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The word rolls off his tongue like melted chocolate. I fold my arms beneath my breasts and give him my best unimpressed look.

"I'll consider it."

Enzo's smile turns wicked. "Consider quickly, Bridget. I'm not letting another man beat me to it."

He brushes his lips over my knuckles, an outrageously old-fashioned gesture that works far better than it should. Then he walks away, leaving me beside a rosebush with my pulse racing.

I came to this wedding hoping for free champagne and a decent slice of cake.

Now I'm wondering whether Prince Charming might actually exist.

And whether he knows what to do with a woman who comes with five cats.

CHAPTER TWO

BRIDGET

I've decided rich people don't believe in doing anything halfway.

The reception looks like somebody robbed a royal palace, hired every florist in Los Angeles, and decided the whole thing needed more chandeliers. There are flowers hanging from the ceiling, gold-rimmed plates on tables covered in expensive linens, and a champagne fountain I'm seriously considering sticking my face under.

I've never seen so much money spent on one evening. Of course, I've also never worn an eight-hundred-dollar dress I can't wear a normal bra with, so today has been full of new experiences.

Including Lorenzo Moretti.

I'm standing near the bar, contemplating whether the tiny appetizers circulating on silver trays qualify as actual food, when I spot him across the room. He's talking to several men in expensive suits, looking perfectly at home among people who probably consider my annual salary pocket change.

He glances my way, catches me staring, and smiles.

Fantastic. Apparently, my body's decided to embarrass me independently of my brain.

"Ready for that dance?"

I nearly choke on my champagne. Jesus Christ. Does the man teleport?

Enzo stands beside me, looking altogether too pleased with himself. He takes my empty glass and sets it on the bar before offering his hand.

"I was beginning to think you'd forgotten," he says.

"It's been approximately twenty minutes."

"I've been waiting."

Well, hell. What's a woman supposed to do with that?

"You're awfully bossy," I tell him, slipping my hand into his.

"So I've been told."

"That doesn't sound like a compliment."

"Coming from you, I'll take it as one."

I laugh as he leads me toward the dance floor. Elise and Nico have just finished their first dance, and the band begins another slow song as couples drift beneath the crystal chandeliers.

Enzo draws me into his arms, one hand holding mine while the other settles against my waist. He's warm and solid beneath that expensive tuxedo, and I suddenly become painfully aware of how long it's been since I've danced with a man who makes my heart race.

"You can relax," he murmurs.