Page 75 of The Wrong Move

I point to the opposite corner. “That’s my favorite restaurant. The best pizza and pasta in the world. Do you want to head down and try it?” I ask, failing to contain my excitement upon hearing the vibrant chatter below.

He leans in and kisses my lips. “I’d rather stay here with you.”

“Byron, we have the rest of the night. I want you to experience the culturewith mewhile you’re here. We’re both dressed to party. Besides, you said you didn’t need sleep.”

He grumbles something before kissing me again. “Let’s not eat our body weight in pizza, or we’ll be in a food coma.”

I grin at him. “I wouldn’t dare do that to you.”

Finding my purse and flat shoes under the light of his cell, I take Byron’s hand and lead him down the dark stairs to my front door. “There’s a tiny laundry, bathroom, and a bedroom where I keep my paint supplies,” I say, pointing behind us. I open the huge wooden door with its iron frame. It creaks as it closes behind us with a clunk.

“Did you grab a key?”

“Patrizia has this door key. I have the balcony key.”

His brow lifts slightly before focusing on the restaurant across the cobbled street. I take his hand and walk into the small restaurant.

“Giana,” Roberto sings.“Mi sei mancata.”

I tell him I have also missed him. Roberto is a jovial, round-bellied man with graying brows and receding hair. I order a margherita pizza, a dish of marinara spaghetti, and Roberto’s famous monkfish dish. He tells me to sit at my favorite table—outside so I can people-watch. But tonight, I’ll only have eyes for one person.

Byron shakeshis head as he finishes a shot of limoncello.

I giggle at his reaction. “It’s delicious, right?”

“It’s something else.” He wipes his mouth as he eyes the last piece of pizza. “It’s all yours. I couldn’t eat another piece, even though I want to.”

“I craved it every day, living with all the aromas that filtered into my room. While I was often alone, Roberto and others made me feel like part of their family.”

Byron’s brow pinches as I sense his thoughts whirling. “Dante wasn’t here with you?”

“Sometimes. While I spent many weekends at one of his many homes or on the yacht, I needed my time here to unwind and clear my head. It’s different here, more me than the bustling cities. I still love Rome and the vibrant street life at night, but I feel more at home here in my little villa. I have some fun art on the walls and decorated it in a way I like, not all designer pieces and expensive art. Dante is a collector of valuable things.”

“My guess is he wants to add you to his collection.”

“I cannot be owned, Byron. If I feel trapped, I’ll panic.” He smiles at me and lowers his gaze as though he is collecting his thoughts. While I want to be his and for him to be mine, it’s more about trust, not ownership, and not like the way Dante wanted to control me. “For a long time, I allowed him to tell me what to do. It’s why I needed to spend time here and just breathe. Be myself.”

His lips press into a thin line, and I sense I hit a nerve. “Why did you allow him that control over you?”

I let out a long sigh. “I wanted to fit in.” I reach over the table and take his hand. “Remember in high school how I never fit in with theitgirls? I hung out with Paige, Mason, you, and a few others. I would often spend lunch alone to finish some art pieces as Paige could float from one group to another. She wasn’t popular and wasn’t a geek, but she could mingle with everyone. I felt lucky to be friends with you both. But when you trained most lunchtimes, I would be alone in the art room. I heard whispers, so I avoided people.”

I thought his brow was pinched before, but now, it’s like a porch over his eyes.

“You were the hottest girl at school,” he rasps. “I never thought of you being lonely. Merely focused, like me.”

I give him a warm smile. “I was glad I had you as a friend… most times.”

“Friends…” He fiddles with his designer wristwatch. “I always wanted you, Gigi. But I needed to keep my eye on the ball. In a way, I always thought we would end up together somehow, and… here we are.”

“Really? I’d hoped, but when I was here, I stopped believing we had a future.”

He tilts his head back. “I was an idiot,” he whispers.

“Byron…” I wait for him to look at me. “I don’t regret a thing. We made mistakes, learned, grew, and became better people forit. It was a part of finding ourselves. While I loved being part of Dante’s fancy world, I don’t need to be lavished and worshiped with gifts and expensive playthings. It was fun while it lasted, but it wasn’t me. It was too much, a distraction to finding myself, so I had to keep taking time out for me. And those times when I needed to be by myself, Dante thought it was okay to be in bed with someone else. The same old story… it wasn’t love with them, just sex. Helovedme.”

“Why am I torn between wanting to hurt him and thanking him?” He squeezes my hand, his eyes searching my face for understanding. “I hate that he hurt you, Gi.”

I smile at my beautiful, handsome man. “I allowed him to hurt me. I knew he was a playboy, even though he loved me. Deep down, I knew we had an expiration date.” I glance at the ladies sitting at a nearby table, admiring my man. “I wonder how you would cope with all the attention here?”

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