Page 49 of The Wrong Move

Byron’s eyes narrow at my comparison rather than appreciating the compliment. I realize my mistake. I could have compared him to any massive mountain—Mount Everest or K2—but my mind went straight to Italy, and Byron noticed.

“Right.” Mason leans forward. “The high school final when you were a junior was a game I’ll never forget. I bet that game was a turning point for your basketball future. All thoughts of robotic engineering were put on hold.”

I gape at Byron. “You wanted to study robotics?” I shake my head. “Of course. You were the math whiz.” Byron and I were not in many classes together as he focused on math, physics, and all the numbers while I was in the creative units.

“I thought robotics was cool.” He pops his shoulders, and it confuses me as to why he’s being dismissive. “But while I love math and physics, the adrenaline rush on the court was more addictive and a bigger challenge.”

Mason snorts. “Only you’d say that. You’re a freak of nature, physically and intellectually. You could do either with equal perfection.”

Byron stares at his friend. He looks down and shifts in his seat before glancing back at Mason. “Perfection. It’s a hard word to live up to.”

I need to lighten the mood again. With a cheeky smirk, I say, “There has to be something you’re bad at.”

The drop in his shoulders is subtle, but I see it before the slow blink. “There’s a long list. The latest addition is holding a baby. Do you know how awkward that is?” He raises his large hands slightly in the air. “Two is shopping for said baby. I haven’t a clue what to get a little girl that has everything before she’s twenty-four-hours old.”

I rub his thigh. “I could paint something for her bedroom.”

A smile grows on Byron’s face. “Gigi, you’re the real genius. It’s perfect.”

I laugh. “Well, if you want to first go baby shopping, I can help you. It will take me a couple of days to finish the art.”

Byron kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Thanks for saving me a world of embarrassment at the family dinner next weekend.”

I appreciate his excitement. It’s the gentle kiss on my cheek leaving a tingle that I shouldn’t read into. He picks up my hand from under the table and squeezes it.Thank you, he mouths.

Two words and warmth expands within—a sign it’s safe to lower my guard because this feels right. Physically, I allowed Byron to penetrate my walls. His touch heals me in ways no one else can. And I understand sex can be without strings. The stolen glances where I catch snippets of how he feels warns me there is hope. Maybe it’s appreciation of being part of a friendship. We were friends, after all.

“You’re welcome,” I whisper. “I’m sure you’ll return the favor one day.”

My cell chimes with a sound I set specifically for Isabella. “Excuse me. I should take this.” I push up from the table and head outside. “Hello.” The background music makes it hard to hear. It must be after three in the morning there.

“Giana,” she says, dragging out my name. “Austin Cisterna is here, and he requests you come to Italy next weekend.” Her slight slurring is not missed.

Isabella has had far too many glasses of bubbles. “The filmmaker?”

“Sì,stellina.”

“Why would he request my presence?”

“Because our designs are being worn on his biggest star.”

Oh my God.

“Are you messing with me?”

“Why would I do that? I love you, mystellina. I’ll call you tomorrow, but I couldn’t wait to share the news. Clarissa Carrington will be wearing Leto Designs in three scenes!”

“Congratulations!” I shout. My lips hurt from a tight smile. “That’s amazing.”

“It is. Ciao, Gigi.”

My cell turns blank. I spin around and look up to the twilight sky, hoping to see stars, but it’s too early and harder to see in the middle of the city. I’m looking for a sign. Do I rush over and be with Isabella or allow her to make the decision since it is her designs? I love that she wants me involved. I also know she wants me to return to Italy, and while the excitement is still bubbling in my chest, I need to assess everything before I make a rash decision. When the enthusiasm settles, I know my anxiety will rise. The fear of leaving Dad will overwhelm my rational thinking. I’ll be forced to choose between making a life in LA or returning to Italy, where my career can thrive and also feels like home.

Dante.I won’t be able to escape him. I remember how convincing he is and also how much he hurt me. But Isabella offers me a future no one else can.

I stare through the glass to the man who is slowly stealing my attention away from Italy and more toward staying in LA.

I spin around to the sound of car horns and sirens. The sound messes with my thoughts, and I suck in a deep breath. No decision will be made tonight.

---