On a small stage in the ballroom, standing next to her father as they listened to the Count speak into a microphone to the crowded room, Presley couldn’t have been less interested in the sea of smiling faces looking up at them. Her father had insisted she join him, the Count, the Countess, Hobie’s father, and Hobie on stage to officially open Villa Pallotta, but all Presley could think about was Hobie’s hands on her waist pulling her into him. How close their lips had been to touching. The sensation of his cheek under her fingertips.
“….and, of course, everything that went with it,” the Count turned to look at her with a big smile. A murmur of laughter moved through the room and Presley realized he must have been saying something about her, but she had stopped listening. Hoping that he di
