Page 20 of Never Fake Date the Financier
“I’ll have you. With me,” he adds a few beats later.
Oh.God.
Tingles. Everywhere. And those nerve endings become engulfed in flames as I exhale, long and slow. The air between us crackles as the noise from the lobby fades, like someone turning down a dial on a radio. It’s just us. And for a brief moment, I think Adrian’s going to touch me. Kiss me? No. That’sinsane.And even more insane that I wouldn’t fight it.
His hand moves toward my face, but then stops as someone turns the dial back up, time speeds back up, and a woman’s voice rips me from the moment.
“Mr. Thorne!”
I turn, still dazed, as I follow Adrian’s gaze. A woman dressed in a tailored navy suit strides toward us, her silver-streaked hair pulled back in a sleek chignon. “I was hoping to catch you before check-in.”
Adrian seamlessly shifts into business mode. Even his voice is different. But as he places a hand on the small of my back, I’m finding it hard to concentrate. “Ms. Laurent,” he begins, as the woman stops, smiling at him before turning her attention to me. “This is?—”
“Ms. Gabriella Barbera,” she finishes, collecting my hands in hers. “I’ve heard so much about you from Mrs. Thorne.”
I manage what I hope is a convincing smile, but with Adrian’s hand on me, everything feels discombobulated. “Only good things, I hope.”
Although I wish I could’ve asked for examples, just in case I need to jot down some notes. Our study session on the plane was in-depth, but remembering it all will be the real challenge, especially if Adrian keeps his hands on me.
Whew. It’s getting toasty in here. And is hestrokingmy back? I want to shoot him a look, but now is not the time.
“Of course,” Ms. Laurent assures me. “I understand you love Mediterranean cuisine?” She lets the sentence hang as my mind blanks again. “Your family is from Italy, correct?”
Uh. Buhhhhh. Uhh. “Righty-oh!” My GOD, what am I doing? I almost gave her a nudge and a wink. But more than that, what else is Adrian not telling me? He never mentioned my food preferences apart from me being a vegetarian. And my family history? I don’t even know myrealfamily’s heritage. Details, Mr. Thorne. I’dloveto have more of them.
Ms. Laurent clears her throat, realizing that this conversation thread is going nowhere because I’m realizing just how ill-equipped I am to play my new role. Improvisation was never a strength.
“Well,” Ms. Laurent begins, clasping her hands in front of her. “The reason I stopped you is that I need to confirm the seating arrangements for tonight. Will you be attending the rehearsal dinner? The yacht departs at seven.”
Yacht? Wait. No. Nonono. That can’t happen. The last time I was on a boat… I swallow the bile rising in my throat. This is not good. And I try to communicate that with Adrian through frantic eye contact and telepathy, but unfortunately, none of it translates.
“Of course. We’ll be there,” Adrian says, sliding his palm up my back.
And for a brief moment, my nausea subsides. Maybe his touch isn’t so bad after all.
“Gabriella grew up on boats, sailing around the Gulf of Naples in her father’s fishing boat.”
On second thought. That touch feels like sandpaper right about now. I grew up on a boat? What the hell is he talking about? It’s like he’s actively trying to sabotage this weekend.
“That’s… right. I love boats. How they… float. And move in the water. Water. I love the water. Nothing better than waves. Fish. Sun. Dolphins. Air.” And now I’m stringing together nouns like a toddler listing their favorite new words they learned.
I clear my throat as Ms. Laurent stares at me like I’m some circus sideshow curiosity. “But I have to correct my dear,dearboyfriend.” I wrap my arm around Adrian, making sure I get a good, hard grip on his waist. When he groans, I know it’s just right. “He’s mixing up a few details. My uncle was the fisherman. I’d join him sometimes when we visited family in Italy. But I was born in the States,” I add quickly, because I’m not about to play tour guide to Adrian’s family or relatives in a country I’veliterallynever been to until now.
Ms. Laurent lets out a short sigh. “That’s wonderful. I hope to pick your brain later about some of the local sights. It’s my first time.”
I smile, trying my best not to crack a molar, waiting for this interaction to end. “Of course. I’d love to.”
After a few more minutes of chatting, Ms. Laurent leaves us in the lobby. I wait until she’s out of earshot before turning to Adrian.
“A cruise? Italian heritage? I love boats? What are you thinking?”
Adrian peers down at me, my cheeks inflamed and my stomach churning as I consider what a night on a boat will mean for me.
His jaw clenches and then relaxes. “I might’ve called an audible.”
“I don’t know what that means, but don’t do that again unless you want this weekend to blow up in our faces. We have to be on the same page, which means I need to have all the information. I…”
I turn around, running my hands through my hair as I try to relax. It’s fine. It will be fine. It’s a slight hiccup.
