Page 51 of A Taste Of Darkness

I didn’t even flinch.

“It’s like you don’t even like me,” she groaned, to which I immediately lifted her face and forced her eyes to meet mine.

“If anything, it means the opposite.” I wasn’t convinced she’d grasped anything I just said, though I knew she would’ve had she not been influenced by alcohol and messed with her brain chemistry.

She sighed heavily. “Woah.” Her blue eyes widened. “Makes more sense, Milopo.”

Milopo?

“Do you want me to call you Luca?”

Before I got to say no, Sterlie jumped off the bed. She reached her hands behind her back, then walked in a circle when she very clearly couldn’t reach her zipper.

“Just…” I laid my hands on her shoulder and turned her around until her back faced me. “Let me do it.”

“Okidoke, Milopo.”

“Don’t call me that.” With somewhat trembling hands, I reached for the zipper of her dress. Her back looked so smooth, that I was seriously edging my self-restraint for once. I could just trace a finger over her skin, and she wouldn’t care, but I knew once I did, I’d want to do it again.

And again.

I’d never want to not touch her ever again.

“Do you want me to call you mio… uh, mio marito instead?” she asked.

My hands froze instantly, her zipper only halfway down.

It wasn’t grammatically correct if she meant to use it for me as a nickname, but as I didn’t think she would, I didn’t bother correcting her.

It took me a second to gather myself and find the strength to speak again. “Do you know what you just said?”

Her head shook. Of course, she didn’t know. “Is it something bad?”

“Where did you pick up on it?” I pulled the rest of her zipper down, noticing that she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath her dress.

She turned around, holding her dress up because if she didn’t, it would’ve been by her feet right now. “I learned Italian for a year. It’s the only thing I remember. What did I say?”

“Ask me again tomorrow and I might tell you.” Reaching into my suit pants pocket, I pulled out one of Sterlie’s favorite lollipops. I’d had one on me every day just in case she ever craved one.

From Flora, I knew Sterlie always ate something sweet before going to bed, even if almost every single dietitian would kill her for it. Apparently, it helped her sleep better. I wasn’t so sure about that, but I wasn’t one to question her.

Her eyes widened dramatically as she noticed the pink wrapper and immediately snatched the lollipop from my hands. “They’re my favorite,” she said.

Now that she was no longer holding her arms over her chest, her dress fell to her feet.

I looked up, lips forming a thin line as a deep breath drew out of my lungs.

“You always know what I need.” Sterlie pushed the wrapper of her lollipop into my hands, not making a single step toward her suitcase, or the closet—wherever she kept her clothes—to get dressed.

“Sterlie?” I said, my voice unwantedly raspy.

“Milopo?”

“Where are your clothes?” I looked back down, but my gaze didn’t go farther than her eyes.

She looked down at herself and then back up; the stem from her lollipop hung out of her mouth. “On the floor.”

“Not the clothes I was talking about, but yes, your dress is on the floor.”

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