Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
This apartment isn’t the ideal location because it’s too close to Franzini’s, and most New Yorkers will not change their minds about certain things, including their preferred neighborhood pizza.
There just so happens to be an empty storefront a block from Turquoise Crown, so I decide to point out the potential for a side hustle in a way that I hope won’t inflate his ego too much. “There’s a vacant space around the corner from my bar that could be transformed into a take-out pizza place if your current career doesn’t pan out.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” His eyes brighten as a slow smile spreads over his lips.
I eye him suspiciously, trying desperately not to crack a smile of my own. “What do you think I’m saying?”
“That this is the best pizza you’ve ever had.” He frames it as a statement. “You’re admitting that I’m better than Elio Franzini.”
“Better in what way?” I tease. “Are you talking about your pizza-making abilities, or is this strictly a looks thing?”
Even before Posey showed me a picture of her and her two brothers, I knew what Elio Franzini looked like. Many of the patrons of his restaurant ask for selfies with the dark-haired, tattooed chef. Those are all over social media, so it’s almost impossible not to notice how handsome he is.
William’s eyes narrow. “You think Elio is hot?”
I shrug a shoulder and sigh for added dramatic effect as I tap my index finger against my chin. “Everyone thinks Elio Franzini is hot.”
His lips twitch as he holds in a grin. “Good to know.”
I study him, shocked by his reaction. Many men would sulk after hearing the woman they’re having dinner with comment on how hot another guy is, but William is taking it all in stride.
His confidence level is off the charts.
He takes a sip from his glass of wine. “I’m glad you liked the pizza, Opal.”
“It was really good,” I admit, eyeing what’s left of my half. “What else can you cook?”
“If you can name it, I can cook it.” There’s not a hint of smugness in his tone.
The desire to list the names of a host of complicated dishes is there, but this dinner is a one time thing. I ate the pizza, I’ll sleep with the man, and then we’ll part ways. Falling into anything beyond that with him will only result in pain for me.
I can’t become attached to a man again, not after what happened the last time I served my heart to a guy on a silver platter. He handed it right back to me in a million broken pieces.
“For some reason, I believe you,” I say softly.
Something flashes across his expression. It’s quick, but it steals his grin away for a split second. When his gaze finds mine again, he’s regained his composure. “Good, because I would never lie about my abilities in the kitchen.”
That makes me wonder what he would lie about.
“More wine?” he asks right before finishing what’s left in his glass.
Shaking my head, I wave my hand over the rim of mine. “No. I’m good.”
“Have you had enough pizza?”
I smile. “I think I’m done for now.”
He rests a hand over mine. “I have a confession to make.”
“A confession?” I whisper, silently praying that it’s nothing sinister. “What confession?”
His gaze trails over the front of my dress. “It’s taken every ounce of patience I possess not to drop to my knees, hike that dress up, and dive between your legs for a taste of you.”
I squirm on my chair because the sound of his voice saying that to me is enough to make me want to rip his clothes off and drop to my knees for my first taste of him.
He leans close enough that his breath rushes over my cheek. “Tell me I don’t have to wait a second more, Opal.”
I push back just far enough that I can look into the depths of his eyes. I know that what’s about to happen between us will become a part of me. This night will be etched into my memory forever. “I’m all yours.”
34
William
Whatever the hell I did in this life to deserve this moment in time, I need to repeat it over and over again because one night with this woman will not be enough.
Since that thought has never entered my mind before, it catches me off guard. I suck in a deep breath and relish in the realization that Opal is different than anyone I’ve ever met.
I’ve never believed in the concept of soul mates. I’m not sure I ever will, but I’m starting to understand what true connection is. I’m staring at the most beautiful woman in the world as she slowly gazes around my bedroom. She’s taking her time looking at the art that graces the walls (all of it is courtesy of my brother) and the linens covering the bed.