I’m lying in bed next to my angel. Dio mio, she’s perfect. After last night, I can’t stop thinking about her—about us. I want to marry her. I want to make her scream my name every night until it’s the only word she remembers.
I know she’s worried about today. She mentioned it last night, but I distracted her. I don’t want her to be afraid of showing me who she really is. If anything, it’ll turn me on even more. Watching her work the clubs last night—confident, commanding—she knows how to handle business. Now I want to see her handle real business. I want to see if she can handle me.
We’ve got two hours before we need to leave, but I don’t want to wake her.
“Bambina, it’s time to get up,” I whisper, brushing my fingers across her cheek.
“I don’t want to. Can’t we stay here?” she murmurs
