Page 22 of The Proposal

He places his cornetti on the counter and grasps my wrist, lifting my hand towards his face.

“Which one?”

“This one,” I say, wiggling my forefinger.

He unexpectedly kisses the tip of it, leaving me momentarily frozen and unsure whether to pull away or lean in closer.

“Is that better?” he asks.

I lift one shoulder as my eyes move back to lock with his. “A little,” I admit.

This time, he parts his lips, and I stand there shocked when he slips the entire finger into his mouth. I feel his warm tongue curl around my digit as he slowly drags it out, releasing it with an audible pop. Thankfully, I manage to bite back my whimper.

“How about now?” he asks, his voice lower and more intense than usual, making my pulse quicken as his gaze holds mine.

The combination of his actions, words, proximity, and the scent of his minty breath makes me feel slightly lightheaded.

He notices when I sway a little on my feet and instinctively places a hand on my hip, steadying me.

The world seems to pause momentarily as the air crackles around us, and it’s too much.

“I need to finish these,” I say, abruptly turning and giving him my back.

“Can I do anything to help?”

His offer shocks me. Papa firmly believed that a woman’s place was in the kitchen … not a man’s.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got this. It’s what I’ve been training for my entire life.”

“Training?”

I glance at him over my shoulder. “To be the dutiful wife.”

Those words have his brows pinching together. “This isn’t a fucking circus, Arabella,” he growls, shaking his head. “Your father has a lot to answer for.” He grasps my chin when I try to turn away. “Look at me,Bellezza.”

I shift my body slightly, and he locks eyes with me, his gaze intense as his hands grip the countertop, effectively caging me in.

“You don’t need to be anything but yourself around me. Got it?”

I nod, unsure of what else to say.

“Good. Glad we got that cleared up,” he murmurs as he leans in to press his lips to my cheek. It’s a soft, unexpected gesture, and so sweet that it catches me off guard.

He steps back, grabs his cornetti, and leaves the room.

Without thinking, my hand finds its way to the spot on my cheek where he just placed his lips, and my mouth curves up at the corners.

When I hear him call out, “Mmm, fucking delicious,” from somewhere in the distance, my smile grows.

It feels good to be seen and appreciated.

Chapter 7

Dante

On a beautiful sunny day like today, my father would usually hold his meetings outside by the pool, but I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to go out there again. I can’t even bring myself to enter the back portion of the house.

The last thing I want is to have another embarrassing episode like the one I had in front of Arabella yesterday, but I was impressed by how she handled things. How she shielded me and scolded my men was unexpected but appreciated.

---