Chapter Eight
Isabella
Oh my God… it’s him. It’s actually him. The man from the park.
He’s here, standing on the first floor balcony of the club and I’m just staring at him like I’ve never seen a man before.
Okay… that’s not quite right. I’m staring because I’m surprised to see him, and I’ve never seen a man as gorgeous as him before. I knew I wasn’t likely to forget his face. Even without feeling his penetrative stare on me moments ago, he has the type of face I would easily pick out in a crowd. Just like I am now.
Now I’ve seen him though I don’t know if I should say hi or leave.
It was embarrassing that we met because I was crying. What he said to me was sweet though. It was even sweeter for him to give me his flower. He didn’t have to be so nice.
I want to lift my hand and wave, but it feels like I should do more than that.
When he backs away from the balcony, I know I must do something. I can’t just sit here.
But, what if he’s here with someone? Like a girlfriend. I’d be surprised if he didn’t have a girlfriend. The way he was looking at me though suggests he might not.
I’m so silly, I can’t see him anymore. I’m sitting here thinking about what to do while he’s getting away.
Setting my unfinished drink on the counter I get up and make my way upstairs to look for him.
There are a few couples making out in the booths and some dancing around. I can’t see him though. I turn down the little path leading down to the other side of the dance floor and scan the area for him. If I came up the only other path, he would have gone down there. Or… maybe he’s behind me.
I turn and I see him standing over by the wall of the other bar. There aren’t many people there. Sure enough, though, he’s watching me.
Pulling in a breath I make my way over to him, breaking another rule. One more rule to break tonight. When I’m out I break them all. I’m not supposed to talk to men, so I do. No one is supposed to touch me, so I touch.
I’m not a slut. I don’t sleep around, but with the life I live I can’t exactly have a boyfriend, so I’ve had a few one-night stands. And when I say a few. I literally mean three. With the life that awaits me there’s no way I’d be able to see a man like this and speak to him. So, I’ll take the chance tonight.
Heat streaks through me when I get closer to him, the mysterious Italian Stallion who dazzles me even more now than he did the other day.
He looks taller now because I’m wearing my pumps. I place him at about six foot six, so to my mere five foot four he towers over me, even leaning against the wall.
Those eyes stare into me with desire I won’t resist and in the dim lights he looks just as striking as in the daylight.
“You following me, Bellezza?” he asks with a smile that’s just as devastatingly gorgeous as he is.
“Maybe.”
“Oh… I see. Buonasera signorina.” I like how he talks, swapping between Italian and English at intervals like it’s the norm.
I speak five languages, so I understand him perfectly.
“Buonasera signore, in Russia we say dobryy vecher.”
“Is that where you’re from beautiful?” he asks and my mouth goes dry.
He’s charming, effortlessly charming. He doesn’t have to try either. I can tell charm comes naturally to him. This man could talk me out of my panties with just his smile. It’s a dangerous thought for me.
“Yeah. I am. I haven’t been there in a very long time though.”
“I’m from Sicily. Haven’t been there in a while either.” He looks me over and I don’t miss the way his eyes rake boldly over my body, and neither does my body miss the pull of the stimulus. “Are you here by yourself?”
“Yeah. I sometimes come here to hang out. Are you … here by yourself too?” I ask tentatively. The last thing I’d want is for his girlfriend to come and ask me what I’m doing talking to her man.
“I am by myself. It’s a nice place to hang, and I guess to reunite with a beautiful woman you ran into in the park.”