Roman Esposito
Four years later
Sitting in a wicker chair, I watch my three-year-old son race across the rolling green lawn.
Sunshine glints off his dark, unruly curls. He’s yet to have his first haircut because Sofia can’t convince herself to trim his gorgeous baby locks. His chubby legs move at full throttle. He giggles while chasing the newest addition to our family around the yard, a golden retriever named Tula.
Sofia wanted another female in the house to even out the numbers. Since I can’t deny her even the smallest request, I give that woman whatever she wants on a silver platter.
I spent the first three years of our relationship acting like a complete prick, doing whatever I could to drive her away and make her hate me.
I get down on my knees every single day and thank God that it didn’t work.
My gaze shifts to my beautiful wife sitting next to me, laughing at the little boy and dog as they play. Filled with a deep contentment I never dreamed possible, I lay my hand on her burgeoning belly. She’s six months pregnant with our second child, and my hunch is that this one will be a girl because Sofia seems to be carrying this baby differently.
Well, that’s what my mother-in-law tells me. And Teresa is usually scary-right about everything.
The simple act of looking at Sofia makes my heart swell with love for her, our son, and our unborn baby. This woman rocked my entire world. I knew she would change everything the second I saw her, and I wasn’t wrong. There was no turning back once I lowered my guard and stopped resisting my attraction for her.
I never imagined Sofia would stick by me after how I fucked up royally by betraying not only her but her family. But that’s exactly what she did. She stood up to them and declared her love for me in the most humbling moment of my life.
In hindsight, I understand that we were destined for one another.
This woman is my fucking everything.
And I’ll move heaven and earth to make her happy.
Shortly after the meeting in Enzo’s office where I almost got beaten to death, I resigned from the Chicago PD and started working for the Valentinis. Enzo was still furious and didn’t speak to me for a good six months. The closest we came to conversing was when he muttered something unintelligible in Italian before stalking out of the room. I often thought he was waiting for me to fuck up again so he could wipe me off the face of the planet.
The birth of his grandson, Alessandro, seemed to soften his feelings for me. Sort of. Teresa’s, too. It goes without saying that Enzo can be intimidating. He blusters and pounds his fist on his desk. He glowers and threatens to string you up and leave you for dead. Which, trust me, wouldn’t be a pleasant way to die.
But Teresa…
That woman is the real deal.
She has the heart of a stone-cold killer. Sure, she’s all sweet and loving… until you mess with her family. Then you see a totally different side of her. One that can make a grown man whimper like a baby. She’ll reach inside your chest, rip out your heart with her bare hand, and toss your carcass out the back door to feed the dogs before going back to the kitchen to finish off her antipasto platter as if nothing ever happened.
Does my mother-in-law scare the shit out of me?
You bet your damn ass she does. I slept with one eye open for a while, waiting for her to come for me in the dead of night.
Whenever I mention this to Sofia, she rolls her almond-shaped eyes and laughs because she thinks I’m exaggerating. Sofia has a lot of her mother in her. She’ll do whatever it takes to protect the ones she loves.
And I’ve made it my mission in life to do whatever it takes to protect her and our children. If that means working for her father and the family business for the rest of my days, so be it.
I’ll do it happily.
I can’t picture my life any other way. I can’t imagine not holding this woman in my arms every single night and raising our kids together.
Sure, I’d always thought being a cop was the be-all and end-all, but I was wrong. This woman, the one who stood by me through thick and thin, she’s all that matters. I told her I would never let her go and I meant every damn word.
This woman is mine.
And I’ve claimed what’s mine.
~The End~
I hope you enjoyed Sofia and Roman’s story as much as I loved writing it! If you did, please consider leaving a review at the retailer where you purchased this ebook- thank you!
What’s next?
I’ve already started working on a novel that is similar in style to King of Campus and I’m also dabbling with the idea of giving Francesca her own story.
Available now!
Grace and Matteo’s story
Chapter One
“You know, it’s not too late to change your mind.” Shoving his hands into the pockets of his khakis, Dominic watches me from across the wide expanse of the bright, sunlight-filled room.
Sucking in a deep breath, the edges of my lips slowly curl into a small smile as I gaze at the huge, floor-to-ceiling panes of glass lining the entire eastern wall of the living room. From this vantage point on the thirtieth floor, I can easily survey the deep blue vastness of Lake Michigan along with the skyscrapers that make up the Chicago skyline.
It’s a stunning view.
Just as picturesque as I remember it.
Excitement thrums through my veins. It feels good to be back. Even though I’ve been gone for a decade, Chicago has always felt like home.
“I won’t be changing my mind,” I murmur, my eyes held captive by the sparkling water in the distance. “It’s a gorgeous view, isn’t it?”
He snorts, but I hear the affection he feels for me riddled throughout his deep voice. “It’s a view that only two point nine million can buy.”
“It’s my view now.”
I’m not sure it was the right decision to make, but I hope so. I’ve spent the last two years just trying to hold it together. Struggling to make it through life on a day-to-day basis. Feeling as if I were drowning in a bottomless well of grief and sadness. There were days when I felt like I would never find my way out of the labyrinth of despair that consumed me.
I hate to admit it, because it makes me sound weak and ungrateful for the life I have, but there have been too many nights when I’ve laid awake, sobbing, wondering why I was still here. Wondering why I hadn’t died in the accident that stole my parents from me.
It would have been so much easier that way.
Instead, I’m here.
With no family to speak of.
Sensing the direction of my thoughts, my godfather closes the distance, coming to stand beside me at the window. For just a moment, we both stare silently at the lake. It’s this particular view that sold me on the place. I wanted to be right smack in the middle of the hustle and bustle of downtown. Since I’ll be starting a graduate program in Art History at Northwestern, I wanted to be close to the university. I’m not more than a stone’s throw away from all the museums near the lakefront and all the great shopping on the Magnificent Mile.
What I need is to be in the thick of all the action. To be in a place where I can walk outside at two in the morning and find people. I need the pulse of the city to help bring me to life again. To revitalize me. It feels as though I’ve been in a deep hibernation since my parents died. I’ve spent the last two years living in a self-imposed isolation, unable to break free. But I can’t do that anymore.
It’s time to awaken.
And Chicago is the perfect place for that to happen.
The city streets all but hum with unrestrained energy.
I glance at Dominic, thankful for his constant guiding presence in my life. Without any words spoken between us, he seems to understand just how significant this moment feels. It’s as if I’m on the cusp of a brand-new life. Sliding his arm around my waist, he tugs me close.
Several factors went into my decision to pick up and move, but Dominic topped the list. He’s all I have left. Technically, he isn’t my family. Not by blood, anyway. He’s my godfather. Dominic is the one person I can call at any time of the day or night, and he’ll sit silently on the other end of the line, knowing exactly how I feel. In a way, he feels it too. The loss of my parents has blown a hole in his life as well.
“Even though you have this place, you’re welcome to stay with me. Anytime, Gracie. My house will always be your home.”
His words have my lips tipping up at the corners. He has no idea what that means to me. Just how appreciative I am for them. For the sentiment behind them. No matter what happens, I will always have Dominic. He’s my safety net. My rock. My de facto family.
As his deep blue eyes crinkle, his mouth curves into a smile.
He knows exactly how difficult this is for me.
Starting over.
Leaving the past behind.
Trying to carve out a new life for myself.
One my parents are no longer a part of.
That thought pierces my heart, making it difficult to breathe.
“I know.” With thoughts of my parents and this move churning in my mind, I slowly lower my head until I’m able to rest it against the side of his arm. I can’t believe I’m a few blocks from Lakeshore Drive. The views are as sweeping as they are breathtaking. I’m lucky to have found this place. “Thank you.”
“Your graduate program doesn’t start for another three weeks. You could always stay at the house until then. There’s certainly no rush for you to be on your own. That way you can take your time and ease into your new life. Is there any reason you should be thrown into the deep end of the pool just yet?”
He’s right. I could crash at his place for the next couple of weeks.
But I don’t think I want to. I need to be on my own.
Well… I need to give it a try.
The last two years have been both emotionally, as well as mentally, crippling. I was two months into my junior year when my parents died. From what the police could tell, my father had been driving too fast for the weather conditions. They’d been hit with a terrible storm. Torrential downpours. I have no idea why they didn’t just pull over and outwait the weather. Ultimately, that decision cost them their lives.
And made me an orphan in the process.
No parents.
No siblings.
No grandparents, aunts, or uncles.
My parents had been only children and their parents were now deceased, leaving me with no one.
Lost in a debilitating haze of heartache, I’d wanted to drop out of college. Dominic is the one who convinced me to stick it out and finish up the academic year. It hadn’t been easy. I’d almost flunked out that fall semester. Depression. Grief. Sadness. I had been adrift in a sea of despondency that had threatened to swallow me whole.
Because Dominic had been close to my parents, he’d long ago been set up as my guardian if the worst ever occurred. He spoke with the school, asking for leniency when I’d been on the verge of getting kicked out. It took nine months before I started fighting my way back again. Retaking a few classes, I focused on graduating from the university and getting the hell out of there.
I applied to a few graduate programs and was lucky to get accepted at Northwestern. My essay and interview were enough to sway them into giving me a chance to prove myself. Before the accident, I had been a straight A student. Once I was finally able to emerge from my cocoon of grief, I was able to get back on track again.
“I need this,” I murmur quietly. “I think it’s going to be good for me.” I don’t know whether I’m trying to reassure him or myself.
But the words ring true.
Right now, in this very moment, I need them to be true.
I need to believe that life will continue to improve from here on out.
Gently he presses his lips against my temple. “It will be, Gracie. I have no doubt about that.” He pauses for a moment. “I just can’t help but wish you were staying at the house. At least for a little while. I don’t want you getting overwhelmed. Moving, starting school, volunteering…”
I understand his concern. In a way, I have the same fears. But it seems necessary. As if I need to shock my system into living again.
When I don’t immediately respond, he continues, “The last two years have been…” His softly spoken words trail off into nothingness.
We both know what it’s been like. The sheer depth of my despair has, at times, frightened him.
Sucking in a breath, I force it back out into the world. “Difficult.”
To say the least.
His arm tightens around me. “I’m happy to have you back again.”
Both of my parents were born in Seattle, which is why we ended up moving back there when I was in seventh grade. At the time, my mom’s parents had still been alive, and she’d wanted to be closer to them. To help them out.
My parents met Dominic while they were attending law school in Chicago. They had liked the city so much, they’d stuck around after graduating. Both of them took jobs with the district attorney’s office. So, I was born in Chicago. Until moving to Seattle, this had been the only home I’d ever known. I loved Chicago. Loved everything about the city. The ties that I had here, the memories, and the happy childhood spent wandering around museums and zoos played a huge part in my decision to return.
No matter how many years have crept by, Chicago has always been where my heart was. It just felt like home. More so than Seattle ever had.
A feeling of rightness settles over me like a comforting blanket. “I’m glad to be here.”
Even after my family moved to Seattle, we still spent a lot of time with Dominic. He visited for holidays. We vacationed together. He’s been an ever-constant presence in my life. After my parents died, I spent my school breaks with him. There was always a plane ticket waiting for me. I never had to ask or broach the subject. I never felt unwanted or unloved.
Spending time alone in the Seattle house without my parents… I just couldn’t do it. There were too many memories. A tidal wave of grief just waiting to suck me under when I least expected it always lingered in the background.
Our house in Seattle was massive. A five-bedroom rambling old Victorian with soaring ceilings and intricate woodwork that my parents spent four painstaking years refinishing in their spare time. As someone who appreciated architecture, I loved all the fancy molding and trim, gorgeous stained-glass windows, and glossy hardwood floors.
I haven’t been back in almost a year and a half. I can’t bear to walk through the front door. Mom and Dad’s stamps are everywhere. There’s no where I can go without a hundred different memories flooding into my mind.
And my heart.
As of right now, the house is closed up. Dominic pays a company to handle the upkeep and maintenance until we figure out what to do with it. There’s no way I can rent it out to strangers. Nor can I bring myself to sell it.
How can I possibly sell all the memories that lay dormant within?
I suppose at some point I’ll have to decide what to do, but for now it can wait. There’s no hurry. My parents inherited a great deal of money from my mother’s family. It’s all sitting in a trust that Dominic manages for me.
Rising up onto the worn toes of my Converse sneakers, I kiss the side of his face. “Thanks for everything.”
With his arm still wrapped around my waist, his eyes soften as he continues gazing down at me. “You don’t have to thank me. We’re family.” He cracks just a hint of a smile as he says, “It’s just you and me, kid. Against the world.”
I can’t help but return his easy affection. It may be just the two of us, but I consider myself fortunate to have him in my life.
Unlike my parents, who worked as prosecutors in the district attorney’s office, Dominic decided to go the route of high-priced defense attorney. He didn’t come from money the way my parents did. He would always wink, jokingly saying that he couldn’t afford to be a bleeding-heart liberal like my parents. After practicing law for about five years, he opened his own office and bought a beautiful, old stately house on the Northshore. It’s situated right on Lake Michigan.
Never married, there have been a slew of girlfriends over the years. There have even been a few close calls where we thought he might pop the question, but it never happened.
I remember my dad laughing and my mother shaking her blond head as she rolled her twinkling blue eyes at his quintessential bachelorhood. He has always seemed perfectly content to date one beautiful woman after another. Once I’d overheard my father mutter something about Dominic having a whole stable full of pussy.
I hadn’t understood what that meant at the time and I hadn’t wanted to figure it out either. All I cared about was that Dominic was great fun to be around. Always smiling and laughing, he was the life of every party. People naturally gravitated to his charismatic personality. Women especially. In fact, they still do.
When I’d been in high school, I’d secretly crushed on him.
Who wouldn’t?
Dominic was tall and handsome. He had broad shoulders, a tapered waist, elegant hands, and thick blond hair. His bright blue eyes always seemed to be filled with mischief. He had perpetually tanned skin from taking his sailboat out on the weekends. Other than practicing law, sailing was his other great passion. He didn’t have a thin build, but he wasn’t overly muscular either. He spent the work week outfitted in expensive, handmade suits and the weekends in khakis, polos, and Sperry topsiders.
He reminded me of a walking Ralph Lauren ad, content to live the good life.
I pegged him to be somewhere around forty-five. He was one of those men who grew more attractive, more distinguished, with age. The little laugh lines bracketing his eyes made him more striking. Last year, when the two of us had celebrated his birthday, I’d teased him mercilessly because he wouldn’t tell me how old he was. As a gag gift, I gave him a cane, denture cream, and a subscription to AARP magazine.
He had not been amused.
The recollection still makes me smile.
It’s one of the few happy memories I have to hold onto in a churning sea of sadness and grief. So, I’ve held tightly onto those fleeting moments with both hands. They have been far too rare and much too precious to ever take for granted.
“In no time at all, this place will feel like home.”
Giving him a smile, I say, “It already does.” Leaning my body into his, he tightens his arm around my waist. “You’re here.”
Chapter Two
Looking quite handsome, George, the doorman, is decked out in full regalia. From the smart looking cap on his balding head to the shiny black shoes adorning his feet and the red wool coat and black pants in between, he fits right in with the elegance and formality Lexington Place, the building I have chosen to call home, prides itself on.
What I really like about it though, is how seriously the owners take security. It’s like Fort Knox around here. After setting up an appointment for a tour, I was immediately background checked. As I was shown around, the manager was quick to point out all the hidden cameras and panic buttons discretely placed throughout the building and inside the condos. The employees that were staffed twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. And the fingerprint entry technology that was used for each door. I’ve never been overly concerned about personal safety, but the extra measures made me feel better since I’ll be living on my own.
This morning I stopped in the lobby and chatted with George for a few minutes. Rather helpfully, he directed me to the nearest grocery store, which is a Whole Foods, about four blocks away.
That works out perfectly since I don’t have a car. It seems like more of a hindrance when living in a city that is so walkable. Traffic is usually heavy, and parking can be a nightmare. There are always plenty of available taxicabs. Plus, the city has a subway and bus system. Since Dominic keeps a driver on staff, all I have to do is text him, and he’ll send Henry to pick me up.
With my purse in hand and comfortable sandals adorning my feet, I take my time meandering down the sidewalk, simply enjoying the sights and sounds of the city. There’s such a vibrant energy here. It’s infectious. I look in shop windows, popping in one or two places to check out a few wares that catch my eye.
Once I’m at the grocery store, I grab a small cart and pick out what I’ll need for the next few days. I try to be conscious that the walk back to my building is four blocks, I don’t want to buy too much.
When I moved in a few days ago, Dominic took me shopping, and we filled up the fridge and cupboards. Unfortunately, a couple of things were forgotten. I buy just enough to fill two small bags, which feels manageable to carry, before retracing my steps again.
As I stroll back to Lexington Place, I can’t deny that there is something thrilling about being smack-dab in the middle of downtown. I don’t know if it’s the noise. Maybe it’s the people, most of whom seem to be rushing to get from one place to another. You can easily spot the ones who live here- they seem unimpressed by their surroundings, as if they’ve grown used to the chaos. They’ve got earbuds shoved in or are multitasking on their phones.
The tourists, on the other hand, are the ones with awe painted across their lit-up faces as they stare unabashedly around them, trying to take everything in all at once. The high-end shops. The exclusive hotels. The restaurants. They gaze up at the skyscrapers with bright eyes filled with wonder.
Excitement bursts within me like an overfilled bubble.
I love it.
I love everything about being downtown.
The sensory overload. The sights and sounds. The smells of different restaurants all blending together. The contrasting colors of the buildings and shops. The merchandise displayed enticingly in windows. Taxis and buses barreling down the street.
I feel more alive at this moment than I have since my parents passed away. In no time at all, I reach the building. I’m a little disappointed to have returned so soon. I could wander around the city for hours, just soaking everything up like a greedy sponge.
Right away, George grabs the door for me. “Found the store without any problems?”
“None at all. Your directions were excellent. Thank you.”
“Just remember, you can always call us if you’re unable to walk back with your groceries, Ms. Castile. It’s one of the perks of living at Lexington place.”
“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” I can’t contain the bright smile that blooms across my face. “It’s just so beautiful out. Perfect weather for exploring the neighborhood.”
Almost instantly an answering smile lights up his weathered face, and I know instantly that he’s a cheerful, friendly man. I have a feeling that George and I will become fast friends. Other than Dominic, I don’t know anyone else in the city.
“That it is, Ms. Castile.”
Jostling around one of the bags, I push the call button for the elevator. After falling in love with the condo online while still living in Seattle, Dominic contacted the manager straightaway. He scouted out the building and surrounding neighborhood, making sure it would be a safe place for me to live.
I wouldn’t say that Dominic fought me every step of the way, but he pointed out every disadvantage of living here. I know he hoped that I would stay with him for a while, taking my time to find new living arrangements. I wasn’t averse to the idea, but after finding this place, I knew it wouldn’t be necessary.
Visiting the condo in person was the first time in forever that I’d felt excitement pumping through my veins. I think Dominic could sense it as well, which is why he didn’t throw up too many roadblocks.
Even though Dominic has a massive house, certainly more than enough room for us to live without being on top of each other, I craved my own space. I wanted to be close to school and The Art Institute of Chicago, where I’ll be volunteering. I’m hoping that by the time I need to land an internship, their familiarity with me will give me an edge over other candidates vying for the same position. My dream is to one-day work for them as a curator. There are other art museums in the area, and I would be grateful to land a position at any of them. But I have so many fond memories of The Art Institute.
While most kids don’t find strolling through the corridors of a museum and learning about art to be fun or exciting, it’s always been one of my favorite pastimes. Even as a small child, I could stare in fascination at a landscape for hours at a time, studying every minute detail. I would curl up on a bench and try my hand at sketching replicas.
Right down the street from my building is the Field Museum, the Museum of Science and Industry, Shedd Aquarium, Adler Planetarium, and The Museum of Contemporary Art. Having all of these spectacular places no more than a mile or so from where I live leaves me feeling nothing short of giddy.
How could anyone be bored in a city like this?
I plan on filling my days with school, volunteering, and museums when time allows.
“Have a good day, George,” I call before stepping onto the elevator.
“You too, Ms. Castile.”
Pushing the button for the thirtieth floor, I wait for the doors to close. Just as they start sliding shut, a big, masculine hand shoots out and catches the metal frame in one palm. My eyes widen with surprise as the doors immediately slide open. A moment later, a man steps inside the cabin with me. Feeling just a bit uncomfortable, I shift, knowing that I should probably say hello and introduce myself, but there’s something about him that makes me reluctant to draw any attention to myself.
As soon as that thought flutters through my head, he pins me in place with dark, velvety eyes. My breath stalls as his gaze continues piercing mine. At that moment, under his sharp scrutiny, I feel frozen in place. Unable to move a single muscle. The phone he’s holding chirps, breaking the thick tension that fills the small, enclosed space.
Dismissing me at once, his gaze shifts. Once his eyes relinquish their strange hold over me, I’m able to force out a relieved breath.
I realize that my legs are trembling. It feels as though I’m moments away from sliding to the floor in a heap. Having those intense, espresso-colored eyes fixated on me had everything within seizing before quickly grinding to a halt.
Rather ridiculously, my heart continues to beat wildly against my ribs.
Now that he’s preoccupied with the device in his hand, I’m able to stare unabashedly at him from beneath my lashes. Hands down, he’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.
Thick, inky black hair hits the collar of the starched white shirt peeking out from beneath a gray suit jacket. I know next to nothing about men’s fashions, but even I can spot quality when I see it. And this is definitely high-end, luxurious fabric that was hand-stitched specifically for him. I’d bet every penny of my inheritance that it wasn’t bought off a rack.
It fits his well-built frame perfectly, molding flawlessly to the wide breadth of his shoulders and across his chest before tapering in at his waist. Gray suit pants stretch over his muscular thighs draping to shiny black wingtips.
I’ve spent the last four years on a college campus. I’ve been surrounded by handsome boys. But that’s the difference here. The guys I’m used to are, for all intents and purposes, boys. They wear snug T-shirts, long athletic shorts, and slides on their feet.
They look nothing like this.
It’s like we’re not even talking about the same species.
Unable to help myself, I continue gazing at him in rapt fascination.
He’s just so completely… stunning. That’s probably the wrong word to use to describe this man, but it fits.
There’s something powerful, almost dangerous, that radiates from him in thick, heavy waves. There seems to be a darkness within him. It’s a little intimidating. Okay, a lot intimidating. A hundred butterflies take flight inside the confines of my belly. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could look away from him.
Coal black brows pinch together as he continues staring at the phone. Using his thumbs, he quickly taps out a message. I’m tempted to inch closer, just enough to catch a glimpse of what he’s so intent upon.
My eyes linger on his wide hands.
For just a moment, I wonder what they would feel like skimming over my naked body. I haven’t been touched in a year and a half. Before the crash, I’d had a boyfriend at college. I had liked Eric well enough. He’d been nice in the goofy, immature kind of way that twenty-one-year-old boys are. We’d been together for just about six months when the accident occurred. After my parents died, he didn’t know how to deal with me.
With my overwhelming grief.
Slowly but surely, we drifted apart. I retreated within myself as a comforting numbness set in. He was unable to penetrate my cool detachment. I can hardly blame him for not knowing how to help me or for not being mentally or emotionally equipped to deal with something so heavy and intense.
I didn’t know how to deal with it myself.
Only now, two years later, am I beginning to thaw.
To awaken from a long, dark slumber.
So, to feel this kind of instant, over-the-top attraction for the opposite sex…
It feels… good.
Better than good.
Amazing.
Even though nothing will come of it, I wholeheartedly welcome this impromptu infatuation running rampant through my system. For just a sliver of a moment, I want to soak it all up. I want to bask in it.
It feels so good to feel something again.
And come on… Just look at him.
If you want to have a harmless little crush on someone completely unattainable, this is the perfect man to star in your fantasies.
He’s just so impeccably put together.
Polished.
Right down to the massive silver Rolex around his left wrist.
Feeling very much out of his league, I automatically glance down at my own attire. My white shorts hit mid-thigh. A summery T-shirt hugs my breasts. Black sandals that I hastily shoved my feet into just before stepping out the door are strapped to my feet. A pair of tortoise shell sunglasses are perched on top of my head. I’d been so antsy to get out and start exploring that I’d thrown my long, blond hair up into a messy bun.
In hindsight, I should have taken a bit more care with my appearance. Much akin to Dorothy no longer being in Kansas, I’m no longer living in the dorms with a bunch of other grungy college students who don’t give a damn. Maybe it’s time to step up my game. It’s something to consider, at the very least.
Unconsciously, my eyes gravitate back to him. Once again, I’m bowled over by his good looks. By the sheer size of him. I guess that he’s somewhere around six foot three. Which makes me almost a whole foot shorter, since I top out around five foot four. Five foot five with heels.
In one smooth movement, he pockets the phone before looking at me with a strange intensity that leaves me breathless. If I were thinking properly, I’d drag my eyes away. But I don’t. I can’t. Even though the elevator continues climbing to the top of the building, it feels as if time is at a standstill.
One side of his mouth hitches.
Not a lot. Just a bit.
It’s more than enough to send my heart somersaulting, though.
His complexion is olive in tone. Nothing like my pasty whiteness. If I had to guess, I’d say he was of Italian origin.
God, but he’s beautiful. That one thought continues to ring throughout my head like a bell. I’m only partly conscious of the fact that I’m once again staring unabashedly. Heat slowly creeps up my neck until it reaches my cheeks.
Finally, the elevator chimes, signaling our arrival to the thirtieth floor. I should be relieved to escape his intimidating presence. Even though my eyes are still locked on his, I hear the doors slide open. Using his hand, he holds the metal frame so that they won’t close before we exit the cabin. Somewhere in the back of my brain, I realize that we’re both going to the same floor.
When I make no move to leave, one perfectly sculpted brow wings up as he continues watching me with something akin to amusement. When he’d first strode onto the elevator, he’d seemed almost dark and brooding. Or maybe his swarthy good looks just lent themselves to that description. There hadn’t appeared to be any light or humor within him.
That being said, he looks oddly entertained.
At my expense.
Just kill me now.
Please.
As that jarring thought slices through me, my hands tighten around the reusable grocery bags I’m holding before I flee from the elevator as if the hounds of hell are nipping at my heels.
Now that I’m no longer staring at all that male perfection, I silently berate myself for acting like a complete idiot in front of the stranger who apparently lives on the same floor as I do.
Great.
You would think that I’ve never come across a handsome man in all my twenty-three years. I shake my head at my own ridiculousness. I’m willing to bet that my open adoration was the perfect balm to his already massive ego. A man like that obviously knows how good-looking he is. I bet women throw themselves at him on a daily basis.
Slowing before my door, I set both bags down. Even though I resist the urge to glance over my shoulder, I know he’s about ten feet behind me. I’d hoped that he would head in the opposite direction after departing from the elevator, but no such luck.
A shiver skitters down my spine as he brushes past me on the way to his condo. I almost swoon as his spicy masculine scent wraps around me. Feeling out of sorts, I press my finger on the keypad before twisting the knob. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him stop at the door next to mine. He doesn’t spare me a glance before gaining entry into his own place.
Hauling the groceries inside, my entire body slumps as I lean against the door and close my eyes. I inhale one breath, then another, trying to calm everything racing madly within me.
I can’t decide if I want to run into him again or not.
Probably not.
Obviously, I can’t trust myself not to gawk at him like some kind of nitwit. How demoralizing is that?
So much for making a good impression on my new neighbor.
Jennifer lives in the Midwest with her husband, kids, a dog named Rocky, and a cat named Lily. After pursuing a Bachelor’s Degree in History and a Master’s Degree in Educational Psychology, she spent five years working as a high school counselor. Please contact Jennifer at [email protected] Connect with Jennifer on facebook and on Wattpad