Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
“Dance with me,” he says. His eyes make a final perusal of my body before settling on my face. I recognize his words as a command, not a request. When my eyes seek the path our father’s left down, Enzo uses two fingers to tilt my chin back towards him. “They’ll be busy for a while.”
He stands up and offers me his hand. After a moment of hesitation, I slip mine into his. Without giving me time to second-guess my decision, Enzo is whisking me out onto the dance floor. I don’t have time to protest. My father’s rules are a distant memory as I find myself in the arms of a handsome stranger.
It’s almost laughable how easily I give in to Enzo after years of always listening to my father. I have never been one to challenge authority. It simply isn’t in my nature. The biggest complaint my teachers had about me in class was that I was too quiet. I didn’t take part in discussions, not wanting to voice my opinion in case it was wrong. I never tried to roll my skirts up to show off more leg, and I always did my homework on time. The ultimate goody-two-shoes. Yet when temptation takes such a handsome form, I can’t bring myself to say no.
I thought I was strong enough to withstand enticement, but I have never faced it quite like this.
I’m not a dancer. My school would occasionally host a coed dance with our local all-boys counterpart a town over. I would bounce along to the pop songs with my friends, retreating to the refreshments table whenever a slow song would come on. Occasionally, one of my friends would insist I dance with them. It would be an overdramatic farce of a slow dance, filled with giggling and exaggerated dips. Nothing like the way Enzo dances with me. He holds me close and we move in slow, sensual movements. My lack of coordination does nothing to deter him. He has enough grace for the both of us as he leads me.
“They can’t keep their eyes off you, tesorino,” he whispers into my ear. I’m so distracted by the feel of his hand on my lower back that I almost forget to respond.
“I don’t think I’m the one they’re staring at.”
“You will always be the center of attention.”
We’re surrounded by whispers. I can’t make most of them out, but the ones I can are speculating about me. I’m the outsider here. And he’s not. He’s someone important among these people, and he has chosen to dance with me among all the stunning women here tonight hasn’t slipped their attention. I’m sure this is the exact opposite of what my father would have wanted.
Guilt threatens to creep in, but I do my best to push it far from my mind. Despite knowing my father will be disappointed in me if he can see what’s happening, there’s something magical about the moment. I don’t want to regret the first time I danced with a man, especially not on a night like this.
Enzo doesn’t let go of me for several songs. It’s only when my feet ache and I almost wish I let my father talk me into wearing flats, we leave the dance floor. I can’t wipe the smile off my face as he pulls me into his arms. He passes me my glass of water, and I wish it were something stronger. I don’t drink, not typically. Curiosity has led me to have a few drinks with my friends and an occasional glass of wine with my father for dinner. It just isn’t something that has appealed to me before. I prefer my mind to be sharp. With all the different and conflicting emotions in my chest, I’m willing to try anything to soothe the sharp corners of my mind that catalogs every moment I’m disappointing my father.
Enzo glances at his watch, and I know he’s thinking the same thing I am. Our time together is limited. With every passing moment, our fathers are completing whatever urgent business matter that couldn’t wait the night of a wedding. Enzo has picked up on the fact my father isn’t comfortable with me being here, or at least picked up on the fact I wouldn’t be comfortable with my father seeing me with him.
With one last glance towards the house, Enzo threads his fingers through mine. “Follow me.”
Chapter Four- Emma
He pulls me deeper into the garden. We move away from the lights and the music. When the magic of the night doesn’t fade away with the decor, I realize the party has nothing to do with how I’m feeling. It’s all Enzo.
“The garden is beautiful,” I whisper. It isn’t a comment for anyone besides myself, but Enzo responds anyway.
“The garden is my mother’s pride and joy. Despite having an entire mansion to decorate, she doesn’t care about interior design much. Instead, she puts all her energy into this. We have a full-time staff to maintain it,” he explains to me.