“I know.” I rested my forehead against his chest. “I want out so bad, and this might be the simplest way to go about it.”
“Out of what?”
“This life. The Trassato family duty stuff. The marriage my dad’s negotiating. All of it. If I jump on this opportunity, my dad might be mad. He can’t do anything, though, because it’s harmless. I’m following my dream. The same dream he’s jammed down my throat since my mom died, and if everything works out, I might never have to come back here or marry that guy I don’t know. It’s perfect.”
He tightened his hold on me for a split second, the roses flattening between our bodies. “Okay, Em, I get it. I do, and I’ll help you. It can’t go down like this. We have to be smart about it. You need to break it to your dad first and let him think he’s in control, otherwise he’ll shut this down so fast your head will spin. And I hate to point out the obvious, but we need to research this guy before you commit to anything. Using you would be the perfect set up to get to your dad.”
A shuddery groan tore from my lips, my mind whirling with the implications. The fact he said “we” not “you” stuck out like a blinking, neon sign, and I liked that a whole lot more than I’d ever admit. Since my mom died, nobody was on my team. While I didn’t want to read too much into Sal’s words, I couldn’t deny they made me feel all warm and fuzzy deep in my belly, kind of like a shot of grappa.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll go tell Lorenzo I’ll be in touch after I review the materials and discuss it with my family.”
He brushed a few teasing kisses on my lips, and my heart stalled for a flash. He hadn’t kissed me since that night after the warehouse incident, and sometimes I wondered if I imagined the whole thing.
I curled one of my hands into the tight weave of his suit and the other in the short hair on the back of his skull, not wanting to let go of him and this moment yet. Who knew how long I’d have to wait until I felt his mouth against mine again. He ran hot and cold—well, a little less cold lately, and more mysterious. I couldn’t get a read on what he wanted from me, if anything at all.
His mouth skated hot across my jaw, and he nuzzled the hollow beneath my ear. Incomprehensible warmth traveled through me, and I sagged against the solid planes of his chest, the steady thump of his heart beneath the palm of my hand. His relatively innocent kiss lit me up like a stick of dynamite.
“I’ll wait here while you talk to him. Then we’ll go.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
We didn’t go out to dinner, and the conversation with Lorenzo quickly vanished from my mind when I discovered Sal’s intended destination. My legs teetered, and my heart galloped, both nervous and excited to be alone with Sal at his studio apartment.
I’d tried to keep my feelings for him in check, not wanting to get my hopes up or read anything into his kisses, his lingering touches, or the way his eyes followed me from place to place like he had less than honorable intentions. It was an uphill battle, and it wasn’t long before stage five clinger thoughts rambled nonstop through my mind.
I cleared my throat. “So what are we doing here? I can’t imagine that this is on my dad’s list of approved destinations. These days he only lets me out of the cage to go to family events and piano lessons. I take that back. He did let me do lunch with Lettie that one day way back when, but that doesn’t count.”
Sal peeled off his suit jacket and unknotted his tie. His eyes gleamed with so many layers and unspoken intentions that my toes curled inside my heels. Giddiness and want coiled around my chest, fogging up my brain. The all too familiar draw of Sal sucked me under like quicksand, and I knew I was a goner. I’d follow him to the end of the Earth right now if he asked. He threaded his fingers through mine and led me to the worn black leather sofa, pulling me into his lap.
“Well, the performance won’t end for another hour and a half so I figured we had some time to kill.”
My heart kicked up a notch. Sal’s startling eyes studied me, his lids dipping lower and his lips inching upward. Since that night in my room, I couldn’t stop reminiscing about the way his hands and lips felt against my skin. I’d spent my entire life in the cocoon of my dad’s making, only breaking out a slight amount recently, and I wanted more.
I fidgeted with my hands in my lap, not sure where to put them. His thighs? His shoulders? “Uh-huh,” I mumbled, knowing he expected an answer.
“We are going to have dinner. They’re delivering it here in an hour. The question is what are we going to do until then?”