Page 38 of Ruined By Protection
"The first course is here," Damiano announces as servers enter with plates of antipasti. The spread is impressive—prosciutto di Parma, buffalo mozzarella, marinated artichokes, and olives imported from Sicily.
I watch as Hazel eyes the food with uncertainty, hesitating before selecting an olive. She places it in her mouth carefully and I find myself fixated on the movement of her lips. I remember how they felt against mine, soft and yielding.
"Hazel," Damiano says, drawing my attention back to the conversation, "Evelyn tells me you're quite skilled behind a bar."
She swallows quickly. "I wouldn't say skilled, exactly. Just experienced."
"Don't be modest," Evelyn jumps in. "Hazel could make anything. She worked at one of the top hotels in Austin."
"Perhaps you could mix us cocktails sometime," Lucrezia suggests brightly, oblivious to the undercurrent. "I've been trying to perfect my Negroni for ages."
Hazel smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I'd be happy to."
I watch her as she picks at the antipasti, selecting a piece of prosciutto with careful fingers. She wraps it around a small chunk of melon, the way Italians have done for centuries. Her movements are precise, almost delicate. She's trying hard not to draw attention to herself.
Three years ago those same fingers dug into my shoulders, my back, my ass. I remember how she gripped me like I was the only thing keeping her from flying apart. The memory sends heat rushing through me, settling low in my gut.
She takes a bite and a tiny drop of melon juice catches at the corner of her mouth. Her tongue darts out to catch it, pink and quick. Fuck. I shift in my seat, thankful for the tablecloth hiding my growing problem.
"The wine is excellent, Damiano," Enzo says, breaking through my thoughts. "Brunello?"
"2010," Damiano confirms. "A good year."
I take another sip, barely tasting it. Hazel reaches for her glass and I notice the slight tremble in her hand. She's nervous. I wonder if she's remembering too—the way I took her against that kitchen table, how I licked her in the elevator, then again in my suite. How many times did she come that night? Four? Five? I lost count.
I imagine bending her over this very table, hiking up that green dress, tearing away whatever's underneath. Would she be as responsive now as she was then? Would she still cry out my name when she comes?
"So, Hazel," Noah says, "how long do you think you'll be staying with us?"
She looks up, startled. "I... I'm not sure. I don't want to impose?—"
"Nonsense," Lucrezia interrupts. "You're welcome for as long as you need."
"Thank you," Hazel murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
I drain my wine glass and reach for the bottle again. This is going to be a long fucking dinner.
"Matteo will be handling your security while you're here," Damiano says casually, as if he's not just dropped a bomb at the table.
Hazel's eyes widen, darting to me then quickly away. "That's... I don't think I need?—"
"It's not up for discussion," Damiano cuts in, his tone gentle but firm. "Everyone in this house has security. Standard procedure."
She nods, looking down at her plate. I can practically see her mind racing, trying to figure out how to handle being stuck with me.
I imagine all the ways I could get her alone. The conversations we could have in private. The way I could back her against a wall, lift her up, and remind her exactly what she walked away from three years ago. How I could make her admit she remembers every moment of that night.
I'm so focused on her that I almost miss the feeling of being watched. When I look up, Lucrezia's eyes are locked onmine, moving between Hazel and me with calculated interest. A knowing smirk spreads across her face and my stomach drops.
Shit.
Lucrezia has always been too perceptive for her own good. She tilts her head slightly, raising an eyebrow in silent question. I keep my face neutral but it's too late. She's figured something out—maybe not everything, but enough.
She leans forward, that smirk still playing on her lips. "Hazel, has anyone given you a proper tour of the house yet? I'd be happy to show you around after dinner."
"That's very kind," Hazel says, clearly relieved to have someone's attention other than mine.
"Actually," Lucrezia continues, her eyes sliding back to me with mischief, "Matteo knows this place better than anyone. Since he's handling your security, maybe he should do the honors."
