Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
“The hilarious part is he genuinely thinks we cut them that size for you.” Mariella rolls her eyes.
“Why do they have cucumbers in them?” Cristian grumbles as he and Angelo look over the offerings.
“This is why you don’t invite men to a tea party.” Val laughs.
A few of my friends venture over to explain how this works, and I sip on my cocktail, enjoying the show. Chantel and Serafina start talking about a book they both read, and while everyone’s distracted, a warm voice brushes against my ear.
“Happy birthday, Gabriela.”
That low, deep reverberation sends a shiver all the way down to my toes, and when I glance over my shoulder, Romeo is right behind me.
In typical serial killer fashion, I didn’t hear him approach.
“Hi,” I breathe, slowly turning to face him. “What are you doing here?”
As soon as the question leaves my lips, I worry it sounded like an insult, so I rush to overexplain.
“I just meant—”
“I know what you meant.” Amusement glimmers in his warm, amber irises.
For a moment, I get lost in those depths, forgetting myself as I stare at him. It’s been so long since I’ve let myself study them, I forgot how much they took my breath away.
True to his namesake, Il Lupo, his eyes are wolfish and a little wild. Always watching, always tracking. He absorbs everything, luring in prey with a false sense of comfort before he bites. Or maybe that’s just how I imagine him.
“Hope I’m not interrupting.” Rafe ambles over with a smirk on his face, slapping his brother on the back. “You want a doll-sized sandwich?”
Romeo grimaces before he shoots his brother a glare.
“Oh fuck, sorry. Forgot about the ribs.”
My heart beats erratically as that information settles between us.
It’s just a coincidence—him and Eros both being hurt at the same time. It has to be. He has a girlfriend.
“Did you get Gabs a gift?” Rafe asks. “I bet mine is better.”
This earns him another scowl from Romeo before he turns his attention back to me.
“My gift to her is my presence.” He tugs on the end of my braid. “And one whole day of no torment.”
My stomach somersaults when he gives me a hint of a smile.
“Always the charmer.” Rafe snorts.
“Okay, time for presents,” Abella announces. “Where’s the birthday girl?”
She glances across the room, her gaze moving between Romeo and me before she raises her brows.
I shrug, and she smiles.
“Over here, Gabs.” Valentina gestures to the lounge, where they’ve tried to lure me in with all the soft blankets and pillows.
They know those are my weakness. They also know that opening presents is my least favorite part of these parties.
It’s not that I’m not grateful, and I actually do like presents. But opening them with so many eyes on me is always a little embarrassing, no matter how you slice it.
My family didn’t really get me presents when I was growing up. Half the time, my parents forgot my birthday, and when they did remember, they just sent me to the island. Regardless, I didn’t care because I’d rather spend the day with my cousins. They always made it special, and even if there had been no presents or cake, I would have been happy just to be with them.
I make my way over to the lounge, and Val gives me an encouraging smile as she whispers conspiratorially. “Don’t worry. The guys are so busy eating they won’t even pay attention. That’s why we’re doing it now.”
I glance at the sideboard and can see that’s true. Everyone but Romeo and Rafe is gathered around, talking amongst each other as they eat from plates that look tiny in their huge Vitale hands.
It should be a comfort to have fewer eyes on me, but there’s one pair I can’t seem to escape. As I steal a glance at him, I wonder if this is some weird new game we’re playing—like who will look away first. Except, he always wins that game, and this time is no exception because Val brings me the first present to open.
It’s a gift from her, of course, because Val is always eager to give her gifts out.
“I hope you love it.” She waits anxiously as I remove the top of the gift box and peer inside.
My eyes light up when I see the Regency-style vanity tray and matching hand mirror.
“Now you’ll feel like you’re living in a Jane Austen novel,” she says.
“I love it so much, Val. Thank you.”
She beams proudly and sets the box aside, handing me another one. The process continues with too many presents to count. My friends know me well, and every gift reflects that.
Wax seals, stationery sets, pink fluffy heart pens, Ghostface memorabilia, a Regency-style choker, a parasol, and a delicate pink fan. There are also a plethora of bath products designed for sensitive skin that aren’t overly scented.