We finish our coffee and take a shower together, running soap over each other’s toned bodies, enjoying the confinement of the shower stall, and drying each other off before we get dressed to hit the road again.
I take one last look out the balcony doors and make a note to come back here for a vacation, just the two of us. Riccardo and Flavio can take a hike for a day.
We follow our detail to the SUV and make our journey back to the airport. Now that we’ve regrouped, I try to act more confident— that we’ll be okay. Dante seems sure of himself, and the men around us move with such practiced moves. I know he’s got the best men on our protection detail.
Yet in my gut, I have a feeling it’s only a matter of time until I meet the man who gave me life again. And I’m not looking forward to it.
26
Juliet
Back on the tarmac in Milan, I walk a step behind Dante as we approach the SUV. Not because I am subservient but out of respect, and for safety. Riccardo wants guards around me as, apparently, I’m the fatted calf that Conti wants served on a gold platter.
Is it easy to be abducted? Sure, especially if you know that person. Is it easy to fall in love with a seductive Italian with an unlimited credit card and a flair for fun, food, designer everything, and an insatiable appetite for sex? You bet.
Alone in the back of the vehicle, Dante looks at me seriously. “I have a plan,” he whispers, taking my hand and wrapping both of his around it as he looks me in the eye. “But first, tell me this. If we come through this, will you marry me, Juliet?”
My stomach does a somersault like the Olympic gold medal hinges on my gymnastics performance. My breath catches in my throat and I choke back saliva.
He asked me to marry him, and it’s not just for show or to keep me safe. He wants me.
“Yes” flies out of my mouth. Because I’m addicted to him, his smell, his sometimes rough demeanor, his dreamy eyes that can turn cold on a dime, and his hands that can caress or slap my ass. And I’m definitely addicted to sex with him.
“Yes?” he chuckles.
“Yes,” I reply, and I make a feeble attempt to slap his chest for plying me for more in my answer.
“Then it’s settled.” And I close my eyes as his lips cover mine, gentle at first, then rougher, more demanding and I like it. I love this man that loves to be in control and I love him taking control in the bedroom too. With him I feel safe.
I smile and bat my eyes at him, not on purpose but because we’re bantering, and I like this new version of us. No more do I have to give him shit just to get my way with him.
I’m dressed casually, and so is Dante, in an attempt to blend in. His enemies will be looking for him in his designer suits and not in jeans and t-shirt like we both came out of a pit at a grunge band concert.
We drive towards the city centre and I’m looking forward to knowing my way around this time. I mean, not the streets and all, but the hotel and the penthouse. We had a good time here.
We take the familiar elevator, but unfortunately, we can’t fool around anywhere as Dante’s all business and I should be too. But the man just asked me to marry him for real and I can’t wait to make love to him again, without the crisis hanging over our heads. For all I know, this could go on for weeks or more.
We’re whisked into our penthouse and I’m surprised to that our guards are different. I ask Dante about it, but he says everyone is where they are supposed to be.
I’m putting my life in his hands again and I wonder if that’s a smart move. I don’t like not knowing what is going to happen next, but I know our security team has to be fluid and make adjustments as needed to keep us as safe as they can until the threat is over.
“So how much is the hit on my head?” I try to be flippant, but I’m stressed as I pace the penthouse.
“Enough,” Riccardo says, and I’m surprised. It’s not that he can’t talk to me, he just normally chooses not to. I think killing an intruder made my stock go up with him.
“Hmm.” I go to the kitchen and warm up the espresso machine. I don’t want to distract the men from their planning and from the hotel blueprints spread out over the table. I make espresso for everyone, and as I set the cup in front of my fiancé, I gently brush my fingers over his forearm. I get goosebumps and I notice the hair on his arm stand up as well. I smile to myself, knowing he’s experiencing the connection too. He loves me.
I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m not part of the plan they are cooking up, so I turn on the TV more for background noise than anything. I text my mom and Ava that I’ll see them soon.
Apparently, Ava is still carrying on with her Italian hottie. Of course, she has no idea who mine is, but I told her I found someone.
Knowing how Conti is, I wonder again what happened to my mother. Dante said he found a friend of hers who told him that she must have left Italy . . . or Conti did something to them. I may never know.
“Can I do anything?” I ask Dante and Riccardo. They are deep in their discussion. I assume I’m interrupting them but I want to .
“No, babe, we’re fine. Maybe bring us some scotch and figure out a late lunch?”
“Sure. You want me to call food up? Are we using room service?”