Page 8 of The No Falling Rule
Maybe this isn’t even a date. Maybe it’s just a polite apology dinner, and I’m reading too much into it.
He stretches his neck side to side, loosening up. “My family owns this resort,” he says finally. “Actually it’s part of a chain—resorts all over the world.”
My eyes widen. I mean, I figured his family owned the resort. But a resort chain? That’s a whole other level.
“My entire family’s here for my niece’s wedding,” he continues. “I thought it’d be a great time to relax and decompress, but my siblings can’t seem to stop pestering me with meetings and goals and projections for the next year.”
I didn’t expect him to open up like that, but I’m relieved that it wasn’t about some other woman.
Jealous, Mia? Careful. It’s dinner, not destiny.
“I’m no heir to a luxury resort chain.” I tease lightly. “But business talk on vacation should be illegal.”
He lifts his glass again, eyes locked on mine.
“What?” I ask, frowning. “Did I say something wrong?”
He shakes his head slowly, inhaling through his teeth.
“I’m just debating how blunt I can be with you, Mia Martínez.”
The rasp of his voice as he pronounces my name, the Spanish rolling off his tongue in a way that makes my legs squirm under the table.
“I thought we were having a great time,” I say, not really understanding why he suddenly feels the need to get so direct.
“And we are,” he replies smoothly. “There’s something about you I haven’t been able to figure out quite yet. But that usually wouldn’t stop me from taking you to bed, showing you a good time, and parting ways in the morning on friendly terms.”
He says it with such certainty, like he thinks I’m a sure thing.
And that pisses me off.
Indignation blooms hot in my chest. Who the fuck does he think he is?
“You might be a handsome millionaire,” I say, and the smirk tugging at his lips only riles me up more.God, why does he have to look so damn good with that smug expression?“And you’re a smooth talker, I’ll give you that.”
I shove my chair back and stand.
The smirk vanishes the instant he realizes I’m serious. Good.
“But don’t you dare think for a second that I’d be flattered—or that I’d keep sitting here—while you talk to me like I’m a piece of meat. I might not be rich, but I have dignity.”
I knew it. This man was too good to be true. Joke's on me for believing I could be the main character in a fairytale.
He opens his mouth, fingers absently playing with that damn gold chain. The motion draws my eyes to his throat.
Focus, Mia.
I cover the slip by forcing a yawn. I refuse to let him see how much he affects me.
“Good evening, Mr. Grosso,” I say, formal and cool. “I appreciate everything you did for me and my sister today—even if you didn’t have to.”
I turn to leave, but his hand wraps around my wrist.
Electricity sparks through me, but I shove it down.
“Mia, wait.” His voice is raspy now, stripped of that earlier bravado and confidence.
I don’t turn. If I look at him, I’ll get sucked right back in by that face.
