Emilia (Part 1)(38)

When I snagged Sal’s gaze, I lifted my champagne glass to my lips and tipped my head to the side. The light bubbles fizzled on my tongue all the way down my throat to my belly, mixing with the jumpiness already tumbling around in there.

Sal shot me a cocky grin, then dropped his arm from Gian’s shoulder. Without waiting to see if he followed, I placed my empty glass on a nearby end table and made my way through the kitchen to the mudroom, closing the pocket door behind me. A tiny sprig of glossy green leaves with a burst of red berries dangled from the domed polished nickel light fixture.

I stood directly beneath it, waiting for Sal to join me. Minutes ticked by, and my nerves stretched thin. I started pacing. Did he get caught? Waylaid? Change his mind?

The roar of laughter and clinking glasses floated into the room. I leaned against the white cabinets, defeat coiling around my chest. Maybe it was better if he stayed away. If someone caught us, my dad would summon Marcello to marry me by the New Year, and Sal, well, my dad would destroy him.

Seeing the stupidity of my game, I slid open the door determined to do the right thing and to rejoin the party, only I didn’t get far. Sal stood at the threshold, one side of his mouth hitched upward in knowing grin.

“You’re already giving up on me? I got accosted by your dad.”

He moved forward and like a choreographed dance I edged back. The soft thud of the closing door echoed in the small space. I pressed my hand to the center of my chest to calm my racing heart.

“No, just rethinking the wisdom of meeting you like this. I mean, if someone saw us—”

“Shh.” He pressed two fingers to my mouth, cutting me off. “Nobody will be looking for us, and you’ve been driving me crazy since I walked in the door.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Alessandro has been following you around all night like a puppy. If it weren’t so damn pathetic, I would punch him in the face. Did anything ever happen between you two?”

Alessandro was Pietro’s son and Lettie’s stepson. While he had been hanging around me tonight more than usual, he wasn’t interested in me, or at least I didn’t think so. I never gave him reason to believe I liked him as more than a friend. We were nearly the same age, and we used to go to school together until my dad pulled me out in favor of homeschooling. As far as I was concerned, that was it.

“You’re being ridiculous. I’m not interested in him as more than a friend.”

He pursed his lips in annoyance. “I don’t think he got that message.”

“I don’t agree. He’s not interested in me, so stop being a jealous jerk.”

His now angry eyes held me captive. “I’m not jealous. I’m protective.”

“Is that right?”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” he pointed to the ceiling, “when there’s mistletoe demanding I do my duty.”

I arched an eyebrow, my lips twitching. “Your duty, huh? Maybe I changed my mind.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” He closed the space between us, pressing me into cabinets adjacent to the garage door. He joined our hands together, resting them against the polished black countertop. “I came here to kiss a beautiful woman, my woman, beneath the mistletoe and wish her a Merry Christmas.” His lips brushed across mine gently. “And with any luck, next year we’ll be in a place where we can celebrate in the open. Without your father or that little shit, Alessandro.”

He kissed me, and I felt it all the way down to the tips of my toes and up to the roots of my hair. I yanked one of my hands from his grip, and my fingertips traced his jawline, down his neck and rested my palm against the firm plane of his chest over his thudding heart. His free hand painted a line up my thigh, snaking under my skirt, cupping my ass. The tips of his fingers gripped me tightly, claiming me as his own and God, did I wish he could. A moan tumbled from my mouth. I wanted to tell him I loved him and so many other things that had been swirling around in my mind over the last two days.

I twirled his red tie around my wrist, kissing him like it had been years and not mere days since my lips touched his.

“I wish we could run away tomorrow. I don’t want to wait four more months,” he muttered.

A tremor rippled through me. “Me neither…” I mumbled, wanting to drag him out the garage door and steal away before anyone noticed. My errant thoughts faded from my mind when his lips moved down my neck. My body burst to life with every caress, kiss, and puff of air.

He lifted me on to the top of the counter, wedging his legs between mine, and kept kissing me, drinking me in until I was boneless and limp, wondering how I’d find the energy to get off this counter and rejoin the party. Even worse, I was certain my cheeks were flushed and my hair frazzled, but I set out to boycott all my worries of the future tonight, and that was precisely what I intended to do right now.