Page 223 of Mario

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Theboxes.

All of them.

Not the green one because… well, I’m still wearing that one. I can’t help myself. I love it so much.

But all the rest—the red ribbon, the pale one, the nearly correct one, and God knows how many others—are packed neatly inside the bag.

My head snaps up.

“No.”

Mario’s brow lifts.

“No,” I repeat, pushing the bag toward him. “Absolutely not.”

He looks down at the bag, amused. “I beg to differ.”

“You boughtonefor me.”

“I bought several.”

“Mario.”

“Victoria.”

“I cannot possibly take all of this.”

“You can.”

“No, I cannot.”

“You will.”

I shove the bag at his chest. He makes no move to take it. “Do not be charming. I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“You only ripped one of mine.”

His expression turns hungry and makes my stomach tighten.

“I remember.”

Of course he does.

My face heats.

“Then replace one,” I say. “One. Singular. That’s how replacement works.”

“Places like this do not accept returns,cara.”

I stare at him.

He looks far too calm and reasonable.

“I’m sure you can manage something,” I say.

“Not in this case.”

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