Page 21 of Perfect Match
Is it too much? My head drops to rest on the bundle of papers on my desk.
Fuck, of course it is. What was I thinking?
I’m treating her like the previous women I’ve dated and what they would have expected. But this is Tori, and she’s nothing like any woman I’ve ever been with in the past. She’s not going to care about fancy restaurants and clothes. Tori is gorgeous just the way she is, without adornment, and she just wants to experience fun adventures. I need to reassess my plans and give her exactly that.
On my laptop, I open a new email to my personal assistant, requesting she cancel the dresses and accept the all-expenses-paid dinner for her and her husband. She deserves it for having to put up with my demands that have hit record highs these last couple of weeks. I’ll leave the spa afternoon booking for Tori and her friends, and they can decide if they want to do it. But I hope that, as she’s been living out of a backpack for weeks now, she’ll appreciate the gesture for what it is—a special treat. The nerves settle a little when I hit send. This is all going to go spectacularly well or be a complete disaster.
Another glance at my cell, and it’s only been fifteen minutes since I last looked. A message pops up.
Tori:The train is coming into Florence.
I spring to my feet, knocking some papers from the corner of my desk, but I don’t stop to pick them up. I can do that later. Instead, I shove my laptop into its case, sling it over my shoulder, and stride out of my office.
My assistant’s wide-eyed, happy expression slows my speedy departure. “Really?” she asks.
Laughing, I say, “Really. Have fun. Now I’m out for the rest of the day,” and I think her jaw drops even further.
In the hallway, I stop and duck my head back around the doorway, nearly forgetting a final instruction. “Call me if the lawyer emails me those documents I requested.” Then, not waiting for her response, I run down the stairs and out into the afternoon heat.
It’s a short walk to the Santa Maria Novella train station, although my impatience to see Tori again makes it feel longer. She seems to have tapped into a previously unrealized well of emotions and reactions inside me. It’s disconcerting but also different and new.
At the station, I send a text to my driver to wait for me outside, then scan the arrivals board to find the right platform.
The moment I catch a glimpse of Tori’s smiling face, silky brown ponytail swinging behind her, something tugs in my chest.Lust can be a powerful emotion,I tell myself as I rush to meet her.
My arms wrap around her slim body and easily lift her off the ground as I bury my face in the crook of her neck.
I fill my lungs with wildflowers, and the scent is more intoxicating than I remember. The minty freshness of wild bergamot and the allure of Lobelia, and when it’s all mixed together with Tori, it’s a tempting concoction.
If you’d asked me before now why I was so excited to see her again, I’d have confidently admitted that what I felt for Tori was unfinished business. I’d promised her an adventure, and we still had some way to go to reach our destination. But now, with her in my arms, my lips on hers, I’m reassessing. One—maybe two—days won’t be enough to quench my desire to learn more. To discover what really goes on in that clever, witty mind of hers,and how many more times I can make her brown eyes turn liquid chocolate after she cries out her release.
Chapter ten
Tori
Time stands still. Until a loud “Ahem” reminds us that we’re not alone and we pull apart.
Tina is grinning from ear to ear, one hand on a popped hip. “Do you think we could go? You two are drawing a bit of a crowd.”
Looking over my right shoulder, I spot two elderly ladies smiling back at me, and when I turn left, there’s a group of teenagers not only watching but taking photos—or possibly worse, videos. I’m not easily embarrassed, but in this case, I can feel my cheeks heating. In the last week, I’ve discovered that Gio is seemingly a minor celebrity in Italy and America, judging by the images I found of him attending lavish galas and red carpets, and I don’t want to turn our kiss into some viral video for social media trolls to pull apart.
Gio hustles us away from the impromptu audience, Tina and Amy following close behind. A black van stands waiting directly outside, and Gio greets the driver in rapid Italian beforeushering us into the cool, air-conditioned interior. From the seat beside me, he turns to explain that it’s not far to the hotel.
I wasn’t sure about staying with Gio at his hotel, but when he offered a room for my friends too, any safety concerns I had quickly disappeared. The continuation of our game of twenty questions by text and calls have also given me an insight into the man. But my curiosity didn’t stop there. Thanks to Google, I know that while he’s dated a string of glamorous women—some I recognized others I didn’t—there is a lack of scandals. For someone in the public eye as frequently as Gio has been, that has to be a rarity.
What baffles me is why he’s decided to pay attention to me. I’m nothing like the women in those photos. I let my gaze wander to his strong profile where he sits beside me, and as if he senses my attention, he tilts his head to trap me in a look that’s impossible to escape. Damn, he’s so handsome it takes my breath away.
With a faint smile that hides the dimple I know can crease his cheek, he leans close to my ear. “I’ve booked a three-bed suite for you and your friends, but I was wondering if you’d like to stay in my suite.”
A slight turn of my head brings our mouths inches apart. “How many beds does your suite have?” I whisper, and my tone is deliberately low and husky.
His smile widens and the dimple that I love is on full display. “One,” he growls.
“Hmm, interesting.”
He chokes out a laugh. “You, bella, are a tease.” Then he reduces the inches separating our lips to nothing with a firm, though brief, kiss.
“Look at that,” Tina exclaims from behind us. “You can see the top of the Duomo.”
