The second he said the words, my mouth fell open. I held the gorgeous bottle up, in front of my face, examining it, and out came a mystified, “High end champagne.”

My stomach flip-flopped.

Well, I guess that answered one question.

Well, it was undeniable now. Ettore had indeed been watching me.

A slow smile spread across my face but my brow dipped low.

How did he manage it?

Even incommunicado, in radio silence, he was flirting with me, and doing a good job.

I couldn’t help but be impressed.

Marco’s eyes narrowed on me. “I feel like I’m missing a major part of the story here. Do I even want to know?”

I shook my head, but that smile remained. I grew a little shy when I stated, “It’s a personal joke.”

And Marco’s brows rose as he asked an incredulous, “You and Tor have jokes now?”

The bottle sparkled in the sunlight. Suddenly, my chest expanded and I breathed so much easier. “Apparently.”

I brought the bottle inside, took it from its box and placed it carefully into the refrigerator. I closed the door gently and gave quiet pause before speaking out loud. “I know I earned it, but I’ll save it for when you come to visit.”

My soft smile drooped momentarily. Some of my happiness ebbed as I asked, “You are coming to visit, aren’t you?”

My heart felt strangled and I felt my ego dissolve into a puddle at my feet when I all but begged, “Please visit.”

* * *

Days passed and we were now approaching mid-April. It was a beautiful, warm day.

I heard the front door open as I began the short walk downstairs. “Marco?” My hair was still wet from the shower I’d taken. I ran my fingers through it and the cute little floral, long sleeved day dress stuck to my thighs as I called out, “So long as you’re in the kitchen, could you pour me a mug?” Still tired from the night before, I muttered under my breath, “I hope it’s strong enough to kickstart a car because need it.”

Barefoot and breezy, I didn’t even look up when I entered the kitchen, but saw the tall silhouette by the counter. Without pausing, I sashayed over to the cabinet by the fridge, opened it and pulled out two dessert plates. “I’ll cut you a piece of cake.” I closed the cabinet and said, “It’s chocolate. I’m pretty sure I messed up somewhere so it’s a little on the dense side, but it’s still cake so I’d rate it a six. Seven if you’re feeling generou-”