He wraps Sully’s arm around his shoulders, taking over my position of assisting him out of the club. “You owe me, Rochester. That woman I was dancing with had just asked if I wanted to go back to her place.”
Since we’re only a few blocks from the hotel, we walk.
It’s a disaster, but we make it back, and after depositing Sully in his suite—where he passes out on his bed fully clothed before we even leave—I retreat back to mine.
After a quick shower, I shut the lights off and climb into bed, not bothering to dress. The linens are soft and welcoming, immediately bringing my tired, aching body comfort. For a moment, I rest my head against the pillow and shut my eyes, letting the blur of black and white dance behind my vision as I relax.
But the guilt from not responding to Vinnie earlier worms its way into my chest, so I reach for my phone.
The screen is bright, and I squint as I read through our prior messages and decide what to say.
I apologize for my delay. Unfortunately, I had to help a very intoxicated Sully back to his hotel room.
Her response is almost immediate.
That’s okay. Did you make it back to yours as well?
Sì. Curled up in bed.
Sounds cozy.
It would be if you were curled up beside me. The space next to me could use some warmth.
Still on for dinner tomorrow?
I wouldn’t miss it, piccola ladra.
As much as I wish I could stay awake all night and talk with her, my eyes are heavy, bouncing from open to closed with every glance at a word.
I do not want to be rude and simply stop replying, so I must say goodnight, Vincenza. The exhaustion has crept up on me. Sleep well, bellisima. Send me your address tomorrow, and I will see you at eight.
Closing my eyes again, I think about earlier when I had her in my arms, my lips pressed against her soft skin. I recall the sweet sounds she makes when I kiss her.
I long to be holding her now, and imagine what it’d be like to pull her close, skin against skin.
Picturing her beautiful face, I smile to myself over the simplicity of our message exchange. There was nothing extravagant about our conversation, but there didn’t need to be either.
I like that.
I like that beyond her outward appearance is a woman who is real and unapologetically herself.
Even though I am drifting in and out of sleep, I want to talk to her more—want to know what she has to say, and if she’s responded to my last message, but before I can muster the energy to reach for my phone again, I fall asleep.
Chapter 21
Vinnie
Sliding my palms down the front of my red dress, I smooth the already pristine fabric. The sweetheart neckline of the ruched bodice hugs my breasts, accentuating them in a classy way, and the long sleeves balance out the short hemline. My feet are bare because I hate wearing shoes in the house, and as much as I love my slippers, they do nothing to add to the outfit.
Nervous, I look over the place settings on the table, re-straightening the utensils that don’t need to be fixed.
Theo prepared chicken quarters with rosemary mashed potatoes and a green salad, with miniature molten lava cakes for dessert. Everything warms in the oven, with exception of the salad, which rests in the center of the table. Chardonnay chills on ice in a bucket so silver, it’s practically mirrored.
I’ve been thinking about Sly all day. It scares me how much I want to be around him—how much I crave him.
All day, my fingers have hovered over my phone's keyboard, itching to type a message to him just to read his response. I’ve wanted to call him, just to hear his voice.
But I’ve refrained.
