Page 100 of Steal My Heart

Nola ignores me as we stroll around the property, me being hyper vigilant in avoiding any body of water.

“But that isn’t an excuse, and I’m sorry,” I tell her. “Now, could you please stop breaking things? Corinne is getting pissy, and there are only so many places I can hide priceless broken vases. ‘Vases’ or is it pronounced ‘vahzes?’ I’m not sure.”

She doesn’t comment.

“You know who would know? Laurie, the Queen of Carnival.” Curious after Angelo told me there was a queen, I looked it up online, and lo and behold, it’s the turkey trotting queen herself. “This has been fun—most of it, except for the waterboarding—but we need to keep one foot out the door.” My poor little heart can’t seem to match my bravado, but fake it till you make it, I always say. Actually, I’ve never said that phrase my entire life, but it’s something I probably should say….

Nolameows.

“Oh, now you’re speaking to me?”

We return inside and to the guest room, to find it empty. There’s a note on the bed, and I pick up the now familiar stationery.

Your things have been moved to our room.

“That heavy hand again.” I march to Angelo’s room, opening the door to find another note on the bed, along with a dress and heels, a masquerade mask, and a single red carnation.

Remi,

Join me this evening for dinner in the courtyard. So there is no room for misunderstanding, this is a date.

~ Angelo

“See, this is exactly my point. He keeps doing swoony things like this! Is swoony even a word? Well, it is now!”

Nola hops on the bed, watching me pace.

“Well, of course I’m going.” I sigh, grabbing the dress.

Because I can’t seem to stop myself from getting my heart broken.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Angelo

Remi steps out of the house, and like the first time I saw her at the charity gala, it feels like time is standing still.

There’s that four-letter word again.

“You look pained.” Remi cocks her head.

“Not pained; taken aback,” I tell her honestly. “You seem to have that effect on me.”

“I’m sorry, or you’re welcome. I’m not sure which,” she teases.

“Neither am I.” Grabbing my camera, I snap her photo.

“I didn’t realize the paparazzi were going to be here.” She playfully covers her face. “You know I only like photos taken from my good side.”

“You don’t have a bad side,” I assure her.

“You’ve been on it. A few times now,” she informs me.

My lips quirk as I place my camera on the table. I take Remi’s hand, leading her to the checkerboard dance floor. “Dance with me.”

“Pulling out all the stops,” she muses.

“Our first dance was interrupted. I thought a redo was in order.” I spin her around, bringing her body flush with mine.