14. Jenn

Chapter 14

Jenn

Dante held his wineglass up as the sommelier retreated from our table. “What shall we toast to this evening?”

Like a good girl, I’d called Emmett ten minutes before eight o’clock, as Dante and I were preparing to leave. I still hadn’t heard from Dr. Ferraro, so I’d simply cleaned the Constable until the gallery closed. Emmett had tried five different ways to convince me not to go to dinner and come directly back to the hotel. He’d even offered to take me out himself, if that was what I wanted.

Instead, I told him Dante had already made reservations at Le Ciel, a rooftop restaurant on the far side of the Monte Carlo Casino, and that I’d be back when I was done. Emmett had told me to enjoy myself, as though it were his choice, not mine. Honestly, I’d been surprised he hadn’t insisted I call to let him know when I was walking back.

“To this amazing view.” I raised my glass toward the railing next to us, inhaling the hint of the sea wafting in from the Mediterranean. It was the only glass I’d have all night. It was late, and I was exhausted—more than one would put me to sleep where I sat. Before taking a sip, I shifted the glass in his direction. “And to new friends.”

Dante’s smile widened as our glasses clinked, his dark eyes never leaving mine. “And to beautiful women with a passion for art.”

Heat flared up my cheeks, and I covered the blush with one hand as I returned the glass to the table.

Dante reached over and moved my hand. “You’re embarrassed by this?”

“No, it’s…” I glanced away from him. “I’m just not used to…”

“To what?” His thumb traced over the back of my hand in a gesture so delicate, the hairs on my neck stood up. This didn’t feel like a business dinner.

“Being complimented.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. It wasn’t entirely true—men said nice things to me all the time, but they never seemed so… “Or at least, complimented honestly?”

“This is truly a sin.” He let go of me and pressed a hand against his heart. “On behalf of all men, I apologize.”

I laughed quietly and finally looked at him again. “I suppose I can find it in me to accept your apology.”

There was such sincerity in his eyes. Behind it, a smoldering intensity. It was like a touch, an energy pulsing off him. So why was I still thinking about Emmett?

“This is excellent news. Because I must confess…” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “My intention for this evening was to invite you to my apartment when we were done.”

His apartment?

“I can think of little more I would enjoy tonight than an evening of pleasure with you.”

Holy shit—that was unexpected. “Pleasure?” Or was it completely expected?

“Whether that pleasure turned out to be thoughtful conversation, a glass of wine, or hours of passionate lovemaking would have been up to you.”

“Would have been?”

“I am a man who takes what he wants.” He paused for a moment, scanning my face as if searching for permission to go on. He must have found it, because he did. “But the one thing I will not take is another man’s woman.”

“I’m not…”

He leaned an elbow on the table and ran his thumb over his lips. “We would have had a lot of fun, you and I.”

“I… I didn’t say no.” Why did I say that? Because I shouldn’t have been saying no. I should have been throwing down my napkin and saying, Yes, please!

“Perhaps not with your words, but with every other part of your body.” His gaze skimmed down my face and neck, slowly crawling along what the table didn’t hide from him. “When we first met in Nice, I felt an immediate attraction to you. It was obvious in your eyes and your smile you felt the same, but still, there was hesitation.”

“I just came off a nasty breakup.” Why did I tell him? I hadn’t even told my friends yet.

The intensity in his eyes softened, then they narrowed. “I saw the same spark when we first came to Monte Carlo. But it changed when we went for dinner with my father.”

Changed?

He nodded slowly and picked up his glass, watching the deep liquid, rather than drinking. “Emmett.”

A nervous flutter spread through my stomach at his name.

Damn it!

“There’s nothing going on between us.”

“I’ve seen that. However, my father is a shrewd businessman who’s taught me a great deal. One of those lessons is to know which battles are worth fighting and which aren’t.” Dante looked out at the water and took a sip of his wine. His eyes fluttered closed as he held the wine on his tongue for a moment before swallowing. “Winning you over would have been an entertaining battle for both of us, but you belong to someone else.”

How was I not saying no, and yet somehow saying no? “I told you, I just broke up with my boyfriend.”

Dante placed his wineglass on the table. “I’m not referring to titles like boyfriend or legal entanglements like marriage. I’m talking about your heart.”

My heart? It had no idea what was going on. “Emmett and I aren’t a thing.”

He whispered, “Then why is he at a table with three other people, but he can’t take his eyes off you?”

My spine snapped straight. “What?”

No way. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t spying on me because I’d told him where we were going for dinner.

I turned to the side, but my back still faced most of the restaurant. Even if Emmett was watching, it didn’t matter, because I didn’t care. Honestly, I didn’t care. That overprotective, self-absorbed jerk did not drag his whole team to Le Ciel because he didn’t trust me.

“Jenn, my father also taught me how to read people. You and Emmett have more history than either of you will admit to, I think.”

Our history included all of one kiss. A hand that drifted, but didn’t touch anything off-limits. It included years of my father’s judgment. Half my life, being close to Emmett, but never close enough.

“Sometimes, I find brilliant women miss things that are right in front of them.”

What was I missing, other than living my own life? Tasting the flavors of the world?

“But if you tell me your heart does not belong to him, you and I will have our night together. As many nights as you want, until you leave.”

I don’t belong to Emmett . The denial sat awkwardly in the pit of my stomach. Part of me always wanted him, despite everything. Or maybe because of everything. Because he’d rejected me, and I never got over it? Childish imprinting? Craving the bad boy?

“I thought so.” He sighed. “Before my ego insists I attempt to seduce you anyway—which will lead to neither of us having what we want—can we make a promise to each other?”

Dante genuinely wanted me. Only for a few nights, but he did. And he was honest about it. When was the last time that happened? Actually, it happened three boyfriends ago. The co-worker who stole my plans at work.

He hadn’t really wanted the sex anyway. He wanted my ideas.

But Dante? He’d wanted the night, and rather than pushing it, he was pushing… what was he pushing? He was turning me down, wasn’t he?

I was so tired, and nothing made any sense.

“We shall be friends, you and I.” Dante brought my fingers to his lips. “You will allow me to continue flirting with you. No expectations of anything to come later, simply one single man enjoying the company of a stunning, almost-single woman. Is this fair?”

“I don’t understand, Dante.”

He continued holding my hand, resting my fingers against his chin. “How long has he been in love with you?”

Air spluttered out of my lungs, and I almost laughed. “Since never.”

“As I said…” He pulled my fingers to his lips and kissed them again. “Brilliant women…”