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Picking up the blanket, I walk into my bedroom and shut the door behind me to keep the wind from coming in.
I fold the blanket and set it down on the foot of my bed. Glancing around the bedroom, I let out a sigh.
All I want to do is talk to Damiano, but I also don’t want to attack him the second he walks into the mansion.
Now that he’s home, my stomach begins to spin with nerves – from the kiss and wondering what he’s decided to do with me.
I walk to my bedroom door, and opening it, I step out into the hallway.
Should I go downstairs?
I’m still trying to decide what to do when Damiano comes around the bend in the hallway. His eyes lock with mine, and my mouth instantly grows dry.
Without a word, he stalks past me and enters my bedroom. I follow him inside and a frown forms on my forehead when he heads for my closet.
He looks at my clothes, and my eyebrows fly up when something close to a growl rumbles from him.
He reaches into his pocket, and when he pulls his wallet out, I’m very confused by his actions.
Damiano takes a black card from the wallet and holds it out to me. “Get warm clothes for the winter and plan the wedding. There will only be fourteen guests. Excluding us.”
“Wedding?” I gasp.
He stalks closer, and grabbing my hand, he shoves the credit card into my palm.
When he walks away from me, I ask, “What wedding? To who?”
“Ours,” he mutters before disappearing into the hallway.
What?
An intense wave of pins and needles spreads over my body as I gasp.
Holy crap.
It takes a stunned few seconds before I rush after him.
Catching up to Damiano as he walks across the landing that leads to the right wing of the mansion, I say, “You can’t just tell me we’re getting married and stalk away.”
Not even looking at me, he says, “I’m tired, Gabriella.”
When he steps into his bedroom, I stop in the doorway. “Are we going to talk at some point?”
His eyes flick to mine as he loosens his tie. “Tomorrow.”
My gaze drifts over his handsome face, and seeing the exhaustion etched deep into his features, I think to ask, “Are you okay?”
Looking surprised by my question, he stares at me for a moment, then replies, “I’m fine. It’s just been a rough two weeks.”
Nodding, I take a step backward. For a moment, I hesitate, then I ask, “Can I make you some chamomile tea? It will help you relax.”
He shakes his head. “No, I’m just going to shower and sleep.”
“Okay.”
I turn around and start to walk away, but stop when he says, “Gabriella.”
I glance over my shoulder.
