifts his arm, motioning us over to his table where he’s saved us two seats.
I’ve always enjoyed easy access to the top dog, but now it appears Zan and I have moved to the head of the class.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were dating a princess?” Stefano demands in his gravelly voice as I settle into the seat next to his, and Zan circles to sit beside her cousin. “I would have sent the limo to the airport instead of Tony and Thom and their stupid Jeep.”
I laugh a little too loudly, playing the happy fool.
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were dating?” I counter, nodding toward Beatrice. “I would have brought a first-aid kit and a rabbit’s foot to ward off bad luck.”
“Oh, stop.” Bea’s cheeks flush as she waves at me across the table. “I’m not unlucky anymore, and I haven’t hurt myself in months.”
“Except when you fell down the stairs at the villa,” Stefano says with convincing affection in his tone.
“Not my fault,” Bea says. “I tripped over the cat.”
“And then there was the incident with the Christmas tree,” Stefano adds, chuckling low in his throat. “But we put out the fire before too much damage was done.”
“Don’t tell me you tried candles or something,” Zan says with a shake of her head. “We’ve talked about how you shouldn’t ever be allowed in the same room with fire.”
“No,” Beatrice says. “I used lights. Lights I’d just bought at a very expensive store. But apparently, they had a short in them, and…” She sighs, lifting her hands. “And the rest is history.” Stefano pulls in a breath, but Bea stops him with narrowed eyes, and a warning finger pointed his way. “Don’t say anything about the pancakes! No one else needs to know about the pancakes.”
“Oh, I do.” I grin as I drum my fingertips together, cartoon-villain style. “I need to know all about the pancakes. What did you do? Poison someone?” I turn to Stefano, adding in a mock whisper Beatrice can absolutely hear, “One time, we were renting a beach house in Thailand, and it was Bea’s turn to cook. She gave us all such a vicious case of food poisoning our housekeeper thought we were dying and called a fleet of ambulances.”
“No poisoning, just a small…explosion,” Stefano says, laughing again as Bea mutters for him to hush and takes a drink of her mojito. “But the kitchen needed a deep clean anyway. Things are certainly never boring with my tigrotta.”
“His tiger, huh?” Zan smirks at Bea. “Do we get to hear that story, too? Or is that one private?”
“No.” Bea blushes as she motions to her head. “It’s for the hair. Red-orange like a tiger. Nothing naughty about it.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Stefano rumbles. “Maybe a little naughty. But mostly very, very nice.” He shifts his gaze Zan’s way. “Your cousin is a singular woman. You’re lucky to call her family.”
“And a friend,” Zan agrees. Beatrice beams at Stefano across the table, and my stomach sinks.