Chapter 6

SIX

Sabella

My mom knocks on my door early, telling me I have a visitor. Anticipation sparks in my belly as I jump out of bed. I dress hurriedly, pulling on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. When my mom sticks her head around the doorframe to ask if I'm ready, she gives me a disapproving look and instructs me to wear something more presentable like the red dress she takes from my closet.

"Who's here?" I ask, shimmying into the fitted dress that's overly formal for a Friday morning, too excited to argue about my mom's choice of outfit for me. If she's making me dress up, my visitor must be someone important to my parents, someone with business ties to Dad.

Someone like Angelo.

She hands me my red sandals. "Fix your hair and come down quickly." On her way out, she adds from over her shoulder, "Don't forget to brush your teeth."

My stomach flutters as I take care of my grooming and brush my hair. I apply mascara and lip gloss and give myself a once-over in the mirror before charging to the door.

Wait.

I turn on my heel and hurry to my dresser where I take the bracelet Angelo's family gave me from the drawer and secure it around my wrist.

There. Perfect.

Not two seconds later, I'm rushing down the stairs. I bet Angelo returned to offer an excuse for leaving the party early. He won't go back to Corsica without saying goodbye. Something happened last night. I can't put my finger on what transpired between us, but I'll bet all the money in my bank account he's aware of it too.

I take the turn to the lounge so fast my sandals slip on the tiles, and then I slow my steps. My spirits sink. Colin sits on the sofa, framed by the view of the sea and the brilliant sky at his back. The sunlight crowns his blond head with a silver lining. He's dressed in a striped shirt, beige chinos, and loafers without socks. His blue eyes crinkle in the corners when he sees me.

"Oh, it's you," I say, unable to keep the disappointment from my voice.

He frowns. Usually, I'm ecstatic to see my best friend, especially when he's just returned from a holiday abroad. He must be pondering the sudden change.

My mom, who must've entered short on my heels, clears her throat behind me.

"I'm very happy to see you," I continue quickly, which is the truth. I am always keen to hang out with Colin. He's just not who I was hoping to see today.

He gets to his feet, takes a bouquet of multicolored flowers wrapped in cellophane from the coffee table, and holds it out to me. "Happy birthday, Bella. I'm sorry I couldn't be here for the party. Our flight landed at six this morning."

"That's okay. You don't have to be here for every birthday party." I take the flowers. "Thank you. They're beautiful."

He leans in and kisses my cheek. "You're welcome."

"You shouldn't have rushed over straight away." I hook my hair behind my ear, feeling overdressed and uncomfortable. "You must be tired."

This setup is so awkward. We normally swim or play volleyball on the beach, not meet each other in the formal lounge reserved for important guests with my mom sitting in like a chaperone.

"Are you kidding? Of course I had to come." He winks. "If I didn't need a shower first, I would've woken you up even earlier. Did you get my video message? It's not the same as saying happy birthday in person, but it's the next best thing."

"Yes, thank you. I'm sorry I haven't replied yet. The party finished late."

My mom pokes me in the ribs, which is my cue to turn the conversation to him.

Resisting an urge to glare at her, I ask, "How was New York?"

Of course, he'll tell me all the juicy details later when we're alone, but since my mom isn't showing any signs of leaving, I'm just making polite conversation.

"Freezing. My mom got her New Year on Times Square, but she couldn't last outside for more than ten minutes before we had to head back to the hotel."

"How are they—your parents?" Mom asks. "And your sister? Clara must've had fun."

"Dad enjoyed it less than Mom, seeing that she mostly did shopping and towed him along. Clara caught a cold on the second day. Needless to say, she was miserable."

"Poor dear," Mom says. "I'm sorry to hear that."

He shrugs. "It happens." Reverting his attention to me, he continues, "More importantly, how was the big event?"

As my mom can't see my face, I roll my eyes while saying with enthusiasm, "Great."

A grin stretches his cherub cheeks. Colin is handsome in a blond-and-tanned surfer kind of way, but he hasn't outgrown the baby fat on his face.

"There's cake left over," my mom says. "Would you like a slice? It's from a renowned French baker."

He replies with a brilliant smile. "That sounds great, thank you, Mrs. Edwards."

My mom lifts the receiver of the intercom phone on the wall and dials the kitchen, ordering Doris to serve tea and cake.

"While you're at it, please bring a vase with water," Mom adds before hanging up. Facing me, she rubs her hands together. "Colin has a surprise for you."

I look at him. "You do?"

"Sit," he says, taking the flowers from my hands and leaving them on the table. "It's your birthday gift."

Flopping down on the sofa, I give him an anxious smile. I hate surprises. "I thought the flowers were for my birthday."

"This is your real gift," he says, walking to the grand piano.

Oh, no. I cringe inwardly when he takes a seat on the bench and shakes his fingers to warm them up. Sometimes, he can be such a nerd. He's an all-rounder, good at academics, music, and sport. He's always considerate and friendly. His manners are impeccable. He never loses his cool, and he never says something bad about anybody, not even to side with me when I'm having a tiff with one of the kids in our neighborhood. I'm not sure why his flawless character irritates me so much today. I just wish he'd sometimes be a little less perfect.

He runs his fingers over the notes from C to B or whatever they're called, testing them.

"It hasn't been tuned," my mom says, taking a seat next to me and crossing her legs. "The technician can't come out until next week."

"It's a mighty fine piano, Mrs. Edwards."

She beams. "Thank you."

Diving into a saloon-style version of Happy Birthday, he sings, "Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Bella."

I make a gagging gesture.

He laughs and changes direction, letting his fingers fly over the keys as he launches into a complicated modern piece of music.

While I admire his skill, the music isn't my style. Call me unsophisticated, but I find it awful. I clench my hands in my lap while he loses himself in the music.

It feels like it's gone on forever before the beat slows and he pauses dramatically before hitting the final key. The high note still reverberates in the space when Doris enters with a tray.

Colin shoots me an expectant smile.

My mom claps. "Bravo. That was outstanding, Colin."

I join in the applause, but my effort lacks enthusiasm.

"What is it called?" Mom asks.

"I composed it for Bella," he says. "I haven't titled it yet. Maybe I'll call it Sweet Sixteen."

Doris leaves the tray on the coffee table and straightens. "Bella has another guest."

I jerk my head in her direction, expecting her to tell me my visitor is waiting in the entrance to be invited in, and then I do a double-take. Angelo stands in the doorframe with a huge box in his hands. My stomach lurches as if I'm on a rollercoaster. Blood surges through my body, and heat burns on my cheeks.

Wearing black jeans, a leather jacket, and a dark expression, he looks sinister and angry. The rings on his fingers and the chunky bracelets on his wrists add a bad-boy slash alternative-artsy vibe. I find the male accessories hot, but my mom's upside-down smile as her gaze homes in on his hands says it's too much jewelry for her liking.

He sweeps his gaze over the room, taking in the flowers, my dress, and the fine china reserved for special occasions. When he fixes his attention on Colin, the look in his glacial eyes turns diabolical.

Colin blanches. Who wouldn't under such a stare? That glare promises torture and murder and all the unspeakable horrors of nightmares.

Shifting on the bench, Colin glances between Angelo and me.

"Angelo," Mom says, turning as stiff as cardboard. "We didn't expect you."

He nails her with a piercing look. As if finding the sight boring, he quickly moves on, his next target me. I'm frozen in place, exposed and vulnerable, my secrets spilling out in the color of my cheeks and the breathless gasp that's squeezed from my chest.

Tilting his head, he inspects my features. What he sees amuses him. He quirks an eyebrow. A knowing smile curves his lips.

He knows.

He knows the effect he has on me.

I'm such a damn open book.

"I brought the rest of Sabella's gift," he says in a suave voice, his accent barely detectible.

My mom says through tight lips, "As you can see, Sabella has a guest."

Angelo's tone is dry. "I noticed."

"I'll fetch another cup and slice of cake," Doris says, enjoying the spectacle with a little too much glee. She's never been a big fan of my mom.

My mom's cutting look is lost on her as she leaves the room.

Always following the protocol of good manners, my mom stands and straightens her skirt. "Angelo, this is Colin, Sabella's very special friend. Colin, this is Angelo, a business associate of my husband."

At business associate, Angelo gives my mom a mocking smile. He crosses the floor and puts the box on the table.

Colin stands and rounds the piano. He offers Angelo a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Angelo's long lashes dip as he glances at Colin's palm before gripping it in a handshake that makes Colin wince. "Is it?"

Colin frowns.

Dismissing Colin with an air of disinterest, Angelo addresses me. "I brought some things Pirate may need."

Colin looks between my mom and me. "Pirate?"

"Um, Angelo gave me a cat."

Colin raises a brow. He knows about my mom's aversion to pets and her so-called allergy.

"I thought he may need a bed, toys, and a litter tray." Angelo motions at the box. "There are all kinds of soft and dry food as well as different types of litter. That way, you can test everything to see what he prefers."

"Wow. Thank you." I smile at him. "That's so thoughtful. I was going to beg my sister to drive me to the pet shop to buy all of that."

"Colin wrote a ballade for Sabella's birthday," Mom says. "Would you like to hear it?"

"I heard it." Angelo's smile is flat. "I think all your neighbors did. I hope they have earplugs."

A choking sound slips through Mom's lips.

Colin simultaneously frowns and smiles as if to say, What the fuck is your problem?

"I have to be on my way. Our flight leaves in a few hours." Angelo offers me his arm. "Will you walk me out, cara?"

Even though it was a question, he phrased it like an order.

I stand on shaky legs, place my hand on his forearm, and mumble, "Excuse me," in Colin's direction as Angelo walks me out.

"What about your tea?" Doris asks when we pass her in the foyer. She's carrying a tray laid with a cup and a plated slice of cake.

"Another time," he says, inclining his head and leading me outside.

On the front patio, he steers me to the swing bench in the corner and lowers his arm. I don't have a choice but to remove my hand. Watching me with cunning attention, he leans a shoulder on the wall and takes a joint from his pocket.

"Is that a habit?" I ask.

"It helps to relax me when business is tense." He scrutinizes me. "You don't like it."

"I hate the smell of tobacco smoke. It has a way of clinging to a person's hair and clothes and leaving a horrible stale smell in a room." I wrinkle my nose. "Not to mention cigarette breath."

He breaks the joint in half and shoves the pieces back into his pocket.

Something warm spreads through my chest, knowing he did that just because I hate the smell of smoke.

Silence stretches as he continues to study me with a penetrating stare.

"What?" I say when I can't stand it any longer.

He grips the chain around my neck, fingering the sea turtle pendant. "Did he give this to you?"

"Who, Colin? No. It was a gift from my dad."

He drops the chain. "Is he your boyfriend?"

"No," I exclaim, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. "Colin is my neighbor and my best friend. We grew up together. He's like a brother to me." I push a finger on his chest. "Which is why you can't treat him like that."

"Like what?" he drawls.

"As if he's your enemy. I saw how you shook his hand."

"You want me to go easy on him?" he asks with a chuckle.

"I want you to be polite. You can't be rude to my friends."

He drags his gaze over me. "Is that how you dress up for all your friends?"

I cross my arms. "The dress was my mom's idea, not that what I choose to wear is any of your business."

He rubs a thumb over his bottom lip as he considers my answer. After a beat, his lips curve into an indulgent smile. "It seems like your mother has a different idea about your brotherly friend."

"Okay, I'll admit that was awkward."

He scrutinizes me. "Does your mother always play matchmaker?"

Mom can be infuriating at times, but I'm not going to let him judge her. "She means well."

"I'm sure Colin will agree."

"I can assure you that Colin was just as uncomfortable as me."

"You've never had the tiniest attraction to him, not even when you played house when you were young?"

I pull my back straight. "We didn't play house. Why is this starting to sound like an interrogation? I don't care much for being questioned like this."

"You've never kissed him?" he asks, his tone incredulous.

The fact that he doubts my honesty makes me angry. "Like what I wear, that's also none of your business."

He raises a thick, dark eyebrow. "Isn't it?"

The meaning behind that statement sends a shiver of anticipation through me, but I won't let him bully me. "Is this conversation going somewhere, or are you just being rude?"

He steps so close that the heat of his skin is like a warm mist around me. "Yes, this is going somewhere, but you already know that." He adds with a wicked glint in his eyes, "Despite what your mother and father may say."

My heart starts galloping in my chest. His masculinity is overwhelming. I'm no match for the power he exudes or for the experience that comes with his age, but I can't bring myself to care.

"Now, tell me, cara," he says in a soft voice, leaning closer. "Is it sweet sixteen and never been kissed, or has that card been claimed?"

Annoyingly, the heat burning on my cheeks gives me away again. I hate that he knows how inexperienced I am.

Satisfaction bleeds with something darker into his black eyes. "Good. Keep it like that. Your first kiss is mine."

Awareness of him, his smell, and how tall and strong he is washes over me. Goosebumps run down my arms.

He leans closer still and continues in a possessive tone. "All your firsts are mine."

With those words, he invades my spaces, my dreams, and my hopes, and builds an indestructible nest for himself in my future.

My pulse pounds in my temples. Angelo Russo wants my first kiss. And more. So much more.

He fixes his gaze on the bracelet on my wrist. The approval that sparks in his eyes warms me. I have an inexplicable urge to please him. My parents have always showered me with love and acceptance. I'm not starved for approval, but I crave his. No one's appreciation matters as much as his. Until yesterday, my dad was my hero. My everything. Somewhere between then and now, Angelo has challenged that first place my dad held in my heart.

Urgency infuses his words. "Tell me you understand. Make a promise. To me. Now."

"A promise?" His sudden intensity scares me. It pushes my newly empowered heart into the background and allows my logical reasoning to take center stage again. "You're going back to Corsica in a few hours."

"I'll always come back for you. Remember that. No matter what anyone says."

He's so serious now, so overbearing, that I can't help but take a step back to breathe, to focus. To put distance between us.

This isn't how relationships develop. This isn't a guy asking me out on a date. He's skipping everything in between, jumping straight to what sounds an awful lot like a serious commitment.

"I don't understand what you're asking from me," I say, my throat tight as I stare up at his beautiful face.

His gaze drills into mine. "I'm asking you to be patient. To wait."

"We only met yesterday."

"When we met doesn't matter." He holds out his hand. "Give me your phone."

"I don't have it on me. It's in my room."

"Give me your number."

My mom pops her head around the front door. "Sabella, your guest is waiting, and your father is on the phone. He wants a word with you."

"I'm coming," I call. "I'm just saying goodbye."

Mom purses her lips but goes back inside.

"Give me your number, Sabella," Angelo says.

Not, will you please give me your number? No. He's demanding it like it's his right to have it.

A calculated look comes over his face. "I can get it easily enough, but it'll be sweeter if you give it to me."

The part of me that doesn't like to be told what to do wants to resist, but another part of me, the part that needs to please him, wants to do as he demands. Do I want to? There's not even a question about it. I wanted him to own more than just my number before he'd even spoken to me. From the moment I saw him, I wanted things I can't put in words.

"Sabella," my mom calls from inside the house, her tone carrying a warning.

If I'm not back in the house in the next second, my mom will come out and drag me inside. Having been embarrassed once in front my instant crush is more than enough.

I quickly rattle off my number.

The approval I want so desperately shows in the curve of his sensual lips. "Good girl."

That warm feeling of earlier spreads through my whole body. I focus on his lips. His bottom lip is fuller than his upper lip, giving his mouth both a sexy look and a determined set.

"I'll text you my number," he says. "If you ever need anything, you only have to call."

The enormity of the statement takes me aback. He doesn't owe me anything, yet he behaves as if he's already much more to me, even more than a boyfriend.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he strolls to the car parked next to the fountain. This time, when he drives away, he doesn't look back, but it's as if a part of him stayed behind. Inside me.