Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72973 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72973 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Renzo gives me an incredulous look. “You’re not able to find her? Seriously?”
“I’ve been checking the CCTV cameras in the area, and a couple of the shots I’ve managed to find of her never show her face.”
The corner of Renzo’s mouth lifts slightly as he says, “The fact that you’ve tried to track her down tells me you have a serious hard-on for the woman.”
I let out a burst of laughter before taking a sip of my drink. Swallowing the strong alcohol, I shrug. “It won’t be the end of the world if I don’t find her. I’m just intrigued to find out more about her.”
Renzo’s gaze narrows on me. “If you say so.”
Skylar coming out of the kitchen with a tray of food draws our attention.
“Hi, Dario,” she greets me with a smile.
A smile curves my lips as I climb to my feet, and after she places the tray on the table, I lean in to give her a quick hug.
“Hey. How are you doing, bellissima?” I ask, using the term of endearment to get a reaction from Renzo.
“Stop calling her that,” he growls as he grips his woman’s hand so he can tug her closer to him.
Laughing at my friend, I sit down again and grab my bowl of spicy Korean brisket.
“Damn, it smells mouthwatering,” I compliment Skylar.
“Wait until you taste it,” Renzo says with pride on his face.
“I need to get back to the kitchen,” Skylar mentions. She presses a kiss to Renzo’s mouth before leaving.
I dig into my food, and on my second bite, Renzo digs a small box out of his pocket. Opening it, he asks, “What do you think of the ring?”
I almost choke as I swallow, and unable to resist, I exclaim, “Oh my God. I thought you’d never ask.”
When I reach for the box, Renzo slaps my hand away and mutters, “It’s for Skylar, dipshit.”
Laughing, I take a closer look. “I think she’ll love it. When are you proposing?”
“I’m not. I’m going to ask her to be my girlfriend. Plus, there's a tracker in the ring, so I can track her at all times.”
“So romantic,” I drawl. Pretending to be Renzo, I mock him, “Here’s a tracker, bellissima. It’s a token of my undying obsession with you.”
He scowls at me as he tucks the small box back into his pocket. “I’m not going to say it like that. I’ve even ordered flowers.”
“I’m just fucking with you,” I say. “The ring is beautiful, and I think it’s cute that you’re asking her to be your girlfriend when you’ve already been dating for months.”
“Cute, my ass,” he grumbles. Glaring at me again, he adds, “Not everyone is as romantic as you.”
I wag my eyebrows at him. “I know. That’s what makes me such a catch.”
“Yet, your ass is still single,” he taunts me.
“By choice.” To rile him up again, I add, “I let you have Skylar.”
A dark frown settles on my friend’s face. “The fuck you just say?”
When I start to laugh, Renzo reaches across the table in an attempt to slap me upside the head, but I jerk away just in time to avoid his hand.
He settles back in his chair and mutters, “You can be glad you’re one of my favorite people, or you’d be dead right now.”
Renzo’s phone begins to ring, and as he pulls the device out of his pocket, he gets up and says, “Enjoy the rest of your meal.”
I nod, and as he walks toward the back where the offices are so he can take the call, I continue eating.
I’m surprised Renzo’s not asking Skylar to marry him, but then again, they’ve only known each other a few months and had one hell of a rocky start.
I’m more like Angelo in that regard. When I find the woman I want to spend my life with, I’ll tie her to me as quickly as humanly possible.
My elusive dancer pops into my mind’s eye, and tapping my fingers on the table’s surface, I wonder if I’ll get to see her again or whether I scared her off for good with the kiss.
Chapter 7
Eden
Walking up the street toward the ballet company, I pull my jacket tighter around me in an attempt to ward off the cold front that hit New York early this morning.
It’s colder than usual for this time of year, which means we’re going to shit ice blocks this winter.
Suddenly, an expensive sports car with dark-tinted windows comes to a screeching stop a couple of feet ahead of me, and when the driver’s door opens, and a man steps out, I freeze in my tracks.
Shit. Dario.
I spin around and walk as fast as I can away from him, but I only manage a few steps before he darts in front of me. He grips hold of my arm, his hold a little too tight for my liking.