Page 37 of He Should Be Mine

Dario grimaces. “To apologize to the Don.”

“Why? What did you do?”

“I ran out on the dinner he was hosting, to drag your ass out of a gay bar.”

It takes a moment to register. Then it hits me like a sledgehammer. My hands fly up to cover my mouth, but they can’t catch my loud gasp of absolute horror.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! You should have just left me!”

Dario looks at me. His gaze flicks over my hands and my wide eyes. The corner of his eyes crinkle. He flashes me a wry smile.

“I couldn’t do that,” he says softly.

“Why not!” I shriek.

He very much could have done that. He could have left me in the bar to sort out my own mess. It would have been no less than what I deserved.

“Because you called.”

A wave of dizziness washes over me. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I’m trapped sitting here on the sofa, ass aching from another man, while I stare helplessly into Dario’s eyes. I’m as caught and transfixed as a rabbit in headlights.

But I have to be mistaken. He can’t mean anything by what he just said. Something has simply been lost in translation.

With a great deal of effort, I rouse myself. “Go! Go make a fantastic, groveling apology! Bring him flowers!”

Dario smiles, eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’m not giving my Don roses.”

I throw my hands up in the air. “Something manly then! Cigars! A tool set. Front row seats to watch other grown men chase a ball!”

He laughs as he gets to his feet. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

“Thank you!” I say proudly, feeling vindicated. I’m not a complete idiot. Well, not all of the time.

Dario looks down at me. His expression is soft, almost tender. I’m still drowning helplessly in his gaze. I’m looking up at him as if he is my benediction.

“Can you please behave this time?” It’s almost a whisper.

My mouth has suddenly gone dry. “Since you asked so nicely, sure.”

He nods as if despite everything, and with absolutely no reason to, he trusts me. I watch him leave. I stare after him even when I can’t see him anymore. I hear the jingle of his keys as he picks them up. Then the door opens and shuts.

Dario has gone. I am alone.

I pick up the TV remote. One thing is for sure. I’m going to behave so hard. I’m going to behave more than anyone has ever behaved in the history of the universe. I’m not even going to move from this sofa.

If behaving was an Olympic sport, today I’m getting gold.

Footsteps in the hallway startle me awake. I’m sprawled on the sofa, mouth open. I was probably snoring.

I jump to my feet just as Dario walks into the living area. I run to him, and skid to a halt inches in front of him. For fuck’s sake, I nearly threw myself at the poor man. Thank heavens I came to my senses just in time.

“How did it go?” I ask, as I try to compose myself.

There is a disappointed look in Dario’s eyes, almost as if he wanted me to jump into his arms. It must just be a trick of the light.

“Better than expected,” he says with a slight hitch to his voice, as if he is also trying to compose himself. “The cigars were a hit.”

“I told you!” I shout victoriously.