23. Twenty-Two
Twenty-Two
Sienna
H earing the sound of laughter drifting from the living room, I follow the joyful noises and close my eyes briefly, savoring the merry echoes of happiness. It’s a melody of pure delight—a symphony of giggles and happy chatter that pulls me in. As I stand there silently, I take in the heartwarming scene: the three of them sitting on the floor, surrounded by a colorful mess of papers and crayons scattered across the coffee table. It’s a beautiful kind of chaos—papers with vibrant scribbles everywhere and the unmistakable scent of wax crayons in the air.
By now, I thought I would have gotten used to seeing Fabrizio’s soft side that breaks through his hard exterior, especially when he’s around his children.
Yet, every time I see him interact with them, it happens to amaze me all over again. His eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, are now warm and full of love.
“Look what Daddy made,” Maddy beams at me, her eyes sparkling with joy as she holds up a piece of paper. It’s a drawing, a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors that seem to be an attempt at a landscape with what I assume are flowers. Despite its imperfections, there’s something incredibly endearing about it. Fabrizio looks up slowly, a smile playing on his lips as his eyes travel up and down my figure, contentment evident in his gaze.
“What do you think? Am I a better artist than an architect?” he asks, his voice filled with playful innocence. I can’t help but smile, and as I lean in for a closer look at his masterpiece, I burst into laughter.
“Oh, that’s even worse,” I tease, my laughter mingling with his as he throws his head back in a deep, genuine laugh.
“Yeah, you’re right. I suck at this,” he grins, then looks at the twins. “Well, let’s see how much of an artist Sienna is—what do you think?”
“Yay!” Maddy nods eagerly.
With a playful smirk, Fabrizio motions for me to join them. I sit cross-legged next to him, feeling the warmth of his presence. He hands me a piece of paper, a challenging glint in his eyes, and for a moment, the world narrows down to this cozy, colorful corner of his home.
For some time, the four of us remain sitting on the living room floor, drawing pictures and laughing. The twins’ laughter is like a bubbling brook, light and refreshing.
We create a gallery of vibrant scribbles, but naturally, two energetic children can’t sit still for long. Soon enough, they’re running around the house, playing fetch.
Meanwhile, Fabrizio and I continue working on our drawings.
From the corner of my eye, I see Fabrizio setting down his crayon, satisfaction on his face. “Did you see the things I purchased for you?” he asks, breaking the comfortable silence.
When I woke up earlier, the bed was empty beside me. And as I got up, my eyes fell on three beautiful evening gowns hanging on the closet doors. Each one looked more exquisite than the last, their fabrics shimmering in the morning light. But in the heat of the moment, I had almost forgotten about them again.
“Yes, I did. They’re stunning. Thank you.” I smile at him, genuinely touched by his gesture and generosity. “But—to be honest, I can’t think of an occasion where I would wear something this nice.” My voice trails off, uncertainty lingering in the air.
“I want to take you to dinner tonight,” he says, his tone firm and commanding. It’s a statement, not a request, and it leaves no room for argument.
“What about the twins?” I ask, concern creeping into my voice.
“Oliver and Vance will manage an evening alone with them. Don’t worry, it’s not the first time,” Fabrizio explains.
“Of course,” I nod, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness.
A moment of awkward silence stretches between us, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. “Be ready at seven,” he says, his voice again a gentle command.
It’s twenty minutes to seven when I finally finish curling my hair and applying my makeup. A nervous flutter fills my stomach as I touch the luxurious fabrics of the dresses Fabrizio had gifted me just for this occasion. Each one is exquisite, far surpassing anything I own. The material feels silky and soft beneath my fingertips.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, though I know there’s no logical reason for my anxiety. It’s just dinner, I tell myself. Just the two of us.
After one last lingering look at the beautiful dresses, I choose one. The red silk feels even softer against my skin as I slip it on. I smooth the dress down with my hands, turning in front of the mirror to admire how it hugs my curves. The gathered fabric at my hips accentuates my figure, while the high slit elongates my legs. This isn’t the kind of dress I typically wear, and I can’t remember the last time I felt this beautiful. I shake my head at my reflection, almost not recognizing the transformed girl staring back. This is the kind of outfit worn by the type of woman a powerful, wealthy man like Fabrizio Moretti would date. The kind of woman I am certainly not. Yet, I can’t help but feel a twinge of excitement as I slip into my high heels and head downstairs.
“Wow.” Maddy’s eyes widen in awe as she looks up at me. “You look beautiful, like a princess.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” A blush rises up my neck, intensifying as Fabrizio steps into the room. He’s traded his usual dark attire for a light beige suit that highlights the sun-kissed tan he’s acquired over the past few days. My mouth goes dry at the sight of him. If I feel anything like a princess, then Fabrizio looks every bit the knight in shining armor straight out of a fairy tale. Sexy. Muscular. Powerful. Breathtaking. His eyes lock onto mine, piercing straight into my soul as he slowly approaches. He studies me, scrutinizing every detail of my appearance. With each step he takes, I grow more self-conscious. When he’s only inches away, his fingers brush my waist as he leans in to whisper in my ear.
The soft, seductive timbre of his voice makes the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “You look stunning, cuore mio. ”
“Thank you,” I whisper back, my voice barely audible. His hand glides down to the small of my back as he gently guides me out of the room and toward the front door, where Oliver is already holding it open for us.
“Please make sure the children are in bed by eight,” Fabrizio instructs, his tone firm yet kind.
“Of course,” Oliver nods curtly. “Enjoy your night.” When his eyes meet mine, I think I see the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips.
“Good evening, Mr. Moretti. Miss,” the host greets us with a warm smile and a slight bow of his head. “Allow me to guide you to your table.”
The older gentleman, dressed in a black suit and a crisp white button-down shirt, leads us through the dimly lit restaurant. The gentle flicker of candlelight dances across the white-clothed tables, casting a soft, nearly romantic glow. The enticing aroma of gourmet dishes fills the air, tantalizing my senses and making my mouth water.
As we navigate through the elegantly appointed dining room, I notice the patrons at each table. They are dressed to the nines, immersed in animated conversations and laughter. A few heads turn subtly in our direction, their curiosity piqued by our presence. Well, most likely not ours .
We continue our journey, eventually stepping out onto a beautifully adorned patio.
Here, a pianist and a violinist are stationed, their instruments weaving a tapestry of soft classical music that envelops the space in a blanket of romance. The music is soothing, creating an exquisite ambiance that feels almost otherworldly.
Finally, we reach a secluded area right on the beach. White fairy lights are strung delicately among the surrounding palm trees, their gentle twinkling mirroring the stars above. Each table is bathed in the soft, warm glow of candles, enhancing the magical atmosphere. Despite having dined at countless restaurants, I have never been to a place like this—so elegant, so enchanting, almost like a scene from a fairy tale or a movie.
There are only five tables outside, each strategically placed to ensure privacy and intimacy. The distance between them allows for quiet, personal conversations, free from the prying ears of others.
Fabrizio pulls out a chair for me. Once I am comfortably seated, he takes his place across from me.
I take a moment to absorb the breathtaking view. The ocean waves gently lap at the shore, their rhythmic sound blending harmoniously with the background music. It’s as if the entire setting is conspiring to create a perfect evening.
“How do you like it here?” Fabrizio asks, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.
“It’s perfect,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the spell of the moment.
Just then, a waiter approaches with a bottle of wine. My eyes widen, and a smile spreads across my face as I recognize the label—a Chateau Margaux. A bottle of this exquisite wine costs a small fortune at a store, and I can only imagine the price at a restaurant of this caliber. Yet, I choose to keep my thoughts to myself, savoring the luxury of the experience.
Fabrizio lifts his glass, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as his eyes lock onto mine. I mirror his movement, raising my glass and taking a sip. The wine is divine, and it’s starting to become my absolute favorite, even if I could never in this life afford it myself.
“Why did you bring me here?” I ask the question that has been lingering in my mind all day finally finding its voice.
He tilts his head slightly, his gaze softening as it sweeps over my face. “Because it’s been a long time since I had a nice dinner with a beautiful woman,” he says sincerely, his voice carrying a note of wistfulness. “And to thank you.”
“Thank me?” I echo, a mixture of surprise and curiosity in my tone.
“You’ve given me a new perspective on a lot of things,” he explains, his eyes earnest. “I realized there’s a lot of truth in what you’ve said recently, and I’m trying to take your advice to heart. I want to find a balance in my life. I won’t let my children grow up without knowing their father, especially since…” he trails off, but I know how his sentence ends.
Since they had already grown up without knowing their mother.
Moved by his honesty, I reach across the table and place my hand gently over his. The connection is immediate, a silent understanding passing between us.
“That’s wonderful to hear, but your children will also want you to find happiness,” I say softly.
“Happiness is something that can’t be forced,” he replies, his tone carrying a hint of resignation. “Just because you want it, doesn’t mean you’ll find it.”
“It’s going to happen if you open your heart,” I assure him with a gentle smile.
Our moment is interrupted as the waiter returns, placing a beautifully arranged plate of food before us. I pull back my hand, the brief contact lingering in my mind and my skin. As we begin to enjoy the culinary delights, our conversation shifts to lighter topics, each bite and sip drawing us further into a comfortable rhythm.
The evening feels remarkably normal, almost as if we were just another couple out for a typical Friday night dinner. This ordinary feeling makes me wonder—if he ever fully let down his guard, could he learn to enjoy a normal life? And could I be a part of it? Would I really want to?
As the last morsel of food is savored and the final drop of wine is drunk, Fabrizio stands. A wave of disappointment washes over me at the thought of the evening already ending. He extends his hand towards me, and the moment I take it, he gently pulls me up. Leading me to the patio, he stops and wraps me in his arms.
I tense for a split second, my body rigid, before surrendering to the warmth and security of his embrace. “What are you doing?” I ask, my eyes wide with surprise.
“Dance with me, cuore mio, ” he says simply, his voice a soothing command.
“What?” I respond, bewildered.
“You heard me. Dance with me,” he repeats, a playful glint in his eyes.
“Here?” I ask, incredulous, glancing at the large glass wall that separates us from the restaurant’s interior, where diners can clearly see us.
“Right here,” he confirms, his smile growing.
“But, I don’t think—” I begin to protest, feeling self-conscious.
“You’re not supposed to think but to dance,” he interrupts with a smirk, pulling me closer. His fingers trace a line along my spine before resting on the small of my back.
The music is soothing, and I find myself swaying to the slow, melodic tune. With each passing note, I relax more, losing myself in the moment and the man holding me. Very slowly, Fabrizio leans in, capturing my lips in a gentle, almost shy kiss. He parts my lips, his tongue sliding inside with a tenderness that surprises me, sending tingling sensations coursing through my body.
As our tongues entwine, I slide my hand up his chest, my fingers curling around his neck. His hands roam up and down my back, pulling me closer, and I can feel his growing arousal pressing against me. I cling to him, savoring every moment of the passion that builds between us. It’s so easy to give in, to lose myself in his touch, forgetting everything and everyone around us.
When he finally pulls back, I drag my tongue along my lips, already missing the feel of his mouth on mine. Inside the restaurant, many heads have turned towards us, dozens of people watching our every move.
“Maybe we should stop this,” I suggest, my face flushing hot with embarrassment.
“Why?” he asks, seemingly unfazed by the public attention.
“People are staring,” I explain, my blush deepening.
“Let them stare,” he shrugs nonchalantly.
His hand slides down a few inches, cupping my ass as he lowers his head. His hot breath grazes my earlobe as he whispers, “Let them imagine all the things I’m going to do when I have you in my bed, naked and spread out for me, wet and ready for me to enjoy you in every way I want, as often as I find necessary.”
I bite down on my lips to stifle a moan at the thought. He eases back, locking eyes with me.
“Let them see that you are mine,” he says, his voice firm and possessive. “Not for tonight. Not for the remainder of our stay here. But forever.”