Page 82 of That's Amore

“I’m happy to paint my nails with you if it makes you happy,” he offered. “But I have to draw the line on Taylor Swift.”

It was sweet. Sexy. Adorable.

I kissed his cheek. “Hot pink nails for Dante Giordano.”

He looked at his hands. “I think they’ll suit me.”

I laughed.

We cooked together. I made the roast chicken, andhe tossed the salad. Dinner was easy and comfortable in a way I hadn’t expected. We talked, laughed, and fell into an old rhythm that felt like slipping on a well-worn sweater. But underneath it, something new simmered—a quiet awareness, a tension I wasn’t sure what to do with.

Now, as Dante stood, slipping his jacket over his shoulders, I felt it shift again.

He was leaving. Going back to his suite at the Palazzo Giordano.

And I didn’t want him to.

The realization lodged in my throat, unexpected and unnerving. I had spent so long convincing myself that distance was safer, that keeping him at arm’s length was the only way to survive him. But tonight, I wasn’t sure.

I swallowed hard and forced a casual tone. “Leaving so soon?”

Dante turned, his hands adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. “I should. It’s late.”

It was. But I still didn’t want him to go.

I stood, smoothing my hands over my dress, unsure what to say. Stay? No, too desperate. Goodnight? Too final. We could have dessert. No, because dessert would turn into more, and…was I ready for that?

Dante watched me, his expression unreadable but knowing.

He took a step closer, lifting a hand to tuck a straycurl behind my ear. I swore I could hear my own pulse, a quiet drumbeat beneath the hush of the flat.

“I get it,” he murmured. “We have a good thing right now, and you don’t want to mess with it.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Yeah.”

He nodded, his thumb grazing my cheek for the briefest second before he dropped his hand. “Then don’t worry about it,bella mia.”

I blinked. “Don’t worry about it?”

“Just get ready for our next date.” His smile was soft, self-assured.

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re awfully confident that there’s going to be a next date.”

He stepped back, grabbing his wallet from the console. “There will be.”

I rolled my eyes, but a laugh slipped out anyway. “Buonanotte, Dante.”

He kissed my lips. “Buonanotte,amore.”

And just like that, he was gone.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door, listening to the faint echo of his departure. The flat still smelled of dinner, wine…and him.

I picked up my phone and called him. He wouldn’t have gotten far.

“Elysa, everything okay?”

“Come back,” I whispered.

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