Page 29 of For Your Eyes Only
An awkward silence falls between us, and I’m completely deflated. I don’t want him to think of me ascute, but he won’t think of me at all if I’m a snappy brat. I have to be cool, elegant like he is, like the girls in New York.
I wish I had more coffee. Cuban coffee is basically an espresso shot, and I prefer to linger over my favorite, hot beverage.
Sneaking a glance at him, I notice his eyes are lowered. He’s watching my feet. “Cute tattoo. Is that a monarch butterfly?”
Pausing, I look down, tilting my foot side to side. “Yeah.” I smile, doing my best to sound sweet, welcoming. “It reminds me of my mother. She liked to talk about butterflies and metamorphosis.”
“Are you close to your mother?”
“I was, but she died.”
“I’m sorry.” Then he exhales a laugh. “I can’t seem to say the right thing today.”
“You didn’t say anything wrong. I’m the one who nearly took your head off for a compliment.” Crossing his arms, he narrows his eyes at me, but I continue carefully. “I don’t know how to say everything in English. I don’t know the perfect words, so I speak from my heart and hope my feelings translate.”
“You’re very expressive.” His voice is gentler now. My stomach squeezes, and I think he’s stealing little pieces of my heart. “Maybe we could start over?”
“How do we do that?”
“Here.” He lifts his hand, palm open, and I slide mine over it. “How do you do, Miss Rossi? Lovely day for a stroll.”
He gives me a little wink. Another little piece of my heart.
“How do you do, Mr. Alexander? It is nice out today.” Especially with him standing here, holding my hand.
He releases me, and loss filters through my stomach.
“Are you on your way home now? I’ll give you a lift, make sure you get there safely.”
“I’m not sure anywhere is safe with you.”
“Smart girl.” He chuckles. “Seriously, though, I'll give you a ride.”
I can’t accept his offer as much as I want to. “It's okay. I’m not going straight home. I, ahh… have to visit a friend.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Do we know the same people?”
“I know Franco… your friend Bianca. One of the girls from the club?”
“No, just a friend of mine from home.”
“Boyfriend?”
It’s my turn to study him.Does he care?“No.”
“Again, none of my business.” Taking my hand again, he lifts it to his lips for a brief kiss. I feel it all the way to my shoulders, my chest, my stolen heart. “Happy birthday, Gia. Perhaps we’ll cross paths again.”
“I’d like that.” My voice is soft, and I can’t let him slip away. “Would you like my number?”
It’s his turn to hesitate, and what the hell have I done? If he says no, I’ll literally die on the spot. If he says yes and never calls, I’ll die slowly, staring at my phone twenty-four hours a day.
“Sure.” He slides a phone from his pocket and unlocks it. “Enter your digits.”
The image on the front of his phone is a cityscape at night. “Gorgeous,” I note before quickly tapping in my number.
“I’ve always liked it. It’s the view from my apartment in New York.”