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We’re on our second bottle of wine and with every dish, she has smiled more and more, opening up. She can deny it all she wants; I am not the only one who would like to live out this so-called fantasy of mine. We’d make it work somehow.

Standing up, I offer her my hand, and she takes it automatically. Eyeing the quartet, they play a melody that rings of romanticism with every note.

“I can’t dance,” she whispers, clutching my arms.

“I have you.” It’s all I say as I swing her on the floor.

She’s a fast learner and I don’t know how much time passes, nor do I care. With her in my arms, the world could cease existing and all I’d like to do is keep dancing till the very end.

We stop only when she winces slightly. With the heels she’s wearing—two golden spikes, I don’t even have to wonder why.

Back at the table, I pull out the chair for her. As she takes her seat, I crouch in front of her.

“What are you doing?” she asks in a high-pitched tone, looking around. “People are watching. What are they going to say?”

“That this is how a man treats his woman.”

“You’re not just any man. Your repu—”

I don’t let her finish as I pin her down with a hard stare. “Luciana, I treat my woman as the queen she is. If anyone has a problem with that, let them comment. Only one will make that mistake. I assure you.”

After dessert arrives, she’s about to bring the fork filled with a chocolate raspberry mousse to her mouth when I say, “I’ve been hard since we left your hotel suite.”

“What does that mean?” she grins, thoroughly pleased with my state.

“You’ll see what that means.” I wink at her.

Tonight, I am fucking something else of hers.

Enzo makes me feel things I can’t describe, let alone comprehend.

With him, I’ve tapped into a new world of sensations, riding the highest emotional wave possible. He’s so entrancing, making me feel as if I am constantly dizzy.

With him, I am never on alert, not thinking about my posture, my words, my actions. There are no power games we play, even though the atmosphere is always playful.

His words play in my head on repeat and desire swirls low in my belly, my thighs clenching in response. I let out a shaky breath, eager to experience that ultimate pleasure he so generously gives me.

In his presence, I forget everything. He’s beckoning me deeper and deeper into his dark lair with sinful promises of experiences I am eager to feel.

If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up, aware nothing will ever compare to the things I experience with him.

He straps the sandals back on my feet, the gesture melting me. No one has ever taken care of me. He does it so selflessly, so instinctively, as if he can’t help himself. I fear for this heart of mine that’s been longing for more ever since I can remember, while I’ve successfully ignored it until Enzo barged into my life.

Maybe he’s right, and this is fate. Then why would it be so cruel to bring him across my path in the first place? Haven’t I dealt with enough loss?

As we leave the restaurant behind, I curl my arm around his, letting him lead me and not for the first time tonight—something I thought I’d never allow a man to do, but with him I love that I can let go. He has me, and I know I am safe. Nothing can touch me.

Sadness crashes over me at the thought that this will soon come to an end. All I’ll be left with is desolation, replaying the memories of my time with him in a hellish loop of regret and unfulfilled wishes.

Even though it’s a short walk to the limo, a shiver runs down my body. The chill of the night awakens goose bumps, not the sensual kind. He stops and shimmies out of his suit jacket, placing it over my shoulders, shrouding me in his delicious heat and scent.

He takes my hand, interlinking our fingers. I hold on to him with all my might as if once I let go, he will slip away, and I’ll be left alone with no one truly understanding me—cursed once again to live a solitary life consisting of hits and making sure Augustus’s power flourishes.

I glance at the garden, and he looks at my feet, then back at my face.

“Those could be considered weapons.”

“They’re pretty.” Heels are not known to be comfortable or practical.