Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Halle
“Where?” She looks around.
“Over in the corner in the gray shirt.”
She cranes her neck to look over the crowd. “Where’s his friend, that Valentino?”
“I don’t know. Oh my god.” I look down at myself as I straighten my dress in a fluster. “Do I look okay?”
“You look hot.”
“Ladies, take your seats,” the MC says over the microphone.
“If he doesn’t come to my table, I’m going to die. Not even joking.”
“Good luck.” She kisses my cheek.
“You too.” The women all sit down at the tables while the men congregate at the back. My eyes scan the crowd.
Has he seen me?
Would he even remember me if he did? How does this work? Do they get to pick what table they go to first?
Ahhh, kill me now. The women here are all beautiful, what if he meets someone else? What’s a man like him doing in a place like this, anyway?
As if he needs to speed date.
A bell sounds and the men begin to walk to the tables. I hold my breath as I wait.
This is fucking nerve-wracking.
A blond man walks over and smiles. “Hello.”
Go away.
“Hi.” I force a smile.
He pulls out the chair and sits down opposite me. “My name is Gregory,” he says in an English accent.
“Hi, Gregory, I’m Halle.”
I came to Italy to meet an Italian Gregory. Buzz off…
Gregory chats away, and he’s nice enough, but my eyes roam the room to find Bruno.
What table is he sitting at?
Has he seen me?
The bell rings.
“Nice to meet you, Gregory,” I smile. Not lying, it was nice to meet him, but I hope to never see him again.
“You may now change tables,” the MC calls over the microphone.
I glance over to Allegra. Oh my god, she mouths, and I giggle. She must have liked her first speed date.
“Mind if I sit down?” a heavily accented deep voice asks. I glance up to see big, beautiful brown eyes. The ones who have been haunting me.
“Hi,” I breathe out.
“Hello.” He sits down opposite me and leans back in his chair. Dominance oozes from his every cell as he holds out his hand for mine. “Bruno.”
I put my hand into his and he lifts it to his lips and kisses the back of it. “Halle,” I murmur, mesmerized merely by his presence.
“So very beautiful, Halle.”
I smile, unable to think of a reply. Every logical thought has left my brain.
His dark eyes hold mine, and the air crackles between us.
“How was your weekend?” he asks as he continues to hold my hand in his. Goose bumps scatter up my arms from his touch.
“It was good. And yours?”
“It could have been better.” He raises an eyebrow, and I want to explain why I left the club without saying goodbye.
Act cool.
No, I’m not going to mention it. I don’t want to seem too desperate.
“Tell me about yourself, Halle.” He sits back in his chair.
“Umm…” I swallow the bucket of sand in my throat. “I’m American.”
“From which part?”
“New York.”
“What are you doing in Roma?”
“My friend and I are here on a work exchange for twelve months.”
His finger is steepled up to his temple, his elbow resting on the table as he listens. “How long have you been here?” he asks.
“Two weeks.”
“So I have eleven months and two weeks to corrupt you.” He smirks.
“Yes.” I smile dreamily. Start tonight.
He takes out his phone. “What is your number?”
“Oh…” I glance around. Is that what we are supposed to do?
“The bell is going to go off very soon, Halle, and I’m not leaving here without your number.”
“Right.” I smile. “It’s I067 93 21 151.”
“Friday night, I’m taking you out.”
“You are?”
“I am.”
“You don’t waste time.”
“I know what I want.” His eyes darken before dropping back down to my lips. “And what I want is you.”
“That sounds . . . ” I cut myself off before I say something really fangirly and pathetic.
The bell rings. “I cannot stay afterward, I have to work,” he tells me.
“Okay.”
“Do not give anyone else your number,” he demands.
“Do not ask for anyone else’s number,” I fire back.
He bends and kisses my cheek. The scent of his aftershave dances around me. “Friday night.”
“Friday night,” I whisper, drunk on his pheromones.
He gets up and walks to the next table, and I sit back in my chair, shocked by my visceral reaction to him.
Holy shit…
Every time my phone rings, I scramble to answer it, and every time I do, I get disappointed that it’s not him.
It’s been twenty-four hours since I gave him my number, and like a little kid at Christmas, I’m over the moon with excitement.
He better call me, or I’m going to go insane. Either that or drive Allegra completely mad. I text her for the hundredth time today.
He hasn’t called yet
She texts back.
Will you fucking chill.
He will.
I flop back onto the couch with a dejected sigh. I’m suddenly remembering why I hate dating: they either call too much or they don’t call at all. It’s exhausting.
I go through my game plan for if he does call. Act casual, ask to meet him there, and if we do end up going out, do not, under any circumstances, sleep with him on the first date.
I actually like this guy, and I don’t want him to think I’m easy. Even though it would be totally easy for him to get me into his bed, I’m pretending that it wouldn’t be. I’m faking it till I make it… or something like that.
My problem is I’m a feast-or-famine kind of girl: I either haven’t gone on a date for twelve months and am completely sworn off men, or I go on a bender and wake up beside the devil.
Bad boys are my kink, a self-inflicted torture that I cannot resist.
But that was the old me…
This time I’m doing it different. I’m older now, and I need to get my shit together and use my brain for once. I’m going to make sure we have meaningful conversations and have fun. I’m going to get to know him and not be a dumb deer-in-the-horny-headlights kind of girl.
My phone rings and I glance at the screen.
Unknown number
Eeep…
“Hello,” I answer.
“Hello, Halle,” the deep voice replies.
I scrunch my face up in excitement and jump off the couch. I begin to pace as I listen.
Act cool.
“Who’s this?” I ask. Ha-ha… I’m totally nailing this being cool thing.
“You know who it is,” he replies.
Oh, he’s onto me. Maybe not so much, then.
“Ummm, let me guess,” I play along.
“It’s Bruno,” he snaps impatiently.
“I knew that. Just acting cool.”
Oh, hell. I screw up my face and slap myself in the forehead. Why did I say that?
“I don’t like cool,” he says, but I can tell that he’s smiling.
“Yeah, well.” I smile too. “Are you going to ask me out, or …?”
“It sounds like you’re asking me out now?”
“Maybe I am.”
“Tomorrow night, dinner?”
“A-ha.”
“I will pick you up?”
“No, I’ll meet you there.”
At least I got one thing on my checklist achieved.
“I’ll book somewhere and get back to you.”
“Okay.” I hang on the line with bated breath as I wait for his next sentence.
“Goodbye, Halle,” he breathes. A promise hangs in the air between us.
“Goodbye, Bruno.”
Friday night and I’m pimped within an inch of my life. I’m tanned and waxed, my makeup is natural, and I’m good to go in any situation, if you know what I mean.
My long blonde hair is out with full waves. I even bought a new dress; it’s cream and strapless and it fits perfectly. It was way out of my price range, but once I tried it on, I knew that nothing else would compare.
Seeing this is the most excited I’ve ever been about a date, I figured screw the budget.
You only live once, right?
I’ve been ready for an hour and sip my wine as I wait for the Uber. There is one thing on my mind, though, an annoying little voice from deep in my psyche that won’t go away, the girls warning about him the other night.
They are not the kind of men you mess with.
What does that even mean? Are they players, or something more sinister?
I can’t find him on social media, and seeing I don’t even know his surname, I can’t search anything up about him.
I can’t get ahead of myself here; I need to know what I’m dealing with, and the first mission tonight is to find out his full name. I can’t believe I didn’t ask for it already. Let’s just hope he’s not a serial killer who’s wanted in ten countries.
My phone beeps.
Driver arriving in one minute.
I tip my head back and drain my glass of Dutch courage.
Let’s do this.
I walk down the street, my eyes flicking between the strip of restaurants I’m walking past and the Maps app on my phone. I think it should be just down here. I finally see the gold sign hanging over the door.
G U I S E P E S.
Wow, this looks nice.
I push through the heavy doors. “Hello, may I help you?” the waiter asks.
“Yes, I’m . . ”I glance around, “Meeting someone here.” I see him over in the corner. He stands and I wave. “That’s him over there.” I smile, relieved. We both showed, so the night isn’t a total disaster… yet.
The waiter leads me over to the table, and Bruno smiles and kisses my cheek. “Ciao Halle.”
My stomach flips at the sound of his voice. What is it about this guy?
“Hello.” The waiter pulls out my chair and I sit down. “Thank you.”
He hands us a drinks menu. “I will be back to take your order in a moment.” He leaves us alone.
“So…” Bruno’s eyes hold mine.
“So.” I smile.
“Feels like it took forever for tonight to come,” he purrs.
“It did,” I agree.
“What shall we drink?” He opens the menu.
Alcohol, all of it.
I open the drinks menu, then I remember my purity promise for tonight. Okay, no slut juice. Scratch tequila from my thoughts. “I might just have a glass of wine.”
He smiles and closes the menu. “I’ll join you. Which wine shall we drink?”
“I didn’t get that far.”
Fuck, don’t make me choose. According to everyone else on earth, I have terrible taste in wine. My eyes scan the choices. Shit… I close the menu and put it down. “Surprise me.”
He raises his eyebrow. “I like the sound of that.”
His double meaning makes me blush, and I feel my cheeks heat.
The waiter comes back and he orders something in Italian. I can’t understand what he’s saying but it sounds wonderfully exotic. I feel myself slip even further under his spell.
The waiter leaves us alone and his focus comes back to me. “So…”