by T. K. Leigh
“Say the words. This only works as long as I know you’re on board.”
“Yes, Dante,” I exhaled.
When the elevator slowed to a stop, he abruptly released his hold on me, stepping away. “Good.” The doors opened and he held his arm out to me.
I drew in a deep breath, trying to steady myself, my legs weak. My brain raced with thoughts of what awaited me tonight. All I knew was I no longer felt nervous about the prospect of being seen with Dante Luciano at an award show that millions of people would be watching on their televisions. I was alive with anticipation about what he had in store for me over the course of the evening.
When I remained motionless, he narrowed his eyes at me, his expression borderline severe. It shot a pang straight to my core, causing my pulse to race even faster. I loved the harshness and brutality I saw. I knew I shouldn’t, that it was wrong…but was it? The more time I spent with Dante, the more I saw the respect and admiration he had for me, the more I knew nothing about this was wrong. We were two consenting adults engaging in a delicious game of foreplay. And Dante loved foreplay.
Snapping back to the present, I put one foot in front of the other, slowly swaying my hips. I passed Dante a coquettish look as I hooked my arm in his.
“Good, passerotta.”
I cocked my head at him. “Passerotta? What does that mean?”
“‘Little sparrow.’ Because, tonight, you’re going to soar, amore mio.” He placed an affectionate kiss on my forehead, then faced forward, smiling at all the people gawking at us as we made our way through the lobby of the Beverly Wilshire. Some bystanders pulled their cell phones out to take our photo, and my confidence began to waver a bit. Was it really necessary to put on a show just to piss off my mother?
“Hold your head high, passerotta. You are a beautiful, fearless woman,” he murmured, noticing my hesitation. He grabbed my hand that was hooked in his elbow. “Let the world see what I see. Let your parents see what I see. Let me help you break those chains and set you free.”
His encouragement was all I needed. I allowed a small smile to cross my face. But it wasn’t one of the fake smiles my mother taught me to wear — not too bright, not too glum, just enough to give off the impression of being interested. This smile was real, vibrant, unwavering. Because I’d finally found something I never thought was possible…happiness.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, running a careful finger down the curve of my face. Grabbing my chin, he tilted my head back. “I’m going to kiss you now. And you’re going to kiss me back as if it were the last time you’d ever kiss me. As if dozens of people weren’t watching and snapping our photo. As if it were just us. Because when I’m with you, that’s all I see, all I think about. I want that from you. Okay, passerotta?”
Licking my lips, I nodded. “Yes, Dante.”
“Good girl.”
His mouth slowly descended toward mine, my heart rate spiking with each drawn-out second as I waited to be kissed by this beautiful, passionate, enthralling man. I didn’t know if it was the anticipation of feeling his lips brush against mine, the tingle that spread through my body when he pulled me firmly against him, or the way his deep baritone said those two words to me. I felt like a ball of clay, and he an artist, molding me into a masterpiece worthy of being admired and revered.
When his lips finally landed on mine, I let out a moan of satisfaction, curving my body into his as I hooked my arms around his neck. He leaned into me, running his tongue across my lips, requesting entry. I couldn’t deny him even if I wanted to. I opened for him, his tongue caressing mine, his kiss erasing every last hint of reluctance I had.
His hand traveled down the length of my body, settling briefly on my hip before continuing its journey, landing on my ass. I jumped when he squeezed, instinctively attempting to squirm away. It only made him squeeze harder, hold me tighter, kiss me more passionately. I gave up the fight and matched his eagerness, kissing him like he wanted, like we were all alone.
Seemingly satisfied, he gradually pulled back. My eyes remained locked on his. Any other time, I would have lowered my gaze, embarrassed I’d just done something so intimate with dozens of people watching. I’d been raised to believe certain things should remain private, that respectable people didn’t kiss in public, at least not the way Dante had just kissed me — consuming me, marking me, telling everyone here that I was his, and he mine. I no longer found any merit to the things my mother had ingrained in my head about how civilized ladies should act. I loved the man peering down at me. Why wouldn’t I want the world to see that love?
“Shall we?” he asked, lifting a brow.
“Yes.”
He beamed, returning his hand to my lower back as he led me out of the lobby and into a waiting limousine. For the first time in my life, I didn’t blush as I passed all the people who just bore witness to our moment of passion. I held my head high, swaying my hips, wrapped in the warmth of Dante’s love and devotion. If this was just the beginning, I couldn’t wait to see what the rest of the evening had in store.
CHAPTER SIX
A LONG LINE OF limousines snaked off the 110, down Flowers Street, slowly heading over to Figueroa to be waved into the secured area by the theater where tonight’s event was being held. As I sat beside Dante in one of those limos, my imagination ran wild with who could be in front of or behind us. I’d been so caught up in the whirlwind of finally being with Dante again, I didn’t even pause to consider I’d be surrounded by celebrities. I prayed I didn’t make a complete fool of myself if I came face-to-face with one of my favorite actors.
“Doing okay?” Dante squeezed my hand in his, forcing my attention away from the window and back to him.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” I gave him a sly grin. “You’re the one nominated for an award.”
“That doesn’t matter to me.”
“Why not?” I tilted my head at him.
“I don’t do what I do for recognition,” he answered, as if it were obvious. “I do what I do because I enjoy it. I love traveling and experiencing new food, new cultures, new people. It makes me more forgiving and compassionate, I think. Being able to share my journey with other people in the hopes they learn something from the people I’ve met and places I’ve been… That’s what makes my job rewarding. Not the accolades and commendations, but the thought that maybe I’ve opened someone’s eyes just a little bit.”
“That’s probably why you’ve won the past four years. Because you’re humble. Because you’d do what you do even if no one watched your show.”
He chuckled, his lips slowly curving up at the corners. “I don’t know about that. I’m pretty sure the network would have canceled me a long time ago if that were the case.”
“True.” I glanced out the window as the convention center came into view, then looked back at Dante. “Do you have a speech written?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“I’ve never written a speech. I guess I’m a bit superstitious. The first time I was nominated, I didn’t want to ruin my chances by being too sure of myself. And I won. So, every year, I don’t write a speech.” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, revealing a cocktail napkin with a list of names on it, mine at the top. “But I do bring a list of people I want to thank, in order of importance, in case I do win.” He winked.
“Order of importance?” My forehead winkled as I considered his words, staring at his barely legible scrawl on the worn napkin. “My name’s on top.”
“Because you’re the most important person in my life.”
I opened my mouth to respond, then snapped it shut, hesitating.
“What is it?” Dante pushed.
“Nothing,” I replied quickly.
“Eleanor.” He grabbed my chin, forcing my eyes to his. He narrowed his gaze, his expression challenging me. “Remember our deal earlier.” He leaned toward me, feathering his lips against my cheek, the tiniest hint of a charge rushing through me. “You do as
I say tonight and you’ll be rewarded. Unless you don’t want to play anymore.” He cocked a brow.
I vehemently shook my head. “No. I do.”
“Then tell me what you were going to say.”
I sucked in a breath. “When did you write this list?” I shifted my gaze back to the napkin in his hand. It looked as if it had been in his pocket for weeks, maybe months.
“When my show was nominated,” he answered in a very matter-of-fact tone.
“Which was when?”
“Mid-July.”
“Mid-July?” I shook my head. “But…”
“But what?
“That was only a few weeks after I walked away from you, just a few weeks after we met.”
“And like I told you the day we said goodbye… I will always love you. No matter what. You’re an important part of my life.”
“Isn’t it too soon? Too fast? Even now?” I paused, then added, “Don’t get me wrong. I’m flattered to be on your list, but at the top?”
“Eleanor.” He licked his lips, gathering his thoughts. “I need you to understand something about me. Something you probably already know, but it bears mentioning. I’m not like everyone else in your life. When I feel something, I say it. After everything I’ve been through, after losing Lilly, then Ali, I vowed to always tell someone how I felt about them. If you wait, you may never get the chance.” His voice wavered, his composure cracking momentarily.
“I would have given anything to have the chance to tell Lilly I loved her one more time.” He swallowed hard. “I have a chance with you. I will always tell you how I feel. How much I love you. How important you are to me. It doesn’t matter if you return those feelings. I’m not saying it to earn a favor or hope to gain something from it, as you’re accustomed to. I’m saying it because it’s the truth. It makes me wild with rage to think your parents made you believe no one could love you without an ulterior motive, that no one would ever simply just love you for you. Because I do. And I always will. Never question my loyalty or devotion to you. I promise never to give you a reason to doubt me. Just lower your guard and let me love you. Bene?”
Speechless, I stared at him, my lips parting as I struggled to come up with an adequate response. How could I possibly say anything meaningful to that, to this man who poured his heart out to me with no hint of hesitation. Instead, I simply replied, “Bene.”
“Bene,” he said once more, clutching my hand in his as Bradley stepped out from behind the wheel. I whipped my head to the window, seeing we were at the end of our line, all the limos in front of us having dropped off their passengers. Now, it was our turn, our time to shine.
The door opened and Bradley stoically held his hand out to help me from the limo, although I sensed a bit of reluctance on his part. Careful not to get my heel caught on the hem of my gown, I emerged into the bright California sun, pulling my shawl closer to fight against the slight chill in the September air. I remained motionless for a moment, mesmerized by the frenzy surrounding me. I recalled the many times I lounged on the couch with Mila as her eyes were glued to the television during these specials. Never did I think I’d be walking that same red carpet with a nominee.
A hand fell on my hip and I looked to my left, Dante standing by my side. “Are you ready?”
“I suppose,” I answered, trying to mask my nerves.
He tilted my chin back, forcing my eyes to his. “I won’t leave your side. I promise. It’s my job to take care of you.”
“I’m not some meek little thing in need of protection, Dante,” I reminded him.
“I am more than aware of that fact. But tonight, I want to take care of you. I don’t want you to have to worry about a single thing. I want you to be able to stop thinking and just enjoy life for a few hours. Okay?” He stared at me, the devotion in his dark pools all-consuming.
“Okay,” I squeaked out.
“Bene.” He pulled back. “Andiamo.” He steered me through the media circus, bright lights competing with the luster of the sunshine on this perfect afternoon.
Once we were allowed access to the red carpet, I stared in awe at the atmosphere. I couldn’t help the smile that built on my lips as I remained on Dante’s arm, soaking it all in. It looked just like it did on TV. Stars wore perfectly tailored tuxedos and designer gowns, some of them stretching the envelope. I may have been a bit biased, but Dante was the best-looking man here. He had a sort of rugged appeal. He’d shaven, which made him appear a few years younger than he was, but his hair still had a disheveled quality to it. What made him more attractive was the way he looked at me, even here, surrounded by Hollywood’s elite. He had a way of making me feel like the most beautiful person in the room, and tonight was no different.
Noticing my eyes surveying the lines of his face, he smirked, leaning down to feather his lips against my temple. “What are you thinking, passerotta?”
We stopped walking and I met his fiery gaze. “Sembri molto carino,” I answered, practicing some of the Italian I’d taught myself over the past few months, telling him how handsome he looked.
“Sei così bella, amore mio. Tu sei l’unica donna che vedo.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, my cheeks flushing as I listened to Dante murmur Italian in my ear. There was something so seductive about the sound. He could have been discussing something as mundane as taking the garbage out, but the tone of his voice made my toes curl, the hair on my arms stand on end.
“That you’re beautiful, that you’re the only woman I see.”
I sighed at his words. He’d told me this exact thing on numerous occasions, even as recently as the past few hours, but I still wasn’t tired of hearing it.
“Now, shall we go make all the reporters and photographers wonder who this beautiful treasure is on my arm?”
I grinned, stepping out of my shell. “Let’s give them something to talk about.”
“That’s my girl.”
He gripped my hip, leading me through the area, stopping every few feet to pose for the myriad of photographers present. At first, I attempted to step away, thinking they wouldn’t want me in the shot, but Dante kept his firm hold on me, not permitting me to leave his side. It bound another piece of my heart to him.
Just as we were almost clear of the red carpet area, a heavily made-up blonde reporter for one of the entertainment news stations shoved a microphone in his face. “Dante Luciano,” she said, the lilt in her tone making it sound as if they were old friends. Lights shined on both of us, a cameraman inching closer and closer. “Are you feeling confident about adding win number five to your collection?”
“We’ll see,” he answered, a bright smile on his face. This was the Dante Luciano the rest of the world knew. It wasn’t my Dante Luciano. I counted myself truly lucky to know who he was when the cameras stopped rolling and the lights turned off. “A wise woman once said what’s meant to be will be.” He glanced at me. I gave him a small smile, recalling his mother telling me those exact words. Then he looked back at the blonde. “If I’m meant to take home number five, I’m sure it will happen.”
“It’s been a bit of an exciting year for you, hasn’t it? We heard a few rumors about your crew being shot at when you were on location in Beirut.”
My eyes darted to him, my pulse increasing. I hadn’t heard about that. Then again, I hadn’t really gone looking. I knew what he did for a living, what his show was about, but it never dawned on me that he may get hurt…or worse.
“That was just the media blowing it out of proportion,” he answered without missing a beat. “A kid found a gun on the street and thought it was a toy. Our equipment suffered more damage from the few stray bullets than myself or any of the crew.”
“So you’d go back?”
“Without a doubt.”
She smiled a fabricated smile, then her attention shifted to me, her brows furrowing slightly as she tried to figure out who I was.
“And your date this evening?” She looked back at Dante. “Someo
ne from back home?”
“No,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes as he gazed upon me. “She’s an American I had the pleasure of running into this summer when she visited the Eternal City. This is Eleanor Crenshaw.”
“Crenshaw.” She turned her attention back to me, her eyes widening as realization covered her expression. “Of course. The daughter of Senator Crenshaw.” She laughed. “He must have a few choice words about your relationship with Dante Luciano, considering they’re political opposites.”
“Eleanor’s a grown woman who is more than capable of making her own decisions,” he responded before I even had a chance to offer a rebuttal. “But rest assured, you will all be seeing much more of her in the months and years to come.” His lips formed into a tight line before saying, “Have a good evening.” He placed his hand on my lower back and steered me away from the reporter.
I cocked a brow at him once we were clear of the cameras. “Years?”
“Si. Years. If you’ll have me.”
“Dante…”
“Shh.” He hushed me, covering my mouth with his, his kiss full, deep, bewitching. For a moment, all the voices in my head shouting the reasons I shouldn’t get my hopes up about a future with Dante had grown mute. In its place was his deep baritone, murmuring words of affection, urging me to see him and only him, to forget about my past and only think about the present. “I told you. Tonight isn’t about thinking. We’ll do all that later. Tonight is for you to enjoy yourself. Shut your big, beautiful brain off for a few hours and let go.”
“Okay,” I murmured, still breathless from his kiss.
“Good.” He gave me a sly smile, guiding me into the theater that was abuzz with even more activity. Attendees mingled in their gowns and tuxedos, imbibing in champagne under a gilded ceiling and lavish chandelier, my surroundings reminiscent of the heyday of Hollywood.
“Do you need to use the restroom beforehand?” he asked. “I’d recommend it.”
“Actually, yes.”
“This way.” He led me through the lobby, stopping outside the ladies’ room.
