The Italian
Page 82
“Why am I your date? I’m sure you have a million girlfriends you could have asked.”
“This is true,” he says as our drinks arrive. “Although, unlike them, I have an invested interest in you.”
“Why?”
“Let’s just say that I find you fascinating, Olivia Reynolds.”
“Me,” I scoff. “Fascinating?”
He glances down at his watch. “All will be revealed shortly.”
“Giorgio!” someone calls from afar. A man standing with a group of people waves him over.
“Marcel.” He laughs. “I’ll be back in a moment, darling. Are you all right here for a moment?”
“I’m fine. Go do your thing.”
He stands and goes to the other side of the ballroom. I watch on as he kisses everyone on both cheeks.
“Buongiorno,” a voice says.
I turn to see a man in a black dinner suit standing behind my chair. He’s dashingly handsome with a honey-colored hair and big brown eyes.
“I don’t speak Italian, I’m sorry. Do you speak English?”
He sits down in the seat beside me and holds out his hand to mine. “Hello, my name is Sergio.”
I shake his hand. “I’m Olivia.”
“Are you new to Milan, Olivia? I haven’t seen you around before.”
“Yes.” I smile. “Although, I’m sure you don’t see everyone in Milan.”
“When a woman is as beautiful as you, I would have remembered her.” His eyes hold mine. “And I would have most definitely approached her to introduce myself.”
I open my mouth to speak but no words come out. I feel my face flush. “Are you here alone?” he asks.
“I’m here with a friend.” I gesture to Giorgio who is now watching the two of us.
“Ah.” He smiles. “I have competition.” I tuck my hair behind my ear. “If only I wasn’t working tonight.”
“You’re working here ton
ight?” I ask.
“Yes, my boss is on his way.”
“You work in fashion?”
He grins, amused. “A little.”
“Do you work for a design house?”
“I’m in…” He pauses, as if searching for the right word. “Security.”
“Oh. You’re someone here’s security?”
“Yes.” He smiles, reaches over and picks up my hand, lifting it to his lips. “Can I have your number? I would like to call you tomorrow.”