Page 16 of Beautiful & Dirty

I can’t.

He walks me through the back of the restaurant to the dining room and out the front door. He doesn’t kiss me again, and even though I’m disappointed, I remember that that’s a good thing when his wedding ring glints in the quickly waning sunlight. But he does cup the side of my face, running his thumb along my jaw, and I let him. I let him touch me like I’m his because I want to be, and I don’t care who sees us.

We stand outside his restaurant staring at one another for so long that the sky does actually begin to darken.

“I have to go,” I say after a while, not even certain if I’ve missed my train or not.

“I know,” he admits. “You know how to get to the train station?”

I do, and it’s close; just a short five-minute walk away, another reason I’d chosen this restaurant. A stroke of luck that gave me so much more time with Salvatore than I might have had otherwise. I’m grateful for that, and gratitude leaves no room for guilt.

I press the palms of both hands against Salvatore’s chest, just wanting to feel his hard body one more time under my fingertips. “Thank you,” I say, looking up into dark eyes that seem soft with emotion. Or maybe I just want to see emotion there, and so I imagine. And what’s the harm in that? I’ll never see this man again, and there’s no harm in indulging this fantasy.

He grabs my hands and brings them both to his mouth. “Thank you,” he mumbles, kissing each of my knuckles with a firm press. I want to kiss him goodbye, but I can’t, so I smile — or maybe just grimace — before I turn and walk away as quickly as my still-shaking legs will carry me.

I don’t check the time until I turn the corner into the main piazza. The train station is just past the square, and I cut through it as I pull my phone from my back pocket. I suck in a harsh breath when I see that I have nearly a dozen missed calls from Steve and a string of text messages that I don’t check. I don’t even unlock my phone. I simply see that I have twenty minutes before my train is set to leave, and I pick up the pace.

I ignore that my back and thighs are aching, and that I can still feel the pinch of Salvatore’s hands in my hair and around my neck. I don’t know if he’s left marks on me. I hope so, but I still pull my scarf from my bag and wrap it around my neck. When I get to the platform, my train is idling, and I breathe a sigh of relief, not because I particularly want to rush back to Rome, but because I feel exhausted. I’ve never had sex so good that it tires me out.

Another demerit in the mental ledger I’ve spent the day compiling about Steve.

I practically collapse into my seat and wonder how I’ll stay awake for the ride back to Rome, so I don’t miss my stop. I’m considering finding the food car and getting an espresso when someone plops into the seat across from me.

“There you are,” Steve exclaims. “I’ve been looking for you all day!”

My eyes widen in shock and terror, and I subconsciously tighten the scarf around my neck. “Steve. What are you doing here?”

He grins at me, and it’s like I’m seeing him for the first time; because he’s cute, but he’s not nearly cute enough for me to have wasted seven years of my life on him.

“I missed our original train, but I got help at the station. I got here only about twenty minutes after you. I thought you’d wait, but…”

“Why would I wait?” I blurt out.

His brows knit. I don’t know if he’s going to say something, but I don’t let him.

“You missed our train, even though you had plenty of time to make it back. I assumed you weren’t coming. Why would I derail my day for you?”

His face starts to turn red with anger, or embarrassment, or shame. Maybe all three? I don’t know. I don’t care. Because Salvatore was right. I deserve the best. But right now, what matters is that I know — and Steve will know — that I deserve better.

“Anyway, I need a coffee,” I say.

“I’ll come with you,” Steve offers, and I put a hand out to stop him.

“Don’t bother,” I say. “I can get around on my own.”

His lips thin at that obvious barb, and he falls back into his seat. I grab my purse and begin to walk away, not even sure where I’m heading because I’m riding high on the fact that for the first time ever, I told Steve how I feel.

I smile to myself as the conductor yells that the train will soon be departing from the platform. I smile to myself, knowing that once I return to Rome, things will change. I’m not sure exactly what or how, but I’m not the same woman who arrived in Naples this morning. Salvatore changed me, and as if my body wants to let me know just how much, I shiver as my sex clenches, and I feel his semen seep out of me.

It’s dirty. I feel used. But I also feel beautiful and confident.

Salvatore gave me more than I could have imagined.

* * *

The sun is almost set by the time I leave the restaurant, but it’s full dark by the time I pull into the driveway at the country house. Giulio comes out of the front door as soon as I pull up, and he rushes to my car to pull my door open.

“Everything alright?” I ask him, hardly knowing exactly what I’m referring to. My wife? Umberto? Or any of our other dirty endeavors, because I can’t focus on anything except the memory of Shae’s delicate figure getting smaller and smaller as she walked away from me. It took me so long to make it out here because I waited around the restaurant, desperately hoping that she would return. She didn’t.

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