“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His tone was almost teasing.
Heat raced across my cheeks. If I didn’t get my urges under control, no one would believe I was interested in Cal, especially if I looked at Preston the way I wanted to. I leaned toward Cal like maybe if I physically aligned myself with him, my body would take the damn hint and do the same.
“Calvin has been saying the most wonderful things about you,” Kelly told Preston.
“He was just being modest,” Preston said. “I’m more wonderful in person.”
Everyone laughed and the conversation picked back up again, with Kelly asking questions ranging from political to personal. I could tell I wasn’t the only one struck by his charm. Kelly positioned herself a little too close to Preston, placing her hand on his forearm and listening to him like every word was gold.
“I’m going to get myself a drink,” I announced to Cal. “Would you like something?” I needed to get away. And maybe if he had a drink and loosened up even a little, this would all be easier to handle.
“Nothing for me, thank you. Allow me to get your drink. What would you like?”
I fought back the urge to sigh and roll my eyes. Of course, he wouldn’t even have one drink. Of course, he’s too much of a gentleman to let me get something on my own.
“No.” The word came out too forcefully. “I mean, you need to stay here. Look at them. They’re loving your . . . friend. And you are why they are here, after all. You should stay.”
Cal smiled and nodded. “You’re already turning out to be an exceptional partner.”
I felt myself cringe inside. This was like a rollercoaster. Why did he have to say things like that? Exceptional partner? Seriously?
As I made my way through the crowd, I cursed Preston’s piercing blue eyes. But I knew my frustration was misplaced. It was my fault for bumping into him. If only I hadn’t fallen on top of him, the whole awkward situation could’ve been avoided.
“I thought you might want some company.” Preston came up beside me before I arrived at the bar. A part of me realized I wasn’t even startled by his presence. As if maybe I knew he would follow.
“Sure.” I tried to sound as uninterested as possible while still remaining polite.
When we reached the bar, I found a small open spot off to the side and leaned onto the counter for support. All the pretending was becoming too much to bear.
Preston squeezed into the open sliver of space next to me. I stared ahead, but I could feel his eyes on me, waiting for me to acknowledge him.
“I’d like to order you another champagne, but those flutes are like weapons in your hands.”
I laughed, despite myself. “I promise to keep it safely on the bar this time.”
“In that case”—he gestured to the bartender—“two champagnes, please.” Our drinks were poured and delivered quickly; Preston tipping the barkeep. “So, Tessa Moretti, what brings you to this fundraiser?”
I needed a second to think, so I took a sip. I had this rehearsed. I knew what to say. But being around him made me . . . I composed myself, turning back to my rehearsed answers. “Calvin. I’m here to support him. I think he’ll make an outstanding president.”
“I agree. And I’ll make an outstanding vice president. I’d like to maybe convince you of that over dinner.”
“There’s no need for that. If Cal has selected you, I’m sure you’re more than qualified.” My own response surprised me.
“Okay, then, enough about politics, tell me something about you.” Preston leaned in closer, like he couldn’t wait for my answer.
“I hate to break it to you, but politics are my life. I study it, I teach it, and I research it.” I took another sip of champagne, feeling calmer but wishing I had something stronger to slam back.
“Brains and beauty. You’re turning out to be a dangerous woman, Tessa.”
The tenor of his voice was seductive, and I desperately wanted his attention off me. “Tell me something about you.”
He glanced from left to right conspiratorially. “Even though politics are my life too—and I’m very good at it—I hate schmoozing. I’d much rather be at home reading.”
“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a reader,” I blurted out. As soon as I said the words, I wished I could put them back in my mouth. But he didn’t react as I tried to cover up my blunder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that in a rude way. I just meant that you seem more like a social butterfly.” Something about Preston completely disarmed me. He made me want to say whatever I was thinking. The look on his face as we spoke wasn’t judgmental or expectant.
“What makes you say that?” His knee grazed mine once, twice, before he left his leg nearly flush against mine. I didn’t move away.
“Just look at you. That hair, those eyes, the fit of that shirt. It doesn’t scream bookish.” The words come out before I can stop them. My brain was screaming at me again to stop. The message was received all too late.
“I’m going to take that as a compliment, Tessa.” He laughed. “But in all honesty, I love to read. I’ve acquired quite an impressive library over the years.” Preston let his hand casually rest on top of mine on top of the bar. “I’d love to show it to you.”
I stood at a precipice, and if I let Preston’s advances go too far, I would never come back from it. I no longer lived in a world where I could do whatever I wanted; I had a promise to keep to my family. I had a job to do and I couldn’t forget that.
“I don’t think so.”
I pushed away from the bar and left Preston standing there. His invitation to get to know him was too tempting and if I stayed much longer I would’ve given in to it. I wanted to give in.
I made my way back out to the lobby to find Jimmy sitting on one of the plush chairs playing on his phone.
“Oh, hey, I . . . I didn’t realize it was time. Are ready to go? I’ll bring the car to the front,” he said when he finally saw me.
“Are you parked in the garage?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Because I need you to fuck me as soon as possible.”
Chapter 4
Sunday was always for family dinners.
“You’ve outdone yourself, Mama,” I said in Italian.
“I wanted to make all your favorites.” She placed a platter of manicotti on the overly full table. “Your father says we have a lot to celebrate.”
I finished filling the last glass of table wine and passed it to my oldest brother, Giovanni.
Between my four older brothers and all the food at the hearty dining room table, there was scarcely room for another morsel.
There used to be room for more, though. There used to be a whole other person in our family. We still made space for her at the table; the empty seat next to me proof of that.
“We do,” my father says.
He sat at the head of the table dressed in a shirt and tie like he might have business to attend to any moment. He probably did. My mother already made up his plate for him, serving him first, as always. As soon as he took his first bite, Mama and I took our seats and my brothers started helping themselves to the feast on the table. The waiting for our father to go first was just a simple sign of respect.