Page 20 of Vincenzo's Promise
She looked at me and cleared her throat. “Where are you taking me, tonight?”
“I assumed you may not want Italian.” I smirked when her eyes widened. “Italians eat enough Italian food to last a lifetime.”
“That’s the truth,” she said, laughing. “Anytime I go to my father’s, it’s alwayscaponataorpasta alla norma.”
It was my turn to laugh. “Anytime the De Maio clan gets together, it’s only Italian dishes, wines, and desserts served. Anything else would be sacrilegious.”
“What do you prefer other than Italian?”
“Moroccan.”
“Moroccan was not what I was expecting.” She smiled. “I thought you would say something like Greek.”
“No, not a fan of Greek, but I’ve been to Morocco and love their cuisine,” I said. “So that’s where we’re going tonight. The best Moroccan restaurant in town.”
She nodded. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from her, and she returned my gaze. Something called to me when I looked at her. Although I wasn’t ready to accept it.
“You are so beautiful.” I caressed her face, and her eyelids fluttered.
“You’ve already told me,” she whispered as the car stopped.
“And I will spend the rest of my life telling you.”
She gazed at me, but the door opened, and the driver helped her out of the car before she could respond. When I stepped out, I grabbed her hand, intertwining our fingers. I smiled, and she returned it as we entered the upscale restaurant. This was going to be a night to remember.
