His eyes narrowed at me, looking me up from head to toe in a slow almost seductive manner. I tried my best not to shudder from the intensity in his glassy blue orbs. I watched as he slowly licked his lips, curving them into a sly smile.
"Mr Villanu...
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"Dante I need your help!" Vincenzo burst through the door of my study.
"What the hell happened?" I asked with a raised brow. I stared at him with concern.
Vincenzo was just as cold of a man as I was. We never showed any sign of weakness. Nothing. However, right now, Vincenzo looked like a scared boy.
"Amara's preschool just called! They said something about a father-daughter dance! I don't even know what that is!" Vincenzo rambled as he paced back and forth. "What do I wear? Will the other fathers judge me? What will Amada wear?"
"Woah, woah. Calm down." I walked over to Vincenzo and placed my hand on his shoulder to stop his pacing.
"You know I do not do good with crowds," Vincenzo cried out. "I'll scare the shit out of the other kids."
Who was this man in front of me?
The Vincenzo I knew would have never acted like this. He was a complete stranger right now. Vincenzo stared at me with a vulnerable expression as he bit his nails nervously.
"When is this father-daughter dance?" I asked.
"Tomorrow," Vincenzo mumbled. "You have to accompany me. What if I freak out and punch somebody?"
"You're overthinking it," I remarked. "Just be cool. It's just a dance."
"It's not just a dance." Vincenzo frowned. "This is my very first dance with my little girl. It has to be special and perfect. I cannot and will not let her down."
"Alright," I sighed in defeat. "But I do not see how I can help by coming."
"Oh, you're also going to help me by picking out what I should wear. And, we are taking Amara shopping." Vincenzo said as a matter-of-fact.
What did I get myself into?
***
"What about this one, princess?" Vincenzo picked out one of the many dresses that our assistant had lined up.
"Nope," the four-year-old shook her head.
I sunk into my seat as I pinched the bridge of my nose. I loved my dear niece to pieces, but she was every bit like her mother. Very picky and stubborn.
"But it is turquoise. You're favorite color," Vincenzo whined.
"My new favorite color is mw-mauve!" Amara stomped her small feet on the ground.
Yep, every bit like her mother.
"What the hell is a mauve?" Vincenzo turned to me with a puzzled expression. I gave him the 'how am I supposed to know' look.
