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“Yes. I’m not going to apologize for it either. And it was fucking hot.”
“It was?” she questions me.
I frown. “Have you never touched yourself in front of your partner before?” She shakes her head. “You really have been dating dumbasses,” I tell her. “Watching you come was the highlight of my day,” I confess to her.
She frowns. “It was.” I nod. “And did you …?”
I shake my head. “I was at work, but I wanted to.”
“You did?” Again, she seems surprised.
“You may be a Fiorenzo, but I still want to fuck you,” I tell her honestly. She rolls her eyes, I can see the disbelief in them. “Does Paris ring a bell? I fucked you there when you asked.”
“True,” she muses as she sways on her feet.
“How much did you have to drink tonight?” I ask her.
“Enough to calm my nerves,” she tells me.
“Nervous about what?”
“You,” she says, looking right at me.
“I may be an asshole in business, Natalia, but you’re safe here,” I try to reassure her.
She looks up at me with glistening eyes. “How am I meant to know that?”
Our entire lives, we have been told to hate each other for a reason our fathers never wish to talk about, so she’s right in being nervous. I hold out my hand for her. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
She stares at my hand for a couple of beats before taking it, and we walk back inside hand in hand. At the table, I let go of her hand and pull out a chair for her. She gives me a little frown in confusion at my manners—probably didn’t think I had any. I walk back into the kitchen, grab the lobsters, and place the plates down in front of each of us. A bowl of salad is already in the middle of the table. Lastly, I grab a bottle of wine before taking a seat.
I hold up the bottle for her, but she shakes her head. “I think I’ve had enough,” she says. I nod and pour myself a large glass. “I can’t thank you enough for stopping me out there. I can’t believe how stupid I was,” she mumbles, not looking at me.
“Unfortunately, it was a scene I was used to with my …” I start to confess before stopping myself. Natalia looks up, waiting for me to continue, but instead, I shake my head, trying to dissipate the memories. “That story is for another night,” I tell her before digging into my dinner. Thankfully, she doesn’t push me on it, and we can enjoy the meal, even if it’s a little cold.
“How was work?” she asks, breaking the silence.
“Work was work. Except I had a visit from my father,” I tell her.
Natalia stills. “Seems like it went okay, your lip isn’t split again.” Her eyes fall to my still-healing lip before looking back up at me.
“He wasn’t happy about you moving in with me.” I’ll leave out the Fiorenzo whore comment.
“Fair. My family weren’t happy either,” she confesses, which surprises me that despite their objections, she still came.
“Yet here you are?” I smirk.
“Yet here I am,” she repeats, raising a brow at me. “What else did your father say?” she asks, changing the subject.
“Nothing more. That was all before he stormed out.”
Her brows pull together. “Why do you work for your father if things are … that tense?”
“Because I’m all he has left. Dario is gone, Romeo lives in New York. He doesn’t have anyone else.”
“Seems like through his own doing?”
She’s not wrong, as I shrug. “True, but you can’t change family, can you?”
