Page 43 of Captive Heart: Armani
“You’re right. Thank you for lunch,” I say.
Relaxing, he makes light conversation about work and some of the new accounts he’s working on pulling together—out-of-state distributors for Bellanti wine that he wants me to take a look at. The topic shifts to a rare variety of grape that Frankie has been pushing Dante to import from Italy. She hopes to test some vines on a patch of land being specifically cultivated for the finicky variety. If it’s a success, the Bellantis will be the only growers outside of Italy to produce it. Talk about exclusive.
“So would this be a brand-new wine, or would you use the grapes for blending?” I ask.
“We’ll press a few batches with this grape alone, see how we like it, and then decide.”
We talk wine some more, and then I catch him up on the work in sales that I’ve just started getting back into. Armani so rarely makes day-to-day conversation like this with me that I’m completely caught up in it. The normalcy gives me a much-needed reprieve from the Russian threat still looming over our heads.
“How is it?” he asks, nodding at my spaghetti.
“Delicious. Here, have some,” I say, scooping a portion from my to-go container into his. “And thanks for taking your lunch break with me.”
Armani nods. “Of course.”
Our eyes meet. A shock of heat instantly flares between my legs. I look away, grabbing my water and taking a few sips while silently scolding myself for being so susceptible to his charms. Except maybe…maybe I should stop defaulting to defensive mode. Maybe I should trust my heart this time.
When I’m with Armani like this, just the two of us, he makes me feel like we could really work together. This connection, this attraction, the fact that being with him is so easy. All of it makes me want to surrender to him, and to have him surrender to me.
He returns to his food, and I do the same, but the surge of warmth and emotion inside is urging me to say something. To tell him how I feel. Tell him to screw the six-month agreement; I want us to pull together and try to be a real family.
“You know that I only want to keep you safe and happy, right?”
His question comes out of nowhere, and it throws me. Where is this going?
“Ye…es?” I say hesitantly.
Setting his fork down, he turns toward me.
“Good. Look, I know we’ve been through hell these last few months, and it’s not over yet. But I also want you to know that we’re united. We’re a team.”
“I feel the same,” I say quietly, dropping my gaze. This is all too much.
“Look at me.”
His rough, demanding voice washes over me, sending a shiver of want down my spine. I raise my chin to look up at him and he cups my face, running his thumb lightly over my cheek. His touch is so sweet, I can’t help but lean my face into his palm. All the emotions I’ve tried to keep under control suddenly flood to the surface.
He draws me closer, his gaze flicking to my mouth. Lips tingling in anticipation of his kiss, I slide a hand over his firm bicep.
“We still have a lot of work to do,” he says against my lips.
“Yes,” I whisper.
And then he kisses me, full and all-consuming. Moving baby items out of the way with a sweep of his arm, he lays me down on the soft rug. Instantly, my legs go up around his hips and I lean back to drink in his kiss as he feasts on my lips.
The scent of his cologne radiates off his neck. It’s so intoxicating, I can’t help putting my lips there so I can taste him. Armani groans deep in his throat.
“Do you want to take me to bed?” I purr.
“I always want to take you to bed.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
I push him aside and sit up, but he stops me with a hand on my chest. Assuming he wants to do it right here in the future nursery, I reach for his belt, but he catches my hands and kisses my knuckles.
“I need to ask you a favor, Candi.”
Smirking, I say, “Sounds promising. What can I do for you?”
