Page 96 of Sinful Escape

I giggled at his attempt at a posh British accent.

He took my hand and stared into my eyes. Oh, Lord! Did that really work on women? The heat flushing my cheeks probably made my freckles pop right out of my heavy makeup.

“You look fucking sexy.” He drew out the word sexy and followed it up with some weird teeth snapping that I assume he thought was sexy. Men were so weird. I didn’t know whether to burst out laughing or crawl beneath the tablecloth.

His gaze swooped down to my bulging cleavage and lingered. “Maybe later, you and I can . . .” He finished the sentence with a wiggle of both his eyebrows and his hips.

What the? I blinked at him like he was a pimply teenager who’d just told me about his wet dream. The tablecloth was looking more promising. Maybe my dash beneath it would go unnoticed.

“Bene ciao, bella. Who do we have here?”

I spun to the voice. “Roman. Hey. Hi.” Relief rushed through me.

Mike released my hand and winked. “I’ll catch up with you later.” With a swish of his cape, he trotted away.

Roman’s eyes drilled into me, and I turned to face him. Despite the intricately decorated mask across his eyes, his cherry popsicle lips revealed his identity. His honey eyes were like a hot tongue as they traveled over my abundantly exposed cleavage.

Holy smokes.

Unlike my reaction to Mike, rather than being embarrassed by his ogling, a shimmer of deliciousness shivered through me.

My raging horny bits are my enemy.

Roman’s tall, dark, and handsome image shot to yet another level with his masquerade mask and slicked-back hair. “You look ravishing.”

“Thank you. You look amazing yourself.” I curled my bottom lip between my teeth.

“Grazie. This is a new look for you. I like it.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek.

A bunch of butterflies took flight in my stomach. Jaysus . . . calm down, Daisy.

“Shall we?” Roman bent his elbow like Oscar had done at the casino, and I glided my hand in. Side by side, we made our way around the room to greet our guests. We admired outfits, made chitchat, and laughed a lot. It was the most fun I’d had in ages.

Except, of course, for my sexy times with Pierre, Luca, and Oscar. Wow. Three men. How did that even happen?

Who cares!

After another ringing bell, Roman helped me usher everyone to take a seat. Unlike at the restaurant in Lyon, the men and women were no longer segregated. Roman and I sat together at one end and our vantage point allowed us to view along the long table. I looked at everyone’s smiling faces. Why had I stopped coming to this night?

The answer was easy. I’d been too busy feeling sorry for myself.

It was time to make up for lost ground. I reached for the champagne in the polished silver ice bucket and handed it to Roman. “Would you care to do the honors?”

Clutching the bottle, he flashed a sexy smile. “Sicuramente, signora.” He rarely spoke in his native tongue, and it was always a bit of a surprise when he did speak Italian. Maybe I should get him to teach me a phrase or two. After all, learning a language was one of the things I’d planned to do before I left Europe.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Roman unraveled the silver foil and wriggled the cork free. With a loud pop, the cork shot halfway down the table, narrowly missing all the glasses and Tiffany’s head. “Whoops, sorry.” His eyes bulged as he waved an apology.

“Bloody hell.” I giggled. “Lucky you didn’t take out the candelabra.”

“I know.” We laughed together as he filled both our champagne flutes to the top.

Dinner was served like clockwork and although it wasn’t one of the most amazing meals on the tour, the evening was exceptional in many other ways. Roman and I chatted non-stop about everything from our surroundings to his sisters to our favorite movies. The Holiday for him. That was a surprise. But apparently, he loved the idea of swapping homes with someone, and he was also a huge fan of Cameron Diaz. My choice was anything from the Die Hard series. There was nothing like a good action movie to escape from the real world, especially one that didn’t have any pathetic romance in it.

Roman was so easy to talk to. It was like we’d known each other for years, not weeks.

The night rolled on. Our guests got louder. The drinks flowed. And I consumed more champagne in three hours than I should have.

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