Page 132 of Italy Can Bite Me

“Yeah, I figured you would say that. I’ve made a plan to tackle your problems and show you how we can build a perfect future.”

I thrust my binder at him as if I’m serving legal papers. He takes it, his expression caught between skepticism and curiosity as he flips through the pages. One. Two. Three. His movements grow more frantic. “What is this?” His eyes dart to mine, confusion written all over that beautiful face. “These pages are blank.”

“Exactly,” I say, stepping closer. “I don’t want a perfect life anymore. I want the messy, unpredictable, slightly terrifying life with you. That’s the point. I don’t have a plan.”

“You… want to wing it?”

“Yes. Bring on the chaos. The unknown. We’ll figure it out together. Though maybe with a smidge better accounting practices.”

“Katie… I don’t know. I’ve never been in a relationship and—” He swallows hard. “I can’t let you down.”

I grab his hand and press it to my chest, directly over my hammering heart. “You don’t have to promise me forever,” I whisper. “I just need you to love me. The rest we’ll figure out one day at a time.”

His eyes lock onto mine, wide and vulnerable. “I don’t deserve you.”

“And I don’t deserve you,” I whisper back. “Yet somehow we found each other.”

Something shifts in his expression, like a dam breaking. His hands cup my face, and then his mouth is on mine, hot and desperate and perfect.His kiss is a fierce, unbridled force of feelings impossible to contain, a thunderous roar that sweeps me off my feet and steals my breath away.

When he finally pulls back, resting his forehead against mine, his breath fans across my lips.

“But what if this goes horribly wrong?”

“What if it goes amazingly right?”

A smile tugs at his lips. “I guess if it does go wrong, we know who to blame.”

“Lorenzo,” we say together, chuckling.

“Are you sure you’re not Italian?” Matteo says with a smile. “Because your stubbornness rivals Caterina’s.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Oh, it was,” he says, then shifts his voice to a sinful rumble. “And I expect to see that stubborn fire in my bedroom tonight. After the tour.”

I raise an eyebrow, patting his chest. “Then you’d better get back to it, Italian Stallion.”

His palms settle against my cheeks, his eyes tender and warm. “Katie, you are the most captivating creature I’ve ever beheld. I will make it my mission to be worthy of your love.”

Before I can respond, he grabs my waist and lifts me off the ground, my legs instinctively wrapping around him. “And screw waiting,” he growls, his lips brushing my ear. Louder, he announces, “Attenzione! One hour till go time!”

He holds me tight as he leans over and scoops up my dance gear and purse.

“Where are we going?” I ask, breathless and giddy.

“I thought I’d show you my Leaning Tower of Pisa.”

“Oh really? Let me guess—it’s rock-solid?”

“Only for you,mi amore.”

“Say it again.”

“Mi amore.”

His lips meet mine, and in that moment, I know two things: (1) Matteo Monti is my soulmate, and (2) I’m either getting a call… or my she-devil of an aunt slipped her “travel companion” into my purse.

Bzzzzzzzzzz!

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