Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
“Francesca, I could never forget you. How are you holding up?”
“I’m perfectly fine,” she snaps. “And you?”
“Better now that I hear your voice. Good day?”
“Better than yesterday, which I consider progress. Not that you would know. Where are you? Where have you been?”
“I’m still at work.” I lean back on the sofa, surprised by her anger. “Let me make it up to you. I’d love to take you out to dinner. Just you and me. You up for putting on a pretty dress and enjoying a meal with me?”
“Oh, so you’re coming home tonight?”
“I am. And I’d love to take you out.”
“Okay, I am kind of hungry.”
“Excellent. I’ll pick you up in an hour, kitten.”
There’s a long pause before she speaks again, and when she does, her voice softens. “I’ll be ready.”
I don’t have much time to prepare, so I get to my feet, calling an associate while I dress in a dark gray suit and a green shirt. I give myself one last look in the mirror before heading out. “I’m gone for the night, Jess. You can leave when you’re finished with whatever it is you’re doing.” I don’t wait for her response. I have an appointment to keep before picking up Francesca.
“Good night,” she calls after me just as the elevator doors slide shut.
Fifty minutes later, I’m standing at the elevator to the penthouse when the doors open, revealing Francesca waiting for me. “You look stunning, Francesca.”
The green velvet dress clings to her curves, skimming mid-thigh and highlighting miles of long, shapely legs. It’s a refreshing change for a woman who usually lives in pantsuits. She’s wearing more makeup than usual, likely to mask the evidence of her earlier tears, but she looks gorgeous. Her big brown eyes glimmer, nearly golden thanks to the dark liner and full lashes.
“Thank you, Damien. You look,” she sighs, shaking her head. “As good as you always do.”
My cock twitches at the look of appreciation she gives me. “Then we’ll be the most beautiful people dining at Spanish Fly.”
Her eyes widen. “Spanish Fly? That new upscale Mediterranean place?” Her smile broadens. “I’ve heard great things about it, but they’re all booked up for the next three months.”
“That’s the beauty of being my pet.” I extend my arm, and she wraps her arm around it, leaning into me. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“I am, actually.” She tells me about her day, mentioning that her partner’s been behaving strangely and that they still have no solid leads on the Butcher of Beverly Hills. “God, how I hate that fucking name!” She lets out a laugh, shaking her head as we walk inside the restaurant.
“I don’t know,” I tease her. “It’s got a nice bit of musicality to it.”
She snorts, staying quiet until we arrive at our private booth. “Musicality? You mean it’s catchy enough to sell papers and get clicks?”
“Sure. Isn’t that what makes the world go ‘round? Money and more money?”
She snort-laughs, and there’s almost no trace of her earlier anger. “I guess you have a point. A small one, but I’ll allow it.”
The dinner is delightful as we chat and laugh while enjoying an exquisite tasting menu crafted by a Michelin-starred chef. Frankie is lively and her cheeks flush a beautiful shade of pink. “Thank you for this, Damien. For somehow knowing what I need and giving it to me.”
Now is the time. “I’m happy to give you everything you need, Francesca. I pray you never want for anything ever again.” She blushes, taking a sip of wine.
“Damien,” she begins.
“I’m serious. I’ve never felt this way about a woman before. I’m not sure I have ever loved anyone other than my sister before, but now I find that I’m protective of you, that I can’t stop thinking about you when we’re not together. And that I want you more and more with each passing day.”
She gasps and licks her lips. “That’s so sweet, Damien.”
No one’s ever accused me of being sweet before and I get off on the fact that she sees me like that. That makes all of this easier. “I like the way I feel when I’m with you, and I think you feel the same.” I reach inside my jacket and pull out a dark blue velvet box, setting it on the table between us. “Francesca DeMarco, will you marry me?” My heart races and I’m nervous, even though I’m certain what the answer will be.
Odd.
Frankie stares at the ring box, now open, her eyes are wide as they settle on the two-carat diamond ring. She runs her finger along the diamonds circling the band and smiles. “Damien, it’s beautiful.”
“You are more beautiful, Francesca. But this ring is a symbol of what I feel for you. Marry me?” I pull the ring from the box and slide it onto her finger. A genuine smile forms on her face. “Oh wow, Damien! This is stunning!”