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She smiled, nodding, as the memory came back to her of meeting him. “Of course. Nice to see you again.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“It’s an open bar,” she pointed out. “Besides which, I always buy my own drinks.”

“In that case, you can get me one,” he suggested. “I don’t have your scruples.”

His grin was wide, and a dimple dug into one stubbled cheek. Objectively speaking, he was quite handsome. Tall, with broad shoulders and a strong physique, he wore a suit that looked custom, and an expensive watch. That was par for the courseat this sort of event. The ticket alone was six figures, and the fundraising auctions always raised a huge sum. They were also incredible networking opportunities, meaning they drew the top of the business community.

“What’ll it be?” The bartender arrived, saving her from a reply.

“A French martini,” she answered. “Jock?”

“I’ll have the same.”

She arched a single brow before turning back to the bartender and flashing him a megawatt smile. “Thanks.”

“So,” Jock began, in that time honoured conversation starter. “The literacy foundation, huh?”

Emilia’s gaze slid to his. “That’s right.”

“Special cause for you?”

“Childhood literacy is an important foundation of overall education,” she pointed out. “And also, a good indicator of lifelong success. Raising literacy levels globally is a worthwhile endeavour.”

“Seriously?”

She blinked, a frown pulling at her lips. “You don’t agree?”

“I mean, I guess. I hadn’t really given it much thought.”

She couldn’t keep the disapproval from her features. “Seems like a very expensive way to spend the evening, if you don’t care about the cause.”

“Yeah, but you can’t miss it,” he shrugged.

Emilia’s gaze narrowed. “Why not?”

“Because anyone who’s anyone is here. As evidenced by the fact your family has shown up despite the fact the Santoros are one of the key sponsors.”

She blinked, careful not to reveal a hint of surprise at that. She hadn’t known, though, and she doubted Max had, either, or he would never have wanted to be there. There were plenty of ways to support a charity—another donation for the raffle, likethe one they’d already made, of a luxury stay at one of their hotels, for example.

“Unlike you, the cause is dear to my heart,” she said, grateful then that Jock had ordered the same cocktail as her, because it meant the bartender placed them both on the bar at the same time. She curled her fingers around one.

“Why is that?”

“Oh, it’s a long, boring story, and I have to be getting back to my family now,” she murmured. “It was nice to see you again.”

“I’d love to talk some more later. I’ll swing by your table.”

She kept her expression neutral, as she tucked her clutch under one arm. “Bye, Jock.”

She was aware of the way his gaze drifted lower as she turned to leave, taking in the plunging neckline of her emerald green dress. The cut of the dress left very little to the imagination, and the spaghetti straps exposed her golden tan. The design made it impossible to wear a bra—not that she needed one. Emilia’s figure was athletic, and the breasts she’d always desperately wanted—generous and full—had decided not to oblige. Unlike her mother, who had the figure of a goddess, Emilia had always been slender. Scrawny as a child, lanky as a teen, and now that she was old enough to understand how to dress for her figure, she could pull off most outfits. But there were still times she found herself desperately wishing for soft curves.

Height was another area in which she’d struggled. She was under five and a half feet tall, but she could compensate for that with sky high heels—she rarely didn’t wear a pair, and tonight was no exception. She turned to leave the bar and head back to her table, only for her eyes to land on a very familiar gaze from a little way across the room.

Salvatore stood with his hip nonchalantly against the wall, a hand in his pocket, and his eyes on her as though he couldn’t look away. The charge of heat was unmistakable. It started at thebase of her spine and exploded through her body like the first firework at a festival. Bright and glorious, she couldn’t fail to feel it.

She stopped walking. Or, rather, her feet stopped cooperating, stranding her in the middle of the crowded bar area. Slowly—achingly slowly—his eyes began to drop, as Jock’s had a moment earlier. But where Jock’s inspection had left her cold—and a little pissed off at his presumptuousness—the opposite could be said, now.