Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) - Fiona Cole Page 0,86
assumed it happened because of how we ended up in this situation, but a part of me wondered if there was more.
An awkward silence stretched, and I struggled to fill the void. The day had been nice. We’d talked about the history; he’d explained his favorite parts of Rome, and we ate entirely too much food. We’d been typical tourists, and he’d been kind enough to take pictures of me whenever I asked. He’d even humored me when I asked him to take selfies with me.
It had been…almost easy.
And I didn’t want it to end, so I moved to a safer topic.
“Do you miss work?” I asked.
We sat on the stone edge of the fountain, the splash of water at our backs, and the soft conversation of tourists surrounding us. He considered my question, looking over the fiery sky.
“Yes and no.”
“That clears it up,” I joked.
He breathed a laugh and shook his head. “It’s kind of nice. I thought it would be harder to not be at the office, but I’ve worked my whole life. I studied the business as a teen, taking internships where I could get them. Once I graduated, I worked overtime to build my business and continue my education. I haven’t really stopped.”
“I can’t believe I’m going to ask this, but how old are you?”
He turned to me and smiled. God, his lips were so full. It should have been feminine, but the dark scruff and sharp edges of his face sculpted them into anything but feminine. Nico was all man, and right then, my mind flooded with all the times his lips had been on mine. An ache started low in my stomach to feel them pressed to mine again, and I fought to push it away.
“I guess we skipped some of the getting to know you parts.”
“A little.”
“I’m thirty-five.”
“Oh, my gosh. You’re a cradle robber,” I mock-gasped with my hand to my chest.
He rolled his eyes. “Hardly. You’re twenty-three and plenty adult—all woman.”
His eyes dropped to my chest, and I applauded my choice to wear the padded bra over the lacy bralette. Otherwise, there would have been no hiding how the way he looked at me hardened my nipples to desperate peaks.
“And no vacations in your thirty-five years?”
“A few. Some with Grandpa.”
“Maybe a few trips with all the women you’ve been with?” I asked, trying to make myself believe that Nico probably swooped women away to seduce them, only to leave them. Maybe I’d crave him less if I actually thought he truly was the man who greeted me at the office every day like I was trying to sleep my way to the top.
Instead of a fond smile of his travels like I expected, he snorted. “Hardly.”
“What? Can’t entice any woman away?”
“Oh, no, Verana. I could have had anyone with me,” he said, confidence dripping from his words.
“So, why not take them?”
The arrogant smirk faded, and he studied me again, this time like he was curious and not like he could see through my clothes. My heart thudded at the change, and I held my breath.
“I guess I never found anyone worth traveling with.”
The words stole the breath I’d been clinging to, and my head swam with his words. Did he mean I was worth traveling with? We didn’t have to go on a honeymoon. We could have said our I dos and gone right back to work like normal.
His eyes reached mine, and my body swayed like it had a mind of its own, desperate to taste his lips again.
“A picture?” a heavily accented voice asked.
I blinked, jerking back and looking to the short man, holding up his hands like he would a camera.
“Can you take our picture?” He gestured to the stunning woman behind him. “A few, please,” he clarified.
“Um, sure.”
Nico and I stood up, and the couple took our place. She wrapped her arms around him and looked up into his eyes. I snapped a picture, wanting to capture the moment. Their love so palpable, my heart beat quicker for them. Then he leaned down, and she met him halfway, their lips crashing with passion. He pulled her close and unsure if they wanted such a moment documented, but needing to do so anyway, I continued to click the red button. They glowed in front of the white stone, and blue water illuminated among the darkness. Their love was beautiful, and I hoped they cherished the photos forever.
“Thank you,” he said when they pulled back. “This is my wife. Fifteen