It is my engagement, but for some reason, she is more excited than I am. Twirling the wine in the glass, I watch her offer the guests a glass with a charming smile. She’s in uniform—black suit pants, white buttoned shirt, flats. It’d be skirts, but I ordered the skirts away. I can’t go around killing every man who sees her ass in them.
Still…
Where she walks, heads turn. She has no makeup or jewelry on, but she outshines every woman in the room. She could be modeling rags and still look stunning.
“Sir?”
My eyes reluctantly shift from the outline of her swinging hips to Adrianna’s glowering gaze. “Your fiancée is that way,” she speaks in Italian, inclining her head to the center of the room, where Valentina giggles, surrounded by a horde of drinking Italian wives and a couple of her fri
