Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Who knew?
Either way, she loved it.
A proper Donati principessa.
Of course.
And none of these people surrounding her expected anything less. It was the same reason why there was a silver Porsche with a large pink bow sitting out in the driveway. A gift from her father. And a week-long trip to Sicily from her mother to go with her new Versace dresses and Louboutin heels from her grandmother, Catrina.
Some might call her spoiled.
Maybe she was.
Cece just liked to say she was loved.
“Make a wish,” chanted around the large dining room.
As many people that could had filled the space entirely. All her family—grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins. Her brother, their parents, and all her friends. Maybe for her sixteenth, she could have done something more grown up for her party ... but this was perfect.
The many candles flickering on the cake had shadows dancing on the walls and ceiling. With the lights dimmed down, it made the silver accents on the cake stand out even more. Not that she was paying attention to any of that.
Someone across the table had her attention.
All of it.
Juan stood at the far end of the room, leaning against the wall. Nobody specified the attire for the party, and yet he still showed up in a white silk dress shirt rolled up around to his elbows. It showed off the dark golden tan of his forearms and the ropes of veins she had learned that she liked to trace with her fingertips when the two of them were driving around.
Or ... anytime.
He smiled her way.
No, that was wrong.
It was more like a smirk.
Entirely too attractive.
He knew it, too.
“Make a wish,” he mouthed.
Cece cocked a brow, leaned forward so that the flame of the candle she was supposed to blow out was only a few inches away, locked gazes with Juan and then blew out the candle. All the while, she made her wish.
One she’d been thinking about for a while.
She wanted a kiss.
From him.
*
“Cece, your mother is going to want you to open presents!”
She heard the shout of her grandmother, Emma, behind her, but didn’t turn around. The hand locked around her wrist kept her attention on the man ahead of her. Juan, that was. And the fact he was steering them toward the back of the house. Before she knew it, the two of them stood out on the back deck.
“You know, I need to be in there, right?” she asked.
Juan spun Cece around and leveled her with one of those grins. The kind that had her stomach doing flip-flops while her heart only managed to melt into a stupid puddle of goo. See, Juan wasn’t the first boy to give her attention. She’d had boyfriends if that was what someone wanted to call those.
Mostly, they were like toys to her.
Fun to play with.
Cute to look at.
Then, she quickly became bored, and discarded them to someone who might find a better use of them than she did.
But then there was Juan. He couldn’t be the same because he’d never been the same. The first boy she ever had a crush on, it didn’t wane. Not as time passed, boys came and went, and the years went by.
And all it took was a grin from him to remind her exactly why that was, too.
“My gift is in there somewhere,” he said, “it’s that bag you were—”
“The Hermes one?”
Juan laughed. “Listen—”
“That’s a ten-thousand-dollar bag, Juan.”
“And?”
She wasn’t going to ask how he came up with the money for that. She knew he’d started to work for his father—and as a by-product—her mother since he turned seventeen. She learned it was better not to ask when it came to business unless someone else offered.
As it was, her mother offered her a lot.
Soon, Cece would be with them.
Working.
“Did you bring me out here to tell me about the bag?” she asked.
Juan shook his head and moved in a little closer. Those strong arms of his locked around her waist, and she found herself molded against him. All her soft curves fit into his hard lines, and her heart pounded. She stared up at him, waiting.
They did this a lot.
Just him and her.
It didn’t mean very much but it also meant everything.
“No, I wanted to tell you happy birthday without an audience,” he said.
Cece smiled. “Oh?”
“Yes, so happy birthday, hermosa. What did you wish for, by the way?”
A shaky exhale left her lips. “Something silly.”
“Doubt it. There’s a Porsche in your driveway and the dress you’re wearing is an easy five-k. You don’t wish for silly things. You’re too much like your mother and grandmothers for that.”
“Hey, now.”
Juan shrugged, still grinning. “But I don’t lie.”
Well, he had a point.
“You really want to know what I wished?”
“Yeah, Cece. I know everything about you, right? Why would that be different?”
She swallowed hard.
Right.
But what if this was different?