Snapping Point||Book 1

53.

Romano De Rossi

She made it. That was an unexpected turn of events.

The bridge was quiet and cold, which was exactly why I'd chosen it tonight. Getting shot in Paradise had made me more aware, shaking me out of my denial. I wasn't invincible; I needed to be more cautious.

Cars rarely passed by the bridge this late, and using Ottavio's Ford gave me better protection if anyone was following me who knew my usual car.

From my vantage point at the railing, I saw her in a gorgeous, black dress, one that accentuated every curve. She approached with an aura that made it clear I was in for it. Bold and challenging.

Three days without seeing her had me itching for her to close in faster, but she kept dragging along at that snail's pace, like she had all the time in the world. She was a real looker. Was she still holding a grudge, thinking about discussing my confession, or just tossing it out of her mind?

In that moment, a gust of wind swept through, tousling her hair into the air, giving it a bedroom look. She must've just touched up her hair, because the last time she was in my arms, her roots were starting to show, and the shine wasn't as sharp.

Xenia held it to the side, along with her dress that submitted to the screaming wind.

The lights under the bridge threw her small frame into a sharp, beautiful silhouette against the tar. I briefly wondered why she hadn't taken the bridge with her ride, but that worry slipped away as she got close and stopped. No use dwelling on useless details when I had bigger fish to fry.

She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the chill. Without thinking twice, I slipped off my jacket and placed it over her shoulders, adjusting it to shield her arms from the cold.

"Looks like rain," she murmured, staring at the blackened sky. I followed her gaze and nodded. Then she turned to face me, her focus sharp. "Hey, Roe."

My name rolled off her lips in that familiar, seductive and deliberate emphasis. I'd found myself getting attached to it recently.

"Hey, Butterfly."

Her brows drew together. I wondered why she seemed surprised by the nickname, but then it clicked—it was out of character, especially after denying her in front of Ottavio. To her, things had definitely shifted.

A gust of wind swept by, carrying her scent and pushing my drive to its limit. Nostalgia and desire mingled within me. I couldn't pinpoint what it was about the mulberry and cotton candy fragrance that always made me want to hold her tight. It probably always reminded me of things I could indulge in to take my mind off the edge. Another vice, so to say.

If you'd told me before that I'd be captivated by floral scents, I'd have laughed in your face. But something about this woman's charm made her scent intoxicating—whatever spell she was casting, I didn't want it broken. Yeah, I was a fool to think lies to Ottavio would push her away and restore my sanity. There was no damn salvation for me in this. But the truth is, I didn't want salvation if it meant the nonexistence of this.

Her hazel gaze solidified on mine, tiny flecks of light from the street lamp near us were dancing across her vision. It made her look gentler and less confident. "I'm surprised you called."

"I'm surprised you obeyed," I said quickly, because honestly, I hadn't expected her to show up any more than I expected my charm to work its magic.

Xenia shrugged, returning her attention to the sky and then down to the fairly busy road underneath us. "I try to keep my distance, it just...it never works."