Luca doesn’t say anything, just leaves the car and heads toward the building. One of the security guys exits the other car, but Luca motions with his hand for him to get back inside. A couple of minutes later, he returns and drops a package of wet wipes onto my lap.
I look at the package, then up at my husband, who sits with his elbows on the wheel, staring through the windshield. Slowly, I take a wipe and proceed with cleaning my face. “Are we waiting for someone?”
“Yes. For you to start talking, Isabella.”
“Jesus Christ.” I throw the used wipe into my purse and close the small bag. Why won’t he just leave it alone?
As far as I’m concerned, we can stay here all night because there’s no way I’m telling him I was so f*****g affected and happy to have him kiss me in front of everyone. Li
