Page 49 of Wicked Beautiful (Wicked Games 1)
He looks at me as if the sun is shining out of my head. “Yes,” he breathes, his eyes wide, “this is what I am saying all of the times!” His look grows solemn. “You are very intelligent for a woman.”
I’m sure my smile would kill a more discerning man. He just accepts it as his rightful due and pats me on the arm, like I’m a mentally impaired servant who’s just said something surprisingly astute.
I make a noise that was meant to be a casual laugh, but sounds instead as if I’m retching. Concerned, Luciano pours me a glass of champagne from the chilled bottle in the built-in bar along one side of the limo. He hands it to me, and I guzzle it.
It’s going to be a long night.
When I’m finished, I hand the glass back to him.
“More?” he inquires.
I nod. “I love champagne. The only thing I love more than champagne is limoncello.”
I really don’t like champagne or limoncello, but every single thing I’ve said so far to Luciano has been a lie, starting with, “How nice to see you again,” so I’m just going with the flow. I can’t remember if I’m on lie number eight or nine now. It might be fun to try to keep track.
At the very least it will be interesting, which is more than I can say for my companion.
Luciano snaps his fingers. “Ah! Fantastico! I make my own limoncello! You will come to my restaurant after this cocktail party and try it.”
He pronounces that last part as if it’s a kingly decree. Obviously I have no say in the matter. I wonder how this man ever gets a real date.
I spend the remainder of the ride listening to Luciano expound at great length about the process of making limoncello, which is as thrilling as watching paint dry. By the time we arrive at the mayor’s house, my eyes are nearly crossed with boredom. I smile gratefully at the driver, who helps me from the car with a smirk that hints he has the same opinion of his employer as I do. Then I take Luciano’s arm and walk up the grand marble staircase that leads to the mayor’s front door.
And who is standing at the front door but el diablo himself—with his arm draped possessively around the shoulders of a gorgeous young woman.
FIFTEEN
As if I’ve been kicked in the stomach, my breath leaves my body with a grunt.
Naturally, Luciano doesn’t notice my sudden distress.
“Ah! My dear friend!” he exclaims. He raises his hand and charges toward the mayor, who is welcoming people as they arrive. Luciano drags me along by my elbow. He strides through the small, well-dressed crowd standing on the wide patio, knocking people aside with zero regard to their exclamations of surprise and irritation.
When we reach the threshold, Luciano releases me long enough to pump the mayor’s hand enthusiastically. Then he throws his arms around him and gives him a dramatic hug, followed by an even more dramatic Italian male greeting that involves a lot of cheek-kissing and back-slapping. The mayor—a small, balding man with owly eyes—looks stunned
by all the attention.
Then Luciano remembers me. “May I please present to you the belíssima Miss Victoria Price, a woman who has very much smart ideas to go along with her other beni pregiati!”
Jesus, did he just say I was pregnant?
Luciano yanks me forward by the wrist. In my heels, I nearly stumble, but catch myself in time. I wrench my wrist from his grip, pull myself to my full height, shoot Luciano a deadly glance, and then smile sweetly at the mayor.
“David. So wonderful to see you. Thank you for inviting me. I always look forward to your parties.”
The mayor warmly clasps my extended hand and smiles back. “Victoria, thank you for coming! Christine will be so pleased you’ve arrived. She says you’re her favorite guest. She was just asking for you, as a matter of fact.”
Wonderful. I’ve got another drunken bathroom hijack from the mayor’s wife in my immediate future.
Beside me, Luciano blinks. “Oh, you know the mayor?”
No, my entire life didn’t start until you drove up tonight in your stupid limo, dickweed.
“We’ve known each other for years,” I reply cheerfully, and am happy to see a flicker of disappointment cross Luciano’s perfect features.
The mayor says, “Victoria, Luciano, have you met Parker Maxwell? He’s my special guest this evening.”
When he turns to Parker with a smile, I’m finally forced to look at him.
