Free Amalfi Coast (That Wedding Girl Book 2) by Maggie Way Page B

all.
     
    ♦
     
    It’s now the party end of the night, and the dance floor is blazing with all the guests grooving away to the contemporary pop music. Gabe and I have a quick boogie with the wedding party and I get to witness Kieran’s stiff typewriter moves. While I move gently from side to side, Gabe is really in his element and on stage, his flamboyant personality and sensuality bursts through in the most fun way. Somehow one song turns into five and I work up a sweat. At Amelia’s insistence, I’ve consumed three glasses of champagne, and I am now feeling relaxed and happily tipsy.
    “Thriller” by Michael Jackson blares through the speakers and the crowd goes wild. This is my cue to escape. I sneak my way out of the dance floor, grabbing a white wine spritzer at the bar before using the fire escape to get some fresh air.
    The cool air feels so good on my skin and I walk up to the gazebo to drink my wine in peace and silence. The day is over! For the first time in a long time - even before coming here for this wedding - I can finally breathe easy. Most of my work is done now. The caterers and decorators will clean up the room when the reception is finished, and I’ve finalised all the payments and invoices for the services provided. That’s everything.
    Sitting on the stone bench inside the gazebo, I rest my head on the stone pillar behind me, thinking about what else needs to be done when I hear the footsteps of well-heeled shoes approaching the gazebo. I crouch my back inwards, trying to not be seen. I just want to be alone right now. However, my efforts are all in vain as the footsteps get closer, until they stop just in front of me.
    “ Buonasera, Lacey.”
    It’s Matteo, the hunky Italian who has been a hell of a distraction since I’ve been here.
    He’s here, in front of me.
    And it looks like he’s here to stay.

CHAPTER NINE
     
    With a cigarette in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other, I should be horrified at the sight of him smoking, but in his tight black jeans and denim shirt, he looks hot as hell. Matteo walks closer until he stands right above me.
    “How was today for you?” His eyes meet mine. He takes one final drag and drops it to the ground, stubbing it with his loafers.

“Good! I bet you had a good time?” I grin. I bet he did. All the bride maids practically trapped him on the dance floor. Why isn’t he with one of them, instead of out here with me?
    “I did, but there was one person I would have liked to dance with,” he murmurs, looking at me.
    “Emily? I think she’s still inside,” I tease. Carrying that bouquet like a trophy.
    “I meant you.”
    I blush, looking at him curiously. “Why?”
    All of a sudden, he makes his way over and sits down next to me. I feel self-conscious at how close he is sitting next to me.
    “What do you mean ‘why’?” He downs the rest of his wine and puts the glass down.
    “I mean all those girls in there.” I gesture to the dance party in the crypt. “I know any of them would love to dance with you. I can’t dance for my life, seriously I have two left feet—”
    “That evening, when I was with you.” He looks at my hair, fastened in its tight bun before focusing his gaze on me. “I should have…done more.” 
    I blush some more. “I…I…I—”
    Before I get a chance to respond he shifts closer and I freeze as he touches my cheek with his right hand.
    His hands feel rough and hardened, and yet, they feel nice. He’s good with his hands, I’ve seen it for myself. His thumb brushes my lower lip, and my breathing hitches as he stares into my eyes, that intense, burning gaze. Is he really…? Surely no...am I going to? Should I? Being on my fourth drink is really not helping me with my decision making.
    “ Le tue labbra di guardare in modo dolce come una caramella ,” he whispers, the smell of tobacco and wine a heady mix, an oddly entrancing aroma. I have no idea what he said, but the way the words curl off his