Voices enter the room and I turn to find Lorenzo Damone entering. The big man kind of gives me a rough and tumble vibe, in a scary way. With his wide shoulders, dark beard and long hair, he looks like a big bear. Daria is beside him, her hand tucked into the elbow of his arm. Somehow, they look far apart even standing so close. And it wouldn’t take a genius to note that there is zero spark between the two.
Even now, they look more like brother and sister if anything. And as soon as they get a couple of feet into the room, Lorenzo lowers his arm and Daria withdraws her hand. Lorenzo inches away from her slowly before completely forgetting about her as he approaches Giovanni.
Giovanni rises to his feet and the two men shake hands.
Polo saunters into the room next, his gaze moving around. When his eyes stop on me, I freeze and he gives me a crooked grin before his attention moves elsewhere. Lorenzo and Giovanni are in a full conversation now and Vito joins in. Polo keeps his distance, moving up to the glass and taking in the view of the stadium.
“Are you a fan?” Daria asks with a sigh as she slides up next to me.
“Not at all.”
“Me either,” she says, shaking her head. “Think we can ditch them and go on a shopping spree?” she asks and I can’t tell if she’s joking or not.
“You know you’re not free to roam right now, birdie, you’ve got appearances to make,” Polo says, stepping up next to us. His gaze only flits over me before he goes back to watching Daria. “Illusions to keep up.”
Daria folds her arms over her chest and the sudden hostility in her gaze has me wondering if something has happened since the last time I saw her. She was running from Polo at the last party, but her anger wasn't like this. “I don’t recall asking you, Poland.”
Despite her tone, Polo only appears amused. “I thought I told you I didn’t like that little nickname of yours, Daria,” he muses.
Daria doesn’t supply him with a response.
“The quiet game then, I thought you were a bit too old for that,” he moves in closer to her. He leans in, his lips close to her ear and even though he keeps his tone low, I hear him when he says, “If that’s the game you want to play, then so be it.”
Daria’s body visibly racks and she pointedly aims her gaze at the ground.
Polo chuckles, pulling away from her. “You two enjoy the game then,” he drawls. “And get rid of any ideas of ditching.” He moves away from us.
Daria’s gaze follows him, her jaw clenched tightly.
“You look murderous,” I tell her, my brows pulling together. The look is off putting on the usually bubbly woman.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says lowly before turning away from me.
I leave her be, a little disappointed that I won’t at least have her cheerfulness to get me through the day. Every time I see her and Polo I become more and more curious about their situation. They clearly can’t be together, since she’s in an agreement to marry Lorenzo. But the tension that enters the room when they’re by each other is thick.
I turn when a hand is placed in the small of my back, thoughts of Polo and Daria gone. My breath rushes out of my lungs when I turn and find Vito standing just behind me.
Things have been tense between us since that day in the kitchen a week ago. Whenever he sees me, he gives a curt, emotionless nod. Otherwise, he keeps his distance and I let him.
“Sorry,” he says lightly, his hand still on me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” His thumb rubs circles into my skin and tingles burn my skin. “It’s time to get seated,” he says, inclining his head toward the seats where Giovanni is already sitting. Lorenzo is seated next to him.
My mouth is dry as Vito continues to touch me and when I look up at him, mouth slightly open, his brows furrow together.
I step out of his touch and he seems to finally realize what he was doing. He balls his hand into a fist at his side.
I turn away from him and move over to the open seat next to Giovanni. He looks over at me when I sit, his eyes snagging on my thighs which are exposed from the dress I’m donning today.
His gaze burns into me longer than it needs to and when he lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine, I don’t miss the hunger in them.
My body flushes.
Lorenzo says something to him and his attention shifts away from me.
I pop my elbow on the arm rest between my chair and Giovann’s, resting my chin in my palm. I try to ignore the heat of his body and the way his arms brushes against mine every time he moves.
The national anthem commences as players stand on the field with their hand on their heart. And after that everything seems to move in slow motion.
Somebody has just mentioned that we’re at the top of the fifth inning when my bladder starts to fill like it’s going to burst.