Page 42 of Deception

“Business rules your life, so to speak. And you value loyalty above all else. Rules dominate everything in your life.” Isabella is gaining steam, her tone matter of fact. “And you have passion, anger, rage all bottled up inside, ready to spring forth at a moment's notice.”

I've completely forgotten about the movie, caught up in her words.

She's turned in her seat, studying me.

My arm on the back of the couch brushes her shoulder and she leans into it.

“And you never let anyone in.” It's almost an accusation the way she says it.

“Supposing you’re correct about all of the above…” Her fingers brush against my hand.

“I am.”

Her leg presses up against mine.

“What does that have to do with my favorite movie?” Her body is right up against me, my heart is pounding.

“Just like the rest of your privacy, it’s something you keep hidden. I doubt anyone knows the answer.”

“So, you give up?”

“No. Because you also told me you love musicals. And the first book you picked off the shelf upstairs, the one you were reading in the den…” Her eyes lock with mine, our faces inches apart. “It was by Victor Hugo.”

“Those could all be coincidences.”

“True. There are too many movies to choose from, but I know I’m right. Are you going to admit it, or do I have to say it?”

“Are you going to laugh at me?”

A smile pulls at the edges of her lips. “Absolutely not. Anyone would be far too scared to laugh at you.”

“I wish my brothers felt the same way.”

And at that she laughs, her nose crinkling, making it hard to think of anything else. “Ah, the trials of a man beset on all sides by his little brothers. Truly comparable toLes Misérables.”

“You’re incredible,” I mutter, and suddenly I realize how close we are, our bodies completely pressed together, her curves nestled into me perfectly.

Our lips are an inch apart, her eyes wide and inviting.

When Ava walks in with a refill of popcorn and drinks. “Mi scusi…”

We both sit back immediately, like we just got caught.

Still, Isabella stays pressed against me, taking the bowl of popcorn and biting her lip, trying not to laugh. The rest of the movie, neither of us say a word.

Even as I turn off the system and walk her to her room, we stay close to one another, unable to make a move, but equally unable to resist staying near.

Finally, at her door, I manage to speak.

“Goodnight, Isabella.”

“Goodnight, Alessandro.”

I lay in the dark for hours, replaying the sensation of her against me, the thought of kissing her. It riles me up, turns me on like nothing has in a long time.

Until other, darker memories invade, smothering my arousal.

What would Catalina think?

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