“No, not a kingdom.” And just like that, she kills my dream. “Kingdom is the name of his family’s business. He inherited all the money when he turned twenty-five. And now he’s the new Rivers king,” she says.
“How old is he now?” I ask, my curiosity overtaking my normal abhorrence for gossip.
“He must be thirty … he’s one of the richest men in the freaking world,” she exclaims.
“Really? Why’s he here?”
“His grandmother is friends with the groom,” our little canary says.
“I can’t believe you’ve never heard of him. His return to Houston is all anyone’s talking about,” she says and looks at both of us like we’re crazy.
“I don’t live in Houston,” I say.
“Well, I heard …” Her eyes dart around as if checking for spies and then she leans into us. “Apparently, he had a fight with his ex. And it got physical,” she grimaces. But her eyes are twinkling. “I’m not one to gossip …” she says and Cass and I exchange a yeah, right look.
“But, she was all over the place wearing sunglasses. No one saw her, mind you, and she never said, but it was obvious he roughed her up,” she says.
My lawyer hat comes on and my eyes slide away from the delicious man to her. I make sure there’s no warmth in them and her silly, careless smile falters.
“That’s actually the exact opposite of obvious,” I say dismissively.
“Only if you’re blind. I mean, yeah, he’s nice to look at, but he looks so angry, don’t you think?”
I glance at him, and just then, like he knows what she said, his jaw clenches.
“Well, if people were talking about me like this, I might be angry, too,” I say and Cass pinches me.
“Well, if you think you know better, you can ignore me. But don’t say you weren’t warned,” she says and turns back to the victim on her other side.
As if I need any warning. I can smell a violent man the minute he enters the room. I grew up with them under the same roof. I watched them do more damage than any of the natural disasters that were a way of life for us in the Mississippi Delta.
I lean toward Cass.
“He’s staying on our floor,” I whisper. I can’t take my eyes off him. My whole body is tingling just from looking at him.
“Thank you, God,” I say, pressing my hands together in gratitude.
Cass laughs. “I mean, he does clean up nicely, but he looks like he’d be more comfortable in a boxing ring than on a dance floor,” she says.
“Yes, exactly,” I practically purr before I take another sip of my gin and tonic. My thighs clench when I think about how rough things could get.
“His nose doesn’t look like it’s been broken, though,” she muses.
“No one’s perfect,” I joke and take a final swig of my drink.
“Enjoy. My fantasy Italian fling is more in the style of Jude Law in the Talented Mr. Ripley. He looks like he could eat Jude Law in a single bite.”
“Or me,” I drawl with a wink and stand up. I run my hands down my dress.
Cass grabs my arm and yanks me back down in my seat. “Where in the world are you going? You are not going to approach him,” she says as if scandalized.
I glance over at her and grin, because I am so going to approach him.
“You never approach anyone. You’re still getting over Nigel. Who are you?” she asks, green eyes wide with surprise.
“I’m Confidence Ryan, and I’m about to go climb my very own Mt. Olympus,” I say with a suggestive waggle of my eyebrows.
“Are you drunk?” she asks when I start to stand up again.
“Yes, but so what?” I say.
“You’ll regret it in the morning,” she frets.
“Maybe …” I shrug.
“This isn’t you.” She peers up at me.
“Again, so what?” I shrug off her questions. “I’m in Italy. I’m single. And I think that if I’m ready to walk over and put my ass on a table for another man to make a meal of me, then I might be over Nigel,” I say.
“True facts,” she says with an enthusiastic nod.
“And if I have regrets … then, at least it will be for something worth regretting. I want to know what that kind of regret feels like,” I say in a moment of rare vulnerability.
“Okay,” she says, relenting in her attempts to stop me. Even if she doesn’t quite sound convinced.
“Just be safe. Get your own drinks and drop your glass so it shatters if you need a rescue,” she says and takes a sip of her drink.
“I won’t be breaking any glasses. If I need a rescue, I’ll do it myself.” A sudden bolt of doubt flashes through my mind.
This is very unlike me.
I self-consciously glance down at myself.
“Do I look okay?” I cast a sheepish glance at Cass. My bravado has failed me now that I’m about to walk the walk.
“You look better than okay. You look wonderful,” she says with all of the sincerity of a dutiful and loving friend who would never say anything other than how wonderful I look.
I lose my nerve and lower myself back into my seat. I grab my wine and take a moody, resentful sip.
Cass puts her drink down and grabs my forearm.
“What happened?” Her dark brows are furrowed in concern. “I thought you were off to get laid.”
I sink down in my seat and pout.
“Why in the world would he be interested in me? She said he’s filthy rich or something. He’s young and hot, too. Do you know how rare that is? I bet he’s engaged to marry one of those princesses—Eugenie or whatever.” I fling my hand in his direction, but my eyes are fixed on the drink I’m lifting back to my lips.
“If he is, then I feel sorry for her because he’s going to be leaving here with the hottest woman in the room,” she says with a little too much enthusiasm. And I roll my eyes.
“Confidence, you’re a catch,” she exclaims.
I give her a disbelieving look. “Oh yeah, I know thousands of eligible, sexy men who are beating a path to be with a broke, failed lawyer whose family is a poster for dysfunction,” I say grumpily.
“That’s not all you are,” she whispers fiercely, squeezing my arm. I chuckle—it’s humorless, short and dry.
“Well, I’m glad you agree that it’s some of what I am,” I quip and take another swig of my wine.
“For God’s sake, one lost job doesn’t mean you failed,” she cajoles.
I throw her a glance. “I was almost disbarred.”
“That was all that fucking Nigel’s fault,” she reminds me.
“True. But it’s certainly not his fault that I’ve spent sixty percent of my life savings in the last three months. A good chunk of it on this last minute, incredibly glamorous vacation. Who doesn’t find a financially irresponsible spendthrift irresistible?”
“You think anyone worthy of you will care about any of that?” Cass asks me softly.
“One of us will have to care. Even a lifetime of sex with that beautiful man won’t make up for my flagrant disregard for budgets.”
She chuckles. “Now you’re just being dramatic. At least you have your life savings. If I lost my job, I would have to move back home with my parents after one month,” she says and nudges me with her shoulder.