Page 8 of (UN)Bounded

“And how many Bugatti Chirons are in Bologna?” I ask as I take his place in front of the door. Bella steps out of the car, shaking her hair like a model in a commercial, leaving everyone nearby stunned by her looks. My dick perks up, and I take a deep breath to keep my lustful thoughts in check. I should have gotten laid or at least jerked off before picking her up.

Why the fuck am I behaving like a teenager with Bella?

I hear a collective gasp around us. Even though I have no claim on her, I feel ten feet taller knowing that she’s here with me. I place my hand on the small of her back, and a shot of electricity spreads through me. I know she felt it too because goosebumps form all over her back.

Once we get inside, a smiling sommelier shows us to my table and leaves us with the menu. Bella gazes in awe at the stunning restaurant. Verona is a century-old—a pearl in downtown Bologna—and boasts a three-star Michelin chef.

“So they know you here?” Bella asks as she starts perusing the menu.

“I actually own this restaurant,” I say as I take a sip of my tonic water.

“Of course you do,” she mutters, and that piques my curiosity.

“What do you mean?” I ask, wanting to know her thoughts.

Instead of replying immediately, she takes her time. She sips her water and fixes her hair. This would usually annoy me—I’m an impatient man—but I’m actually enjoying the view. Bella is wearing a baby powder blue skirt paired with a matching top. All silk, the outfit is flowy and ethereal, just like her. Her hair cascades in waves midway down her back, and her makeup is minimal but accentuates the intensity of her eyes and her pouty lips. She takes a deep breath, and I can’t help but notice the rise of her breasts—two perfect small mountains waiting to be worshiped.

“Are you ready to order?” the waiter interrupts us, and just like that, the moment is gone.

“Actually, yes. I'd like to start with the octopus, then the lobster for the main course, and the orange and dark chocolate bonet for dessert. As for my drink, I’ll go with whatever Mr. Godoy chooses,” Bella says in perfect Italian. I raise a brow at her, pleasantly surprised by her language skills.

After ordering, the sommelier brings a bottle of my favorite wine. We toast, and I tell her, “Impressive. I didn’t know you were fluent in Italian.”

She chuckles at my compliment. “I mean, with my last name I had no choice.”

I chuckle at her joke but press further. “Isn’t that profiling? I’ve never been expected to speak Galician because of my last name.”

She takes another sip of her wine. “Touché, but to be honest, I minored in Italian, French, and English at college. I figured they’d come in handy once I opened my gallery.”

Oh, so that’s her goal. I thought Luca was full of shit when he mentioned it. I feel like an asshole; I offered her my place for the summer and never spoke to her again. The only conversations I had about her trip were with my best friend.

“That’s impressive, Bella. So your goal is to come to Europe, acquire art, and sell it in Santiago?” I ask, buying some time to find the right words for what I want to tell her next.

“Yes, that’s the big picture. I actually would love to find immigrant artists who want to bring their art back home.”

“Let's pause here. I feel we need to start this conversation over and, this time, do it right,” I say.

“I’m sorry. I don’t follow,” she says, confusion evident on her beautiful face.

I give her a kind smile in hopes it’ll erase her furrowing brow and let her know there’s nothing wrong, per se. “I know I offered to be your host here. I’m truly pleased that you are here, and I know you’ll make the best of your time. But instead of speaking directly with you to learn all these things from you, I kept in contact with your brother as if you were, indeed, a minor. And that’s not right.”

I take my glass in my hand, motion for her to do the same and start speaking again. “I would like to propose a toast to you, your ideas, and to having a summer to remember.”

Bella’s smile is blinding. “This means a lot to me, Gabo. I really appreciate you. Thank you.”

We toast, and she passes her napkin over her mouth—it’s a simple motion, but it brings my attention to her pouty lips.

The things those lips could do.

I clear my throat while trying to remove the thought as Bella starts speaking.

“I love my brother, and I’m very thankful for everything he and Karina have done for me. But sometimes I feel like I'm suffocating under his scrutiny.”

It’s the first time today that Bella has let me see her vulnerable side. Behind her bravado is a woman trying to make her voice heard and make her mark in the world.

I can definitely appreciate that.

“Being the middle brother was always a struggle to follow in Vicente’s footsteps while still being true to myself, you know?”

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