Page 68 of Mine Again
“Well, there’s only one way to stop being a stranger,” he says. “But I get it. You can’t be too careful… especially after a date that didn’t look like it went too well.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. Was he eavesdropping?
He chuckles at my unimpressed expression. He reaches into his jacket, pulls out a card, and holds it out to me.
“There are a lot of weirdos out there. But I’d like to think I’m not one of them.”
I take the card before I can second-guess myself. It’s thick and smooth, with his name embossed in elegant type.
“Call me,” he says, but somehow it sounds more like a command.
A small, disbelieving laugh escapes me. I feel light and unsteady, like the world tilted under my feet and no one warned me.
“I’ll… maybe,” I say, and immediately wish I sounded more certain.
“Maybe,” he echoes, one brow lifting. “I’ll take that as dangerously close to yes.”
He winks, then turns and walks back to his table. No hesitation. No backward glance.
I stare after him for a beat too long before catching myself.
He greets the man who arrived while we were talking, and just before sitting down, he throws me one more of those cursed, panty-melting smiles that makes my stomach flip like it’s training for the Olympics.
With a slow grin spreading across my face, I turn and leave the café.
Well, good one, Universe.
Hasn’t this afternoon taken a dramatic turn?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Isabella
I’m still smiling when I get home, and my grin only gets bigger when I pull out Sebastian’s card from my bag. Turning it over between my fingers, I stare at it for a little while.
Sebastian Moretti
His name is embossed, bold and stark, like the man himself.
There’s nothing on the card except his name and a phone number. No company. No address.
Is this how the rich and powerful do it?
I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been handed a business card before.
Will I call him like he so boldly commanded?
The answer should be obvious. I just lost my only viable candidate for Plan NUPTIAL.
Argh.
It was supposed to be simple. Find a kind, predictable man with a low-risk profession and a decent credit score. Someone who doesn’t carry a burner phone. Someone whose greatest life-threatening decision is whether or not to go gluten-free.
Sebastian Moretti is not that man.
He doesn’t walk, he prowls. He doesn’t talk, he commands. Helooks at you like he already knows what you’ll say and has decided whether it’s worth listening to.
He’s everything my plan says I should avoid.
