“Alex. And what do you do, Alex?” His beautiful accent tap danced over every word.

Next to her, Paul had started an intense conversation with Sophie in an obvious effort to give the two of them some privacy. They chatted away while Danial looked across the table, tearing at a small piece of bread.

“I…” she had to think about it for a minute. “I work in politics.”

“That is fascinating, what do you do in politics?”

Although Paul had clearly instructed Enzo to be as curious about her as possible, it was nice to have a man take interest in her work.

“I work in digital media strategy. I basically help our candidates reach new potential voters.”

“This is very important work,” he intoned, deadly serious.

“And what about you?” She leaned in slightly as he poured her a glass of water, still not quite believing he was real.

“I work in fashion. For Max Mara.”

“Wow, that’s cool—do you like it?”

“I love it.” He smiled. “I love making women look beautiful.”

The two of them slipped into easy conversation: undisturbed by the arrival of Bee, Dev, and Guy; unaware of the waiters flitting around them. They sipped their Aperol spritzes with cheeky abandon as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, only breaking eye contact when absolutely necessary. It didn’t matter his motives, or whether Paul really had overhyped her oral skills—Enzo moved with the kind of ease and certainty that begged to be followed.

She barely noticed as his hand snaked around the back of her chair, as he leaned in closer to ask about her perfume. When her pashmina slipped off her shoulder, he brought it back up; when she mentioned that his appetizer looked good, he offered her a bite, meeting her eyes with intensity as she took it from his fork.

“Time to come up for air, babe.” Paul nudged her as a waiter set the main courses in front of them with a choreographed flourish.

“I’m here,” she replied, a little too insistently. She smoothed her napkin on her lap, taking a sip of water. “What’s up?”

“We’re talking about the elections,” Dev explained, nodding a thank you to the departing waiter. “What’s your take?”

“My… take?” She struggled to get her bearings, still flush with Enzo’s attention. His fingertips remained on her lower back as she spoke. “On which race?”

“All of them,” Bee answered, reaching her fork for a bite of Dev’s lasagna. “But especially your boy, is he going to win?”

“Carter.” She cleared her throat. “Congressman Stephens is running a very strong campaign, but he’s running against an incumbent.”

“She doesn’t work for him,” Danial interjected, rather theatrically. He leaned back as a waiter refilled his wine with a generous pour. “She works for his party.”