Nate shot her a sympathetic look. Camilla had become a single mother at nineteen, after her boyfriend had dumped her when he found out about her pregnancy, which was probably why she was so cynical about men. Nate admired her for managing to finish school despite having a baby to take care of. He knew she still struggled financially. Although she was too proud to talk about it much, it was obvious that money was always tight.
He wished he could help her.
But then again… he could, couldn’t he?
A mischievous smile appeared on his face at the idea. Maybe he could make one person happy when it was revealed who the “secret girlfriend” was.
When it was six o’clock, Nate got to his feet, leaned down to Camilla’s ear, and murmured, “Bet on me.”
“What?” Camilla said, blinking at him.
Nate just gave her a sheepish smile and a shrug.
Her eyes widened almost comically. “WHAT?”
“Hush,” Nate said, glancing around. “Keep it quiet if you want to win.”
He walked away quickly, ignoring Camila whisper-yelling at him and demanding answers. It was six already. His workday was over. He couldn’t stand the idea of staying here even a moment longer, surrounded by his gossiping colleagues while they speculated about which supermodel his Raffaele was in a relationship with. He would go to Raffaele’s apartment and wait for him there. He knew he’d have to wait a long time—Raffaele rarely left work before eight—but Nate didn’t care. He wanted to see him. It had been twelve whole hours since he’d seen him. Yeah, “clingy” didn’t even begin to describe it, but he didn’t give a damn.
Nate was heading across the parking lot to his car when a familiar white Maserati rolled smoothly to a stop in front of him.
Nate stared.
He hadn’t expected that Raffaele would want to go home so early—it was so unlike him—but maybe he was just as impatient as Nate was.
The passenger door opened, and Nate smiled helplessly. His feet moved.
The next thing he knew, he was inside the car and then Raffaele was right there, and their mouths were meeting hungrily, licking into each other, pressing closer, tighter. God, this man.
Very distantly, Nate was aware of some noise in the background, but he couldn’t focus on anything but Raffaele’s arms around him and his firm, sensual lips on his.
When someone wolf-whistled, they broke apart, gasping for air.
Blinking dazedly, Nate opened his eyes.
He found a few dozen people staring at them, their mouths agape, expressions of utter surprise and shock on their faces. A few people had their phones out, clearly taking pictures.
Fuck.
A laugh left Nate’s mouth. And here he had been, stressing about how to tell his colleagues that they were together.
His face very warm, he looked at Raffaele and just laughed harder when he saw that he was actually attempting to put on his I’m-your-scary-and-horrible-boss look. It wasn’t working very well, considering that his hair was tousled, his dark eyes were glazed, and his lips were still wet and shiny. He looked infinitely kissable and hot, not scary at all.
The intimidating air was also probably ruined by the fact Nate was practically in his lap.
Nate sat back in the passenger seat and gave an awkward smile to their captive audience just as Raffaele smoothly drove them away. His smile turned sheepish when he noticed Brenda among the gawking crowd. She was the only person who didn’t look all that surprised. She gave him a crooked smile and mouthed something that looked suspiciously like I told you.
He chuckled, remembering all the times Brenda had tried to convince him that Raffaele treated him differently from everyone else.
“I hope Camilla managed to put a bet on me,” Nate mumbled, looking away. The cat was out of the bag now. It was almost a relief. Everyone would know now. And maybe the way it was revealed was for the best, no matter how embarrassing it was. The fact that Raffaele had picked him up—and kissed him—in front of everyone showed that he wasn’t ashamed of their relationship—that he was serious about Nate. Raffaele wasn’t exactly known for public displays of affection.
“What?” Raffaele said, his gaze on the road.
Ignoring his buzzing phone—those were probably messages from his freaking-out co-workers—Nate stared at Raffaele’s strong, handsome profile and smiled helplessly, unable to believe this man really was his. Raffaele loved him. He loved him.
“Nothing,” he said, taking Raffaele’s free hand. He felt terribly lovesick and clingy, even though Raffaele was right there. Fuck, he wanted to kiss him so badly, but he was driving.