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He takes my hand, and I barely have time to grab my bag before we’re heading out of the office.
“I like it,” he says, winking at me before turning to the other employees. “Everyone can take the day off!”
Murmurs explode around the office, faces frozen in shock as I look around.
“Will we still get paid?” Samantha asks, a hopeful glee in her eyes.
I chuckle, and Vicente gives me a pointed look, but I smile instead of feeling reprimanded. I’m starting to get to know him.
“Yes, Ms. Smith. Of course you’ll still get paid. Enjoy your day.”
Once we’re in the elevator, cheers ofhurrahandyesescan be heard in the distance.
“I think you made their day,” I quip, glancing sideways at him.
His lips curl into a slow grin. “I hope you make mine.”
Has he always been this flirty? Or is he just ramping up his charm to get what he wants from me?
Heat rises up my neck, and I look away, pretending I didn’t hear the teasing lilt in his voice.
Deep down, I know I need answers—not just about him, but about myself.
Can I do this?
Chapter 17
Vicente Godoy
Ihave no fucking clue where I’m taking Camila. All I know is that being with her feels magnetic—a pull that draws me to her with the strength of a thousand bulls.
“I want to spend time alone with you, Camila,” I admit. “So my first thought was to take you to my house, but I don’t want to give you the wrong idea. I honestly just want to answer all of your questions. What do you think?”
I’m an idiot when talking about relationships.
She takes her time thinking, avoiding direct eye contact.
Did I fuck it up already?
“Yes, you’re right,” she says eventually. “If you’d have invited me over to your house it would’ve sent the wrong message. I wouldn’t be comfortable in your place asking you questions.”
I nod, silently hoping she’ll tell me where she wants to go instead. I’ve been out of the game for too long. I have no idea where to take a woman on a date at nine in the morning. Do dates at the crack of dawn even exist?.
“Are you hungry?” she asks.
I nod again.What the fuck is wrong with me?When did I become a neanderthal who only nods?
“Do you mind if we go to Camden Market?” she asks, hope in her gaze.
“No, not at all,” I answer, and she sighs in relief, her body visibly relaxing.
“Great. They have the best arepas in all of London,” she says, excitedly.
“I’ve never had arepas before.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “What? We need to fix that. Stat.”
I chuckle at her sudden burst of outrage, and we make our way to my car. It’s not lost on me how despite being nervous, she hasn’t let my hand go, like she’s holding onto something steady—onto me.