“Cornelia,” says Matteo from behind me. “Go.”
He doesn’t have to ask twice. She slinks off the bed with her tail between her legs and curls up into a big black ball on the blankets, hiding her eyes under a paw.
“It’s not eight o’clock yet.” I toss my handbag onto the dresser and turn around to look at him. He’s leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, smiling like he’s on vacation.
Ignoring my comment, he says, “I love you in that dress. You look like a movie star.” His eyes take a stroll around my figure, lingering on my breasts and legs before wandering back up to my face. He murmurs, “The color matches your eyes.”
Trying valiantly to ignore the words I love you hanging in the air like a lit stick of dynamite, I run my hands nervously down the cinched waist of the
