Page 111 of Forgotten Deal

“Wait, did you get a new ring? Lemmie see.” She snatches my hand and examines my cat’s-eye wedding ring. “Your hubby went the non-traditional route.”

I grin from ear to ear, holding up my hand and admiring my perfect ring. “We’re a non-traditional couple.”

“Bottle up and sell some of your newlywed bliss to me, please,” Taylor begs.

“I’ll cut you a friends and family discount,” I assure her. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“Oh, we broke up,” Taylor tells me.

“I’m sorry.”

“Eh.” She lifts a shoulder. “Easy come, easy go. Isn’t that what you told me?”

“I was full of shit,” I admit.

Taylor snorts a laugh. “Trust me, I knew.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“That you were falling hard for a ‘restaurateur?’ Yes.”

I chuckle. “Hey, there’s a few single men here?—-”

“Nope. Gonna take a break from both teams,” she interjects. “I need to figure out my life. Preferably over mimosas; I’ll pick you up Sunday at ten.”

“Deal; but meet me here, and we’ll let my driver take us.” Being kidnapped once was more than enough for me; I gave Fabio zero grief when he told me I was getting a bodyguard.

“What is your life?” Taylor marvels.

“Right?” I agree.

Later that evening when the party’s long over, I search for Fabio. His office door is cracked, and I’m about to knock, but I hear him on the phone.

“It’s gonna take all night.” Vince’s voice sounds from the other end of the call.

“So be it. Meet you in twenty.”

“Katerina,” Fabio calls me, having been caught eavesdropping.

I open the door and walk around to his desk, taking a seat in his lap. “You have to go,” I say, not trying to hide my disappointment. “For real this time.”

“Yes.” He growls in frustration.

“For the record, I’m not a fan of edging.” I huff.

Fabio kisses my disgruntled pout. “We’ll have our game soon, I promise.” He stands, carrying me to the kitchen, where he deposits me on the barstool. “I need to go, but let me feed my pet before she gets grumpy.”

“Smart man,” I comment, watching him heat up a plate in the microwave and pour me a glass of wine.

He places the food and drink on the island in front of me before he grabs my chin, pulling me in for a toe-curling kiss. “Love you,” he says against my lips.

“Love you too.” Kissing him one last time before he leaves, I dig into the delicious food while enjoying my glass of wine.

Finishing every last bite—I wasn’t kidding about Fabio plying me with delicious food—I stick my dirty plate in the dishwasher. Just then, a boom of thunder rattles the house, and I jump like a scared cat. Another boom, and the electricity goes out.

It’s nearly pitch-black because of the storm that’s rolled in fast—obscuring the stars and moon—and I have to feel my way around the kitchen until I can find a flashlight.

Placing a hand to my head, I’m starting to feel a little buzzed. I’m not usually a lightweight, but that wine was a wedding gift from Nonna; maybe it’s strong stuff. I grab the bottle, but I can’t read the Italian label.

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