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“Alright.” He leaned into the table. “What are you doing in Cuba on a Thursday night?”
I was there for work. “I’m a jet-setter. You?”
“I’m a troublemaker.”
I leaned into the table, too. “And what kind of trouble are you getting into?”
“The kind that’s sittin’ right in front of me.”
“Oh, little ole me?” I grabbed my chest and fluttered my eyelashes. “Why, whatever do you mean?”
Curiosity got the best of him. “Darlin’, how old are you?”
“Old enough.”
“For what, exactly?”
I downed my drink. “Sex, drugs, and rock and roll.”
“Those are big words coming from such a little package.”
“Yeah… you must be used to holding little packages.”
He laughed, throwing his head back.
“I hate to break up this bonding moment and all.” I cunningly smiled. “But it’s getting past my bedtime. Are you in, or are you out?”
He met my eyes again. “I guess I have no choice but to say yes.”
“Listen, I’m a firm believer that no means no, so just say the word.”
“I’m in.”
For the next thirty minutes, we played an intense and concentrated game of dominos and just when I thought I was going to win, I lost. I was never one for losing, but I kept up my end of the bargain and pulled out my cell phone.
“What’s your Venmo? I can send it when I’m back in the States.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“A bet’s a bet.”
“I’ll take something else instead.”
My eyebrows pinched together, dropping my phone.
“I get to pick out one of your tats and have you tell me what it means.”
I scoffed. “You’d lose a grand to know what a tattoo means? Now that’s just bad business.”
“I like to live life on the edge.”
He stood, gravitating toward me like a magnet. His feet moved on their own accord. Each stride brought him closer to me before he finally broke the distance between us. Slowly, he skimmed his thumb down my clavicle bone, never losing contact with my skin. For a second, he ran his fingers back and forth along the date that was tattooed in Roman numerals.
“This one,” he simply stated. “I want to know about this one.”
He just stood there, waiting for me to share a piece of my soul with him as if it were nothing, when it was everything. His stare followed the movement of my tongue, watching me lick my lips—my mouth suddenly dry.
“What’s the date mean, Duchess?”
