Chapter Twenty #2
He takes in the long-sleeved, shimmery emerald dress hugging me all the way to my ankles. The delicate gold drop earrings. The sleek feathered chignon. The elegant exposure of my neck and collarbones.
By the time he’s done drinking me in, his gaze meets mine with a knowing glint. As if he realizes, with absolute certainty, that this wasn’t Wendy’s work.
Eyes still holding mine, he buttons his jacket and mutters to Wendy, “Perfection.”
And he hasn’t even seen the backless deep V-cut yet...
~
HEADS TURN AS Stefano escorts me into a swanky restaurant nestled in a posh neighborhood, his hand firm at the small of my back. Some patrons offer respectful nods. Others swiftly avert their gaze.
The air is steeped in elegance. Velvet conversation, clinking crystal, and music that floats like silk—soft, sultry tunes spun by a pianist and saxophonist on a dais at the front.
A familiar server greets us and guides us to a private VIP section.
As we settle in, Stefano casually says, “Brian?”
The server snaps his spine straight. “Mr. Castello.”
“If there are any ‘Kimones’ working in the kitchen tonight,” he says, slow and pointed, “tell them to think twice.”
The blood drains from Brian’s face. “Measures have been put in place, sir. Your trust will never be violated again.”
With a single nod, Stefano waves him off. “Go.”
Once the server scurries away, I glance at him. “What time did you agree to meet?”
Stefano checks his watch. “Thirty-two minutes from now.”
“And your instructions for me?”
“You’ll be introduced as my adviser. Advisers listen, observe, analyze, and advise.
” His voice is unusually light. “This is less of a meeting and more of a formality. The real discussion is scheduled in a few days. All communication so far has been with the head honcho and his advisers, but it’s his sons who’ll be relocating to handle the Vegas leg of the operation. Tonight is just a vibe check.”
“Ah, okay.”
He adds, “Business talk will be kept to a minimum. You don’t need to do anything but smile, look pretty, and let me know later if you catch any red flags.”
He thinks I’m pretty now? “But I actually get to eat this time, right?”
One corner of his mouth twitches, an amused glint in his eyes. “Do you ever think of anything other than food?”
I pretend to consider it. “Hmm…meh. Not really. Nothing seduces my brain quite as much.”
Abruptly, he stands and extends his hand. “Come dance with me.”
Uh, wait…what? Dance? Did I mishear that? “Huh?”
“It’s a good way to kill time and take stock.” He nods toward the open floor near the front of the restaurant, where the musicians are tucked into a spotlighted corner. “The music’s good. Let’s show them we appreciate it.”
Of all the things Stefano Castello does to surprise me, this might top the list. “I didn’t peg you as the type to dance in public while people watch.”
“Now you know.” His long fingers curl in a subtle come here. “Let’s go.”
Stunned and intrigued, I stand and place my hand in his, letting him lead me out.
He acknowledges the musicians with a respectful nod, then loops his arm around my waist, pulling me against him with no hesitation.
Effortlessly, he takes the lead, guiding me into a slow, sinuous waltz that’s entirely too sexy for this much clothing.
“You’ve got some nice moves, Mr. Castello.”
He leans in, his mouth brushing my ear. “In all areas.”
Hold up. Is he…seducing me?
Or is he screwing with my head? Because an hour ago, I was a “tasteless rag doll.” Earlier today, I was “larvae.”
Yet now…now he’s holding me like I belong to him. Like he’s showing me off. Proud to be seen with me.
The king of Vegas.
“Green…it’s your color,” he says, voice rich and low, a tone he’s never used with me before. It slides down my spine like silk, leaving a trail of shivers in its wake. “You should wear it more often.”
“Eh.” I feign indifference, even as my pulse spikes. “I’ll stick to my nondescript rags. We can’t have you getting any more obsessed with me than you already are.”
One corner of his mouth kicks up in a jagged smile, eyes darkening with something I feel in the pit of my stomach. “Why do you dress to hide?”
“Because I’m a simple girl. Not an attention-loving narcissist like you.”
“Simple,” he repeats, almost to himself. Followed by a light scoff. “I’ve run background after background on you, certain your story was all bullshit. But…” He pauses, gaze sharp. “Ask me what I saw when you walked out with Wendy earlier.”
The flutters in my stomach stills in anticipation… “What did you see?”
“Royalty,” he breathes. “You knew all along how to shine. You just choose to keep it hidden.”
He pulls me in. Flush against him. So close I feel the heat of his breath against my mouth. His head dips, lips a whisper away from mine, his voice a velvet snare. “Tell me, little liar. Who are you really? What are you hiding?”
My heart is thudding so hard, it drowns out the music. “Overthinking creates delusions,” I return, damn near breathless. “You should give your brain a break every now and then.”
His fingers find my spine, bare and exposed, and begin a slow, deliberate ascent. Featherlight. Torturous. Awakening every nerve ending in my body.
“Swear to God…” he rasps, his dark gaze roaming every inch of my face. “You make me so—”
He stops himself. Just like that, pulling the moment tight, taut, before snapping it.
“Let’s go,” he says, voice suddenly cool again. “Our guests are here.”