AYLA
"Because I don't live here." I sipped my tequila. "Lake Como."
"So, you're the one with the Don tonight?"
"Depends on which one you're referring to, but yeah."
She laughed. "You're a good match for him."
I looked from my glass to where Don Cassian stood, on cue, his gaze paralleled mine.
I wasn't sure I was a good match for this devil, but I wasn't going to tell Allegra that.
I looked away.
She smacked her lips, crossing a leg over the other. "You're clearly going to be in the tabs and blogs by morning, girl."
I shrugged. "Doesn't bother me. I wish they'd turn every bit of it into a dollar—maybe I'd care."
She turned to face me. "You sound so forward, sweetheart."
Because I'm forward and straight to the chase, I thought.
"So who are you here with?" I asked.
Her eyes moved to someone across the gallery.
Dirty blonde hair. Every bit a Colombian. A fine one—but definitely old enough to be her father.
"That's my husband."
I almost choked on my tequila.
