Page 65 of Wreck Me

'As I'll ever be.' I grab the matching clutch from my bed and spray two more squirts of the perfume on my wrists.

I assumed Tim was waiting outside, but when we step out into the crisp, cold night, a graphite grey Ferrari waits for us.

James slips his hand into mine and guides me to the passenger side. My mouth opens. Then closes again. 'This is stunning.'

'I'm glad you approve.' He opens the door for me and ushers me in. 'I ordered it when I was away a couple of weeksago,' he announces breezily, like it's a new tie, not one of the fanciest sports cars around.

That unique, new-car scent of leather and luxury invades my lungs as I watch him strut around to the driver's side.

'I love the colour,' I say, admiring the gleaming paint in the passenger wing mirror as he starts it up.

He chuckles. 'It reminded me of your eyes.'

My head spins to the side. I can't tell if he's joking or not. Either way, the man clearly has more money than sense, but I can't help but smile anyway.

'Can you drive?'

'Sort of.' I tilt my head to study his profile. A small smile plays on his lips. 'Don't even think about making a women driver joke.'

'I wouldn't dream of it,' he laughs, and I know I hit the nail on the head.

'I started lessons before...' I trail off. 'But I didn't finish them.'

'I’ll teach you, if you like.' He takes my hand in his and plants a kiss on the back of it.

'Haven't you agreed to teach me enough already?' I smirk.

'I don’t think I’ll ever tire of teaching you, Scarlett.' A serious expression flashes over his face.

'Where are we going?' I gaze through the window at the lantern-lined driveway.

'Somewhere you’ll like, I promise.' He puts my hand back on my thigh, stroking it gently before his hands return to the steering wheel.

Fifteen minutes later, we park outside a small restaurant overlooking the beach. Waves crash against the shore in the distance. A hint of spring lingers in the air along with the briny scent of seaweed.

The restaurant doesn’t look like much from the outside. As we step through the arched doorway, I realise James hasstumbled upon a hidden gem. There are ten tables, each decked with a red tablecloth and a small vase with a single rose. Only one of them is set. There’s no one else here. Did he hire the entire restaurant?

I expected something bigger, bolder, fancier.

But quaint, private, and personal is so much more intimate.

'Ah, Mr Beckett.' An older man in a tuxedo approaches us. 'So good to see you again,' he purrs in an authentic Italian accent.

Italian is my favourite.

A coincidence? Or is it possible Ireland’s most eligible bachelor is ridiculously considerate as well as hot?

The smile playing on his lips suggests the latter.

'Thank you, Matteo. It’s great to be back.' James slaps the waiter’s back like he’s an old friend.

Matteo.

'You brought a friend, finally.' The waiter winks at me.

'This is my girlfriend, Scarlett.' James places his palm on the small of my back as Matteo pulls the chairs out from the table for us to sit.

'Girlfriend?' The surprise is evident in every line of his weathered face. 'I think this calls for champagne.' Matteo rubs his hands together.

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