“Honey,” he says again, this time more of a growl as he explodes inside of me, one last hard buck as he sinks all the way in until he’s completely spent.
Giuseppe gradually lowers himself, falling to the side on this fine bedspread we’ve just sullied. Something about that is so delightfully filthy, a wicked smile comes to my face as I turn to curl into his side.
“I think that definitely deserves champagne.”
“I think that deserves a whole lot more than champagne,” he says with a grin as his arm comes around me.
* * *
We’ve finally gotten around to ordering room service, yes, with champagne. Just for me, it’s Veuve Clicquot Rosé, which means he’s allowed me the lion’s share.
We’re both in fluffy bathrobes, being that neither of us wanted to get dressed again.
The fantastic dinner is nothing but scraps and we linger over the rapidly melting ice cream sundae (no need to get too fancy).
“You could have got what you prefer to drink. I only order the rosé because I like the color.”
“Nonsense,” he says, causing both of us to grin. “I wanted to make this special, just for you.”
My smile goes so wide it hurts.
“Besides, I had to make up for Valentine’s Day somehow. Hopefully this worked out better for you than Indian food and beer.”
“I happen to love Indian food and beer, mister. Don’t feel you have to go all out for me. I was raised on grits and chitlins.”
“Chitlins, isn’t that—?”
“Yes, it is, and let’s change the topic right about now,” I say with a laugh, sitting back to drink from my glass. “It was a nice event. I enjoyed having a chance to dress up.”
“Speaking of topics to avoid, let’s drop ABC as well.”
“You really don’t like it there do you?” I say with a laugh. “Have you thought about applying your skills elsewhere?”
Giuseppe wrinkles his brow. “If I didn’t work at a firm what would I do?”
“Lots of attorney’s have their own practice.”
Giuseppe snorts out a laugh. “Chasing ambulances isn’t exactly what I signed up for.”
“Ohh,” I say with a frown. “That sounded just a bit snobby.”
He winces then grins. “I suppose. But, working for myself…it sounds nice in theory, but the money I make I help my family out with. Besides, it would take a huge chunk just to get started on my own.”
“Show business is nothing but contracts. I could ask Frankie to set you up with something. If you’re that good, I mean,” I say with a taunting smile.
“I am,” he says with a grin.
“You’re so sexy when you’re confident.”
“That’s all the confidence boost I need. As for show business,” a frown forms on his face. “That world is so foreign to me. I could easily apply the law, especially with contracts, but there would still be a learning curve when it comes to the industry itself.”
“Fortunately you have me to help walk you through it.”
“Speaking of which,” he says, leaning in closer. “When do I finally get to see you perform?”
I pull my champagne glass away and study him.
After tonight, I have no doubt that Giuseppe adores me. And I don’t want anything standing between us.
Having experienced deception and betrayal at the hands of Francis, I’m not happy about doing the same with Giuseppe.
“Tuesday night,” I say, with a firm nod. “I want you to come see me.”
“Perfect,” he says, his face lighting up.
“I’m off Monday so I can bring you a ticket then.”
“Let’s make it a full-fledged date. We need to make up for last week when I didn’t see you at all.”
“Sounds good,” I say with a smile.
“I’ll finally get to see the mysterious Honey Dewberry in all her glory. I’m really looking forward to it.”
My smile tightens, wondering exactly what he will in fact make of Honey Dewberry…in all her glory.
Chapter Twenty-Seven Giuseppe
Monday morning, I’m one of the few people on the subway that seems to be in a sunny mood. The weather is sleeting and the trains are running even later than usual, but I might as well be lying on a beach in Tahiti.
Tonight, I’m meeting Honey for what I suppose is our first real date.
Tomorrow, I get to see her perform.
It isn’t lost on me that she had a tendency to do this to my mood those mornings we happened to cross paths with one another.
I can only imagine what it would be like if I woke up next to her every morning.
I’m so lost in that idea that I almost miss my stop.
I squeeze my way out and take the long stairway up two at a time in the Whitehall exit. I brave my way through the cold, wet weather and head straight for the coffee room once I get to ABC.
There are few things that could darken my mood today and three of them manage to arrive at the same time, as usual.
Honey told me word for word what her exchange with Todd was at the gala. We both had a good laugh over it.
If Todd is still sore about it, it certainly doesn’t show on his face, which has that irritating sneer he always sports around me. It seems even more smug than usual this morning.
“I was hoping to catch you early. You disappeared from the gala Saturday. I’m guessing maybe your date had to work?”
For some reason that seems especially amusing to the three of them.
“My date was just fine. How about yours?” I ask, casting a glance at both Vaughn and Andrew, then returning a taunting smile to Todd.
A brief look of irritation flashes across his face. “My date, Margot, happened to enjoy herself, thank you very much—and managed to at least keep her clothes on.”
I have no idea what that little detour about clothes is about. Does he know that Honey and I got a room at The Plaza?
“Perhaps if you
