He seemed appalled by our conversation. But maybe that was just his default setting. Glacial, reserved, and offhanded.
Part of me reasoned I should take what he’d offered. Not go all the way, of course. I was saving my virginity. But a few fumbles in the dark wouldn’t hurt.
Not like Madison sat at home, working on our couple’s scrapbook.
I knew for a fact he went out all over D.C., enjoying brief affairs with models and socialites. My friend Hayleigh lived across the hall from him and told me about the women coming in and out of his condo.
I mean, we weren’t even together-together. We spoke on the phone once a month to “get to know each other,” per our parents’ request, but that was it.
A man like Romeo Costa was a once-in-a-lifetime event.
I should take advantage of it.
Of him.
And maybe he could teach me a few tricks. Something to impress Madison with.
Besides…shortbread.
As soon as Daddy turned to speak with Mr. Goldberg, I dashed toward the restroom. I white-knuckled the edge of the gold-specked limestone sink, blinking into the mirror.
It’s just a few kisses.
You’ve done this before with plenty of boys.
He was so new, so mature, so sophisticated, I didn’t even care that he was downright mean. Let’s get real here—Mr. Darcy wasn’t exactly swoon-worthy until the last twenty percent of the book.
“Nothing bad will happen,” I assured my reflection. “Nothing.”
Behind me, a toilet flushed.
Emilie escaped a booth, frowning as she settled beside me to wash her hands.
“Did you smoke the same thing that waiter gave your sister?” The back of her soapy hand rose to my forehead. “You’re talking to yourself.”
I dodged her touch. “Hey, Em, did you meet Romeo Costa?”
She shook her head, pouting. “He and von Bismarck are the main attractions. Always surrounded by herds of people. I couldn’t even get a picture of the guy. I saw you dancing with him. So lucky. I’d kill for the opportunity.”
A breathless, reckless laugh escaped me.
I shook my head.
“Where are you going?” she called after me.
To do something wild.
2
DALLAS
That this could be a mistake didn’t once occur to me as I waited, perched on the stone bench behind the rose bushes.
Summer’s warm breath clung to the crisp night, humid residue weighing down roses in full bloom.
Romeo Costa was three minutes and thirty-four seconds late.
Yet, somehow, I knew he’d come.
I bit my lip to stem my giggles. Adrenaline coursed through my veins.
When crunched leaves penetrated cricket chirps and hums from faraway cars, I straightened my spine. Romeo’s flawless features came into view, illuminated by the moon’s sleek blue shadow.
He was even more beautiful in pure darkness. Like he was in his natural habitat, playing on his home field.
True to his word, he held an open champagne bottle by its neck in one hand and a handful of shortbread squares tucked inside a napkin in the other.
“My precious!” I growled in a Gollum voice, extending my fingers.
He gave me the bored glare of a man used to fending off fangirls, before realizing I’d reached for the shortbread, not him.
I shoved an entire square into my mouth, tipped my head back, and groaned. “So good. I can practically taste London.”
“Surrey,” he corrected, staring at me as if I were a wild boar he needed to wrestle. “Do you enjoy the taste of ancient ruins and manure?”
“Buzzkill.”
For a reason beyond my grasp, he seemed really unhappy about spending time with me, even though he’d initiated this meeting.
“Let’s go somewhere discreet.”
It was more of a demand than a suggestion.
“No one will find us here.” I waved a hand. “I’ve been attending this ball since I was sixteen. I know every nook and cranny in this place.”
He shook his head. “Some waiters come here for a smoke.”
Romeo must’ve not wanted to be seen with me just as much as I didn’t want to be seen with him. I was a provincial, silly girl to his billionaire-tycoon reputation.
I sighed, dusting shortbread crumbs onto the cobblestone. “Fine. But if you think I’m going to go all the way with you, you’re gravely mistaken.”
“I wouldn’t dare assume.” He punctuated the dark mutter with his back, starting for the other side of the courtyard.
It seemed like he was running away from me, not leading the way. I followed him nonetheless, munching on my third shortbread.
“What made you come to the rose garden? The snacks or the proposition?”
“A bit of both.” I licked my fingers. “And the fact that I bet Madison doesn’t stay fai—” I stopped myself.
I shouldn’t talk badly about my fiancé, even if he did do me dirty. We weren’t officially together. We hadn’t even kissed.
It wasn’t like I was jealous. I couldn’t give the first dang about whom he hung out with before we truly became a couple.
“Curiosity killed the cat,” I amended.
“Your cat will survive. Though I’m tempted to leave it in less-than-pristine condition.”
My cat? Did he mean my pu…
Oh. My. Lord.
My body, which didn’t get the memo that we were both supposed to dislike conceited jerks, got tingly in places I normally forgot existed.
“You’re terrible,” I informed him cheerfully. “You’re going to be my favorite mistake.”
He stopped on a rolling green hill at the back of the opera house. It seemed secluded enough, with a dark wall to our right.
Romeo passed me the champagne bottle. “Drink.”
Pressing it to my lips, I drained a fifth. “You’re not a master of seduction, are you?”
He leaned against the wall, hands tucked inside his front pockets. “Seduction is an art I rarely have to perform.”
The fizzy liquid ran down my throat, cold and fresh.
I coughed a little, forking over the bottle. “So humble.”
He took a generous swig, the gum still in his mouth. “Are you a virgin?”
“Yes.” I glanced around, suddenly wondering if it was worth it. He was hot. But also, kind of a pig. “Are you?”
“Close enough.”
The question had been a joke, so it took me a while to register his answer.
Tipping my head back, I laughed. “What do you know? There is a sense of humor under all this ice.”
“Have you considered how far you want to take this?” He passed the bottle back to me, two-thirds empty.
“Can I just tell you when to stop?”
“From my brief history with you, my guess is you won’t stop until you’ve not only lost your virginity, but have lost the virginity of every other well-bred girl in this zip code, too. Let’s agree to keep your hymen intact.”
Someone needed to work on their dirty talk.
“Sounds good. Are you from New York?”
“No.”
“Then wher—”
“Let’s not talk.”
Oh. Kay.
The man wasn’t going down in my history book for the nicest hookup, but he was the hottest one by a thousand miles, so I let it slide.
We shuttled the champagne back and forth until it emptied. My body felt like a live wire, humming with anticipation.
Finally—finally—he set the bottle on the ground, pushed off the wall, and pinched my chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting my head up.
My heart somersaulted, diving to the pit of my stomach, where it liquidized into sludge.
For the first time, his eyes glittered with warm approval. “I’ve met IRS agents more likable than you. I’ll give you one thing, though. You’re quite delicious, Miss Townsend.”
My mouth fell open. “How would you kno—”
But I never finished the sentence because he spat his gum on the grass and shut me up with a searing kiss.
His mouth was warm and smelled of bonfire, expensive perfume, and spearmint. It sucked all logic out of me, rendering me dizzy.
His body felt strong, hard, and foreign. I molded into him, wrapping around him like an octopus.
He darted the tip of his tongue out, parting my lips. When I opened them eagerly, his satisfaction reverberated in my stomach.
He cupped the back of my neck to deepen the kiss. His tongue was fully in my mouth now, exploring the grounds like it was conquering every inch.
The bite of freshness from his gum filled me. He tasted delicious, applying just the right amount of pressure.