Page 9 of Merciless Monster

“No. I live in Rome.”

“Oh, wow. Rome. A beautiful city, I hear.”

“I take it you haven’t been?”

“No. I hope to come back to Italy one day and visit all the ancient cities.”

“Perhaps I could show you around.”

“That would be wonderful.”

“Can I refill your glass, American Mia?”

“Yes, please. I promise not to baptize your shoes with the next one.”

“In that case,” I smile.

The music stops, and someone announces that it’s time for the bride and groom’s first dance. Gina and Jeff make their way to the dance floor while the rest of the guests look on.

“Would you like to dance?” I ask Mia once the other guests join in.

“Okay, but if you thought the champagne assault was offensive, wait until I step on your foot with these stiletto heels.”

"You're not a fan of dangerously pointy footwear, are you?”

“No. I’m more of a sneakers girl.”

“I promise not to complain.”

“Okay.”

Mia smiles, and my gut clenches instantly. Something about this woman has me completely disarmed. I haven’t had a strong reaction like this to the opposite sex before. Is it because she’s a foreigner? Surely not. Italian women are as gorgeous as they come. I’m used to dating the hottest beauties around. What is it about this one that has me all thumbs?

“You’re not doing too badly,” I say into Mia’s ear as she’s pressing up against me.

“You’re a good dancer, cousin Dante.”

“I do try. Are you staying with Gina’s family?”

“Yes. It’s so beautiful. I have a stunning view of the ocean from my room. Is all of Italy this picture postcard perfect?”

“The countryside is special.”

“Where are you staying this weekend?”

“A villa not far from here. I’d love to show you. Could I interest you in a nightcap later?”

“Sure.”

My heart is thundering in my chest as Mia and I glide across the dance floor. Her hair smells like wildflowers, and her hand is silky soft in mine. I have to suppress the urge to bury my nose in her lustrous black mane and kiss her neck.

I want to take my time with this exotic flower, teasing her petals open one by one until she offers up the sweet nectar that satisfies. I like the hunt. I always have. The primal urge to corner and conquer is strong in the De Luca men.

I run my hand down her back, savoring the curvy contour. I rest my hand in the small of her back as we move as one to the music. It's over too soon.

“Shall we go?” I say, staring into her blue pools.

“Ready when you are.”

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