“Hello. Sorry for leaving you like that. Everyone has something to say about the race,” Vanni replied, his gaze running over her face and then flicking over to Mario. “But I promise I won’t leave your side for the rest of the night. Excuse us, Mario.”
“Are you off to the tables?” Mario called, but Vanni didn’t respond. He just led Emma onto the terrace, which had cleared out. It was a warm, starry night, a full moon in the sky making a swath of the sea gleam and wink. The band had stopped playing and was starting to pack up their instruments. Vanni left her, approached one of the men, and exchanged a handshake with him.
“Encore une chanson, s’il vous plait?” Vanni asked quietly.
The man looked down appreciatively at his palm. “Avec plaisir, monsieur.”
The musicians all took up their instruments again and at a signal from the leader began playing. Vanni came toward her, a small, devastating smile shaping his mouth. A thrill went through her when he took her into his arms and they began to dance. She looked up at him as he pulled her closer, her smile matching his.
“Do you always do things perfectly?” she asked softly.
“What do you mean?”
“They’re playing ‘Moonlight Serenade,’” she said with a small laugh, glancing significantly out at the moonlit water.
“It’s not me who is perfect tonight,” he murmured. Her breath caught when his lips closed gently over hers and lingered as they spun to the music. Her flesh tingled next to his solid length. It was pure magic.
“I’m sorry for leaving you. It seems every time I turned around, someone has a question or something to say about the race,” he said a moment later.
“Don’t worry. I understand. This is your work. Niki kept me company.”
“I saw. I asked him to watch out for you.”
“Did you?” she asked, entranced by the image of his angled, bold face etched in shadow and moonlight and the feeling of his body moving in subtle rhythm next to hers.
He nodded, his expression sober. “And then I got jealous when I saw him doing it,” he growled softly, capturing her lips aga
in for another kiss. She felt his body harden next to hers, and the kiss deepened.
“You have absolutely nothing to be jealous of,” she told him breathlessly a moment later. “All I can see is you, Vanni.” One dark brow rose in a wry expression.
“For these weeks and days and hours?” he asked, a thread of sarcasm in his tone. One of his hands lightly skimmed over her lower back and the top of a buttock. Emma shivered.
“For these weeks and days and hours.”
“You’re mine.”
She smiled and pressed closer to him. “You know it’s true,” she chided.
“I still like to hear you say it.”
“I’m yours,” she whispered. His head lowered, and their mouths fused again.
* * *
“Almost everyone will have gone into the casino,” Vanni said as he led her through the mostly deserted restaurant after the memorable dance was over. “Would you like to stroll through before we leave, or would you rather not?”
“I’d like to at least have a look,” she said as they entered the palatial grand lobby of the hotel, and Emma glanced around eagerly. Vanni’s stare stuck on her face.
“Of course. I keep forgetting you haven’t been here before,” he said.
“I’ve never even been to Europe,” she said.
“What?” he asked, his stride breaking slightly.
“It’s my first time. I have a passport because I was supposed to go to London for a trip arranged through my college after graduation. But then my mother died, so I never got to go. She had a small life-insurance policy, but funerals are a lot more expensive than I’d realized.”
He didn’t say anything as he led her to the entrance. There was a line to enter the casino, but Vanni surpassed it. The burly man wearing a tuxedo guarding the entrance nodded once at them and murmured, “Mr. Montand,” before releasing a velvet rope for them to enter.