Page 9 of Roses are Royal

“Designing your home is my only priority, and I feel a unique draw to this project now that I’ve had the chance to see it. I’d really love the opportunity to show you what I have in mind, and then if you still feel this isn’t the right fit, I’d be happy to recommend another designer.” I hold my breath because the last thing I want to do is lose this opportunity—not just because Dante is my first client under Lusso Designs but also because of the property.

It’s like Dante was in my head when he had it built, down to the detailed crown molding and parquet floors. I wasn’t lying when I told him I feel drawn to this project. If anything, I’m downplaying my emotions.

Dante looks into my eyes for several seconds. It’s a measure of my patience to not fill the silence with mindless babble, but I hold my posture and return his eye contact. I haven’t had the luxury of making eye contact with him long enough to study his face, his eyes in particular. At first, I thought they were dark green like the forest around us, but now I see flecks of brown in his left eye that add almost a softness to his usually surly stare. His prolonged eye contact so entrances me that I almost jump when he speaks, breaking the charged silence.

“Good. I wouldn’t want anything to get in the way of this…job.”

Dante’s response feels a bit intense for the situation, like there is more he isn’t saying, but all I can do is let out the breath I have been holding and push forward.

“Thank you, Dante. I promise you won’t regret this!” I beam at him with a genuine smile, ready to move past this and finally have a chance to showcase my expertise.

“Lo faccio già,” Dante mutters under his breath.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Did you say something about bread?”

Dante’s eyebrow raises with confusion, and he responds, “Bread?”

“Sorry, I thought you said something about focaccia?” My cheeks heat with embarrassment because why the hell would he be talking about bread right now? Am I having a stroke? Don’t people think about bread when they have a stroke? Or is that toast? Ugh, this man continues to fluster me like no one else I’ve ever met.

Dante watches me without speaking, clearly waiting for more information. And because I have lost the ability to contain my word vomit, I add, “I love focaccia. Do you bake? I can’t bake, or cook really. I usually just order takeout. I like all kinds of food. Do you like food? You look like you like to eat.”

“I love to eat,” Dante responds as his lips rise on one side in what is becoming his signature smirk when I can’t seem to shut my mouth. He is clearly amused by my mindless babble, which is refreshing because most people find my rants tiresome.

Is it hot in here? Am I sweating? Would it be inappropriate to fan my armpits? I don’t even remember what we were talking about. Why does him saying he loves to eat sound like we aren’t talking about food? Ro, get your mind out of the gutter and back on track!

“Oh, are you hungry?” That is your response? Good lord, this has to be some record of embarrassment with a single person. “I mean, did you eat this morning? Breakfast, did you eat breakfast this morning? I only had some instant coffee at the motel because I didn’t want to face Shirley this morning, but I wasn’t really that hungry anyway.” Shut up, shut up, shut up!

“Who is Shirley?” Dante’s head tilts to the side with a questioning crease of his brow, still with that smirk on his infuriatingly gorgeous face.

“Oh, she’s a waitress at the diner in town. We didn’t exactly hit it off last night when Luc and I grabbed dinner.”

With the mention of Luc’s name, Dante's previously playful demeanor and look of amusement are abruptly replaced with a look of what can only be described as anger mixed with a hint of jealousy. That’s weird, considering Dante seemed happy with the work Luca has done. Luc even said Dante has been easy to work with when we talked last night. My face suddenly drops the flush of embarrassment and is replaced by cool indifference as the memories of the rest of the conversation and the evening’s events flash back into my mind.

“How about we go over the design portfolio I’ve put together for you in the kitchen?” I suggest in an effort to move past the uncomfortable silence.

With a curt nod, Dante turns on his heel and walks toward the kitchen. I guess that is the only response I will be getting and my invitation to follow him, which I do.

11

DANTE

Ineed to find a way to control my reactions to Rose saying his name in my presence, which will be a testament to my skills after the information I found last night. How did I miss their connection the first time? I know that information wasn’t there before and must have only recently been released from being suppressed.

They weren’t just friends in high school. They were each other’s only friends and inseparable from the looks of it. They had practically every class together, and in the only photos I can find, they seem to be the only two people in them. At the one dance they went to, they were each other’s dates. I nearly threw my computer monitor across the room when I saw the picture of Luca kissing Rose’s cheek in their prom attire. Rose looked so young but with a maturity that comes from having to grow up too fast. I had to force myself to look through all the new pictures available online of the two of them. However, the pictures abruptly stop right before graduation.

From there, Luca doesn’t pop up again until his article in Architectural Digest, while the only pictures of Rose are from the Franklin & Sons website. I hate that she spent all her time at work instead of making friends, but based on everything I know about her past, I can understand that she was protecting herself. Selfishly, I’m glad she didn’t make time to date either, but I loathe the thought of her feeling alone or unwanted. I want to change that for her. Maybe I can adjust my plans for this job and still accomplish what needs to be done. It’s worth a try.

As I walk into the sparse kitchen, I don’t turn to ensure Rose has followed me. With only two stools around the expansive black-and-white marble kitchen island, there isn’t any other option for where we can sit. At least I can put some space between us so I don’t have to be tempted by the sweet smell of hazelnut and cinnamon that is so perfectly Rose. It’s a warm and cozy scent like cookies straight out of the oven, which is also mouthwatering, just like the vixen in my presence. I know she hasn’t dated much, considering she didn’t go on a single date while I was watching her, but she must know men would fall at her feet if given the chance.

12

ROSE

Iopen my laptop, thankful Dante isn’t sitting too close. After he touched the small of my back, then gripped my elbow, I needed a chance for my heart rate to normalize. Taking a deep breath, I focus on the proposal on my screen and dive into the presentation I have prepared for Dante.

His eyes don’t leave my face as I cover every aspect of his home and the plans I have recommended. I barely have to look at the screen and instead focus my gaze on his as I walk him through each room of the house. I pause a few times and ask if he has questions or feedback, but he largely just agrees with what I’ve put together. I make note of a few items I intentionally left open-ended to get Dante’s input, but overall, his response has been positive. His only questions seem to be around timing and deliveries, and which companies I will be using.

As I’m wrapping up my presentation, I hear the click of the front door, and within a few seconds, Luca strides into the kitchen, carrying two to-go coffee cups in hand—one hot and one iced. I don’t know if I’m ready to face him. Luckily, Dante can act as a buffer between us.