Page 27

Scarlett

Peace, at last.

“Tell me everything about him, please! I’m dying to know.” She knows I hate when she chews with her mouth open, but here she is, shoveling forkfuls of steak and mashed potatoes through her lips after every sentence.

I thought dinner at Andy’s Diner would make a nice gesture to show her we can still spend quality time together without me going to Eden.

I can’t tell her everything. For one, I barely know much myself. And two, the biggest thing I do know about him is that Skylar beat the shit out of him last week, and he hasn’t shown his face around here since.

Neither of them have.

Dario still texts me, sure. He was absurdly understanding about the ‘miscommunication,’ insisting that a little scuffle over a woman’s honor is nothing to shy from. He may not blame Skylar for his behavior, but I do. Everything he did that night was completely unacceptable, and the bastard has been smart enough to heed my warning.

I haven’t heard a single word from him .

“I don’t know much about him, Pen. We’re still in the talking stage, and it’s kind of nice,” I explain. “Eden was fun and all, but I think it put me in a position where I now see the beauty in just dating someone before jumping right into sex.”

Not that I’ve even had the chance. I pull out my phone to check our texts, a smile curling into my cheeks when I see his latest message.

Turning the screen towards Penelope, I say, “See for yourself. Mama’s got a hot date tomorrow night.”

She smiles brightly, but she’s not looking at me or the phone. “A hot date?” a voice sounds from over my shoulder. “I hope you are talking about me.”

Jumping from my seat, I turn to find Dario crouching down to scoot into the booth beside me. “Hey! What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting to see you until tomorrow.”

I flash him a wide smile and he returns it, staring at my teeth in a way that would probably make me feel self-conscious, had I not become so used to men staring at my mouth lately.

“Me? I was running errands in town, walking to my macchina when I saw you in the window. But now that I have heard your laugh, diavolina, you cannot get rid of me.”

Fine by me.

Penelope plants her elbows on the table with her fingers locked together under her chin. “So, are you two lovebirds doing anything for Valentine’s Day?”

Is this crazy bitch trying to scare him off?

“Pen— ”

“Well?” Dario cuts in. “What do you say, belezza ?” He turns to look at me, brushing the side of my cheek with his knuckles. His face still bears remnants of the bruises Skylar left there, and the cut on his brow hasn’t fully healed. It doesn’t matter though; he’s still beautiful.

I shouldn’t have spoken too soon about being excited to date, because honestly, I’m not fully convinced I’m ready for that. Especially a date on Valentine’s Day with a man I just met at a bar, a week ago.

“Let’s see how tomorrow goes. There’s still time to scare you off,” I say lightly, but the weight behind my words is heavy on my heart.

If I’ve learned anything in the past few months, it’s that my life and the people around me are too unpredictable to expect a simple plan to go smoothly.

Dario looks at me like he’s bewitched, and I may not know him, but I do know what infatuation looks like. I’ve worn it enough on my own sleeve to know exactly what it means, and the things you’ll do just to have some of it returned to you. I don’t have it in me to disappoint him.

Alright, I may have spoken too soon.

Dario is a complete gentleman, totally worthy of my infatuation. He’s pulled out all the stops for this date—the whole kit and kaboodle.

Not only did he start the date by bringing me a bouquet of flowers, but he’s been opening every door for me, offering me his arm whenever we’ve had to walk more than a few feet to our next destination, and just draped his jacket over my shoulders because he noticed I was shivering.

I’ve learned that he’s only in town until the end of the year while he does marketing research for some company that deals in men’s apparel—suits and whatnot—though I find it difficult to catch all the details when his accent leaves me hanging off the edge of every word he says .

I did gather that his family lives back in Italy where he has two brothers, four cats, and a gorgeous villa near the coast. He likes to spend his free time reading, visiting museums, and experiencing all that American cuisine has to offer.

“So,” he starts, pulling on my hand to lower me onto the bench next to him. We had been walking through a park near campus, and decided to stop for a second to rest and take in the gorgeous scenery surrounding the main fountain that sits in the middle of the park. “Tell me about your dreams, tesoro. What makes you breathe, what makes your heart sing?”

The steady eye contact makes me uncomfortable, so I look down at my hands and pick at my cuticles. “Art. That’s my passion.” I glance up at him with a smile before returning to my fingers, fiddling nervously. “I’m actually apprenticing to become a tattoo artist. I think self-expression is one of the most important freedoms we have, and tattoos are such an aesthetically pleasing way to show the outside world who we really are on the inside.”

“I like that. I do not have any myself, but I might hope to one day,” he says. “Would you tattoo me?”

I look at him dumbfoundedly, my mouth hanging open in shock. “Really? You know I’m only a beginner, I’m not very good. But I could introduce you to—”

“No, diavolina. Only you.” Dario leans in, his face so close to mine that meeting his stare is unavoidable. “I want to see your passion. I want to see your heart sing.”

Well fuck.

We meet in the middle, the distance quickly closed as he wraps his fingers around the nape of my neck, pulling me in while his thumb strokes the edge of my jaw. The kiss is soft and sweet—not what I’m used to, but welcome.

The problem comes when I try to deepen our embrace, growing hungry for something more. He follows my lead at first, opening for me when I shove my tongue in his mouth, but he quickly closes the kiss and grips me by the shoulders to push away .

“Easy, amorina .” Dario titters, but when he sees the pain of rejection on my face, he clarifies. “I just mean…” After looking around us, he nods his head to the pathway near the fountain. “We have company. I would rather keep you to myself.” Sure enough, a couple circles around and struts toward us.

Now I just feel like an idiot. I don’t mean to let it, but a tear escapes and trails down my cheek. I’m able to swipe it away before he notices, but I still feel shameful. I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t do dating. My brain has been hardwired to jump straight for sex, and I’m about to embarrass myself because I don’t know how to separate the two anymore.

“Scarlett.” My name sounds so sweet coming from his lips, but I can’t look at him. When I don’t answer, he tries another tactic, grabbing my chin to turn my face. “ Diavolina , come. I believe you owe me for last week, no?”

I know he must see my watery eyes, and even if he doesn’t fully understand what’s happening in my head, he clearly thinks this is what I want. I can’t help but smile in response.

He’s not wrong, but I don’t want to fuck anything up.

Regardless, I take his arm when he lifts me from the park bench and leads me to the car, tucking my hand into the nook of his extended elbow as we leave the park.

The drive home is quiet, but my mind is booming with excitement. Dario has his hand sitting on the top of my thigh, his thumb rubbing my skin so tenderly that the sensation shoots straight to my clit. I shuffle my hips to find a more comfortable position and relieve some of the pressure between my legs, but when I separate them an inch, his hand slides up my thigh. I toss my head back against the seat, so thrown off by the sudden movement that it steals my breath.

“Dario—”

“Shh. Open for me, bellezza . Let me feel you.”

Well, okay then. I thought I was over being ordered around, but I guess not. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched, I’ll take anything .

Doing as he said, I spread my legs as wide as my seat will allow me to, glancing down to track the movement of his hand. It rises higher up my thigh before reaching the waistband of my leggings, then slides inside and disappears from sight.

He takes his time exploring my pussy, dipping low enough to coat his fingers in the proof of my arousal before bringing them up to tease my clit. He works in slow, controlled movements that steadily bring me to the verge of an explosion, but before I can tip myself over the edge, the car comes to a full stop.

So does he.

I let out an audible sigh of frustration, but he just laughs at me. Removing his hand from between my legs, he steals any hope for my climax. Dario parks the car and turns to me, bringing his fingers to the contour of his lips before slipping them inside. He makes a big show of sucking them clean of me, but I’m not turned on by it.

I’m pissed.

Do I have a large sign plastered to my forehead that says, ‘please edge me, I fucking love it’? I didn’t think so. So why does every man who touches me think it’s an acceptable thing to do?

“Was that fun for you?” I snap, making no attempt to hide the immature scowl on my face.

“ Sì .”

He offers nothing more—just one word and a smile so evil, it makes me sick.

He’s just another one of them .

“Perfect. Thanks for your time, asshole.” I practically throw myself from the car, slamming the door shut as I march down the pavement and up the porch steps.

I can’t get my fucking key to fit inside the lock because I’m crying so hard, and it’s only made worse when I hear Dario approach my backside .

“Get away from me,” I bite out. He doesn’t say a word, allowing me the courtesy to cross the threshold before following behind. I spin on my heel, ready to break his nose if he comes any closer. “What the fuck do you want?”

This arrogant prick takes a step anyway, thrusting his hand against the door before I can shut it in his face. “You have been too sweet. You promised to show me my diavolina …” With every step he takes forward, I match him in the opposite direction. He creeps nearer, eyes glued to my mouth as he swings the door shut with a soft click. “Now here she is.”

It’s true; I did imply there was something worth experiencing if he came home with me. It’s the whole reason we ended up in that predicament with Skylar last week. But I don’t want to think about him anymore. Dario is here—healthy, horny, and waiting for me to show him who I really am. Penelope’s away at Eden’s Deliverance, so we’re completely alone.

“So what are you waiting for?” I taunt, planting my hands on my hips. I didn’t care much for the edge-sesh back there, so now it’s his turn to make things up to me. I’ll keep my end of the bargain later.

The malicious grin from the car makes a reappearance, spreading wide across his lips as he stomps toward me. I brace for impact, partially shocked when he ducks down to wrap an arm around the back of my knees before lifting me over his shoulder.

An involuntary squeal turns into a giggle fit as he carries me upstairs to my room with the help of some clumsy guidance. We land together on the bed and rip at each other’s clothing, peeling off as many layers as possible in record time. When I reach for the buttons on his shirt, he grabs my wrists and pushes them to the mattress on either side of my head, keeping me held there while he kisses me.

I’m into it for a second—but just a second—before I grow frustrated. I refuse to fuck another man who won’t let me see their body. I’m not going to be the only one on display.

Luckily, he isn’t holding me prisoner and lets me reach for his shirt again, moving his attention to my neck as I undo the buttons. My god, I can feel the muscles on his abdomen before I’ve got the fabric separated. With my palms laid flat on his chest, I push him back until he’s kneeling before me.

Taking in the full sight of him, I make note of his tan skin, washboard abs trailing down to a patch of hair above his groin, his nose, the dark coils sprouting from his head, and the way they fall against his brow.

It all feels too familiar, and I can’t shake this one thought I keep having.

All he’s missing is a white mask.