Before she could come up with a firm plan, he returned with a flute of champagne for her and a Campari for himself. He even offered a congenial smile. After his earlier anger, his sudden equanimity surprised her. She took a sip of champagne and wrinkled her nose at the aftertaste. What in the world…? She’d had this wine before and never experienced the faintly bitter finish she did on this occasion.
He raised his highball glass. “To us.”
Aware that David was waiting for a response, she quickly switched gears and tipped her flute in his direction. “To us,” she hastened to repeat, gently tapping her glass against his and took another tongue-curdling sip of her wine. As much as she preferred to avoid the coming confrontation, she knew she couldn’t. But maybe she could delay her own explanation by taking the offensive. “What’s going on, David?”
“You tell me.” He eyed her over the rim of his glass. Though he’d banked his anger, she could sense it smoldering just beneath the surface. “That wasn’t exactly a familial kiss you exchanged with Romano.”
“We’re old friends.”
“Intimate old friends?”
She couldn’t discern his expression in the darkness of the terrace, but his tone didn’t require the bright light of day to decipher. He was flat-out furious. She took her time responding, sipping her champagne, then wished she hadn’t bothered. She chose her words with care. “We dated,” she admitted. “Very, very briefly.”
“You slept with him.”
Anger rippled through her and she set her flute on the table, the crystal singing against the wrought iron. “That’s none of your business.”
She thought he’d argue the point. He must have reconsidered, because he shrugged. “You’re right. It isn’t,” he conceded. He lifted her glass and handed it to her again, in what was clearly meant to be a peace offering. “I was jealous. Considering that kiss you and Romano exchanged, is it surprising?”
“I guess not.”
She accepted the glass. This time when she sipped, she attempted to analyze what was off about the wine. It wasn’t flat or sour. The carbonation remained strong and crisp, the flavor light and fruity with a hint of yeast. And yet, the bitterness persisted. She made a mental note to check with the caterer. For now, she’d let the problem go and give her full attention to David.
“So, is it over between you and Romano?” David pressed.
“I’m not sure,” she admitted honestly.
It certainly hadn’t felt over, not after that kiss. Her palm itched and she curled her fingers inward, wishing she could ignore the sensation. How many Dantes had described that exact same reaction and attributed it to the connection formed when they’d first touched their soul mate? Every last one of them. She closed her eyes. Since Constantine’s return, the itching had grown progressively more noticeable. She could sit here with David and deny it until dawn broke across the horizon, but it wouldn’t change the facts.
She and Constantine were connected in a way she and David weren’t…and quite possibly never would be, no matter how hard she’d tried to ignite that connection.
“Finish your drink, Gia, and then let’s go.”
The clipped order caught her off guard. Had he seen the regret on her face? “Go? Go, where?”
“For a drive. We need to talk and I’d rather not do it here where Dantes or Romano could burst in on us at any moment.” She caught the gleam of his smile in the darkness. “Besides, it will give everyone time to cool off. Don’t you think that’s the smartest choice?”
Gianna weighed her options. If they stayed, chances were excellent that her family would appear within the next ten minutes with some excuse or another, no doubt one related to business. She toyed with her wineglass and grimaced. Particularly if they tasted the champagne. She didn’t have a single doubt that Constantine would head the parade of invaders. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. She closed her eyes, an unexpected wave of exhaustion settling over her. She couldn’t deal with any of that tonight, she really couldn’t.
“Finish your champagne and let’s go,” David prompted again.