His Christmas List: – Naughty Stories For Your Stocking
His Christmas List: BRUNETTI: Chapter 2

“Where?” She looks around.

“Over in the corner in the gray shirt.”

She cranes her neck to look over the crowd. “Where’s his friend, that Valentino?”

“I don’t know. Oh my god.” I look down at myself as I straighten my dress in a fluster. “Do I look okay?”

“You look hot.”

“Ladies, take your seats,” the MC says over the microphone.

“If he doesn’t come to my table, I’m going to die. Not even joking.”

“Good luck.” She kisses my cheek.

“You too.” The women all sit down at the tables while the men congregate at the back. My eyes scan the crowd.

Has he seen me?

Would he even remember me if he did? How does this work? Do they get to pick what table they go to first?

Ahhh, kill me now. The women here are all beautiful, what if he meets someone else? What’s a man like him doing in a place like this, anyway?

As if he needs to speed date.

A bell sounds and the men begin to walk to the tables. I hold my breath as I wait.

This is fucking nerve-wracking.

A blond man walks over and smiles. “Hello.”

Go away.

“Hi.” I force a smile.

He pulls out the chair and sits down opposite me. “My name is Gregory,” he says in an English accent.

“Hi, Gregory, I’m Halle.”

I came to Italy to meet an Italian Gregory. Buzz off…

Gregory chats away, and he’s nice enough, but my eyes roam the room to replace Bruno.

What table is he sitting at?

Has he seen me?

The bell rings.

“Nice to meet you, Gregory,” I smile. Not lying, it was nice to meet him, but I hope to never see him again.

“You may now change tables,” the MC calls over the microphone.

I glance over to Allegra. Oh my god, she mouths, and I giggle. She must have liked her first speed date.

“Mind if I sit down?” a heavily accented deep voice asks. I glance up to see big, beautiful brown eyes. The ones who have been haunting me.

“Hi,” I breathe out.

“Hello.” He sits down opposite me and leans back in his chair. Dominance oozes from his every cell as he holds out his hand for mine. “Bruno.”

I put my hand into his and he lifts it to his lips and kisses the back of it. “Halle,” I murmur, mesmerized merely by his presence.

“So very beautiful, Halle.”

I smile, unable to think of a reply. Every logical thought has left my brain.

His dark eyes hold mine, and the air crackles between us.

“How was your weekend?” he asks as he continues to hold my hand in his. Goose bumps scatter up my arms from his touch.

“It was good. And yours?”

“It could have been better.” He raises an eyebrow, and I want to explain why I left the club without saying goodbye.

Act cool.

No, I’m not going to mention it. I don’t want to seem too desperate.

“Tell me about yourself, Halle.” He sits back in his chair.

“Umm…” I swallow the bucket of sand in my throat. “I’m American.”

“From which part?”

“New York.”

“What are you doing in Roma?”

“My friend and I are here on a work exchange for twelve months.”

His finger is steepled up to his temple, his elbow resting on the table as he listens. “How long have you been here?” he asks.

“Two weeks.”

“So I have eleven months and two weeks to corrupt you.” He smirks.

“Yes.” I smile dreamily. Start tonight.

He takes out his phone. “What is your number?”

“Oh…” I glance around. Is that what we are supposed to do?

“The bell is going to go off very soon, Halle, and I’m not leaving here without your number.”

“Right.” I smile. “It’s INSERT NUMBER.”

“Friday night, I’m taking you out.”

“You are?”

“I am.”

“You don’t waste time.”

“I know what I want.” His eyes darken before dropping back down to my lips. “And what I want is you.”

“That sounds . . . ” I cut myself off before I say something really fangirly and pathetic.

The bell rings. “I cannot stay afterward, I have to work,” he tells me.

“Okay.”

“Do not give anyone else your number,” he demands.

“Do not ask for anyone else’s number,” I fire back.

He bends and kisses my cheek. The scent of his aftershave dances around me. “Friday night.”

“Friday night,” I whisper, drunk on his pheromones.

He gets up and walks to the next table, and I sit back in my chair, shocked by my visceral reaction to him.

Holy shit…

Every time my phone rings, I scramble to answer it, and every time I do, I get disappointed that it’s not him.

It’s been twenty-four hours since I gave him my number, and like a little kid at Christmas, I’m over the moon with excitement.

He better call me, or I’m going to go insane. Either that or drive Allegra completely mad. I text her for the hundredth time today.

She texts back.

I flop back onto the couch with a dejected sigh. I’m suddenly remembering why I hate dating: they either call too much or they don’t call at all. It’s exhausting.

I go through my game plan for if he does call. Act casual, ask to meet him there, and if we do end up going out, do not, under any circumstances, sleep with him on the first date.

I actually like this guy, and I don’t want him to think I’m easy. Even though it would be totally easy for him to get me into his bed, I’m pretending that it wouldn’t be. I’m faking it till I make it… or something like that.

My problem is I’m a feast-or-famine kind of girl: I either haven’t gone on a date for twelve months and am completely sworn off men, or I go on a bender and wake up beside the devil.

Bad boys are my kink, a self-inflicted torture that I cannot resist.

But that was the old me…

This time I’m doing it different. I’m older now, and I need to get my shit together and use my brain for once. I’m going to make sure we have meaningful conversations and have fun. I’m going to get to know him and not be a dumb deer-in-the-horny-headlights kind of girl.

My phone rings and I glance at the screen.

Unknown number

Eeep…

“Hello,” I answer.

“Hello, Halle,” the deep voice replies.

I scrunch my face up in excitement and jump off the couch. I begin to pace as I listen.

Act cool.

“Who’s this?” I ask. Ha-ha… I’m totally nailing this being cool thing.

“You know who it is,” he replies.

Oh, he’s onto me. Maybe not so much, then.

“Ummm, let me guess,” I play along.

“It’s Bruno,” he snaps impatiently.

“I knew that. Just acting cool.”

Oh, hell. I screw up my face and slap myself in the forehead. Why did I say that?

“I don’t like cool,” he says, but I can tell that he’s smiling.

“Yeah, well.” I smile too. “Are you going to ask me out, or …?”

“It sounds like you’re asking me out now?”

“Maybe I am.”

“Tomorrow night, dinner?”

“A-ha.”

“I will pick you up?”

“No, I’ll meet you there.”

At least I got one thing on my checklist achieved.

“I’ll book somewhere and get back to you.”

“Okay.” I hang on the line with bated breath as I wait for his next sentence.

“Goodbye, Halle,” he breathes. A promise hangs in the air between us.

“Goodbye, Bruno.”

Friday night and I’m pimped within an inch of my life. I’m tanned and waxed, my makeup is natural, and I’m good to go in any situation, if you know what I mean.

My long blonde hair is out with full waves. I even bought a new dress; it’s cream and strapless and it fits perfectly. It was way out of my price range, but once I tried it on, I knew that nothing else would compare.

Seeing this is the most excited I’ve ever been about a date, I figured screw the budget.

You only live once, right?

I’ve been ready for an hour and sip my wine as I wait for the Uber. There is one thing on my mind, though, an annoying little voice from deep in my psyche that won’t go away, the girls warning about him the other night.

They are not the kind of men you mess with.

What does that even mean? Are they players, or something more sinister?

I can’t replace him on social media, and seeing I don’t even know his surname, I can’t search anything up about him.

I can’t get ahead of myself here; I need to know what I’m dealing with, and the first mission tonight is to replace out his full name. I can’t believe I didn’t ask for it already. Let’s just hope he’s not a serial killer who’s wanted in ten countries.

My phone beeps.

Driver arriving in one minute.

I tip my head back and drain my glass of Dutch courage.

Let’s do this.

I walk down the street, my eyes flicking between the strip of restaurants I’m walking past and the Maps app on my phone. I think it should be just down here. I finally see the gold sign hanging over the door.

G U I S E P E S.

Wow, this looks nice.

I push through the heavy doors. “Hello, may I help you?” the waiter asks.

“Yes, I’m . . ”I glance around, “Meeting someone here.” I see him over in the corner. He stands and I wave. “That’s him over there.” I smile, relieved. We both showed, so the night isn’t a total disaster… yet.

The waiter leads me over to the table, and Bruno smiles and kisses my cheek. “Ciao Halle.”

My stomach flips at the sound of his voice. What is it about this guy?

“Hello.” The waiter pulls out my chair and I sit down. “Thank you.”

He hands us a drinks menu. “I will be back to take your order in a moment.” He leaves us alone.

“So…” Bruno’s eyes hold mine.

“So.” I smile.

“Feels like it took forever for tonight to come,” he purrs.

“It did,” I agree.

“What shall we drink?” He opens the menu.

Alcohol, all of it.

I open the drinks menu, then I remember my purity promise for tonight. Okay, no slut juice. Scratch tequila from my thoughts. “I might just have a glass of wine.”

He smiles and closes the menu. “I’ll join you. Which wine shall we drink?”

“I didn’t get that far.”

Fuck, don’t make me choose. According to everyone else on earth, I have terrible taste in wine. My eyes scan the choices. Shit… I close the menu and put it down. “Surprise me.”

He raises his eyebrow. “I like the sound of that.”

His double meaning makes me blush, and I feel my cheeks heat.

The waiter comes back and he orders something in Italian. I can’t understand what he’s saying but it sounds wonderfully exotic. I feel myself slip even further under his spell.

The waiter leaves us alone and his focus comes back to me. “So…”

I beam. “You said that already.”

“You make me…” He frowns as if searching for the right word. “Nervous.”

“I think it’s you who makes me nervous.”

He smiles and takes my hand over the table and lifts it to his lips. He kisses my fingertips as my insides begin to liquify.

Okay, it’s official… he’s off-the-fucking-hook hot.

“What’s your surname?”

He frowns.

“Bruno what?”

“Oh.” He nods as if finally understanding the question. “Bruno is my nickname.”

“What?” I frown. “I don’t understand.”

“My surname is Brunetti.”

“Really?” I frown. “So…”

“My name is Dante Brunetti, but everyone calls me Bruno.”

“Oh.” I smile, relieved. Dante is a much nicer name than Bruno. “Okay.”

“What is your full name?” he asks.

“Halle Johnston.”

The waiter returns with a bottle of wine, opens it, and pours a little into a glass. He tastes it. “Va bene.”

The waiter then fills our glasses and leaves us alone.

Dante raises his glass and I hold mine up to touch his. “To speed dating… the long way.”

I smile softly. “That sounds perfect.”

“And that’s how I intend on moving forward,” Dante tells me.

“Interesting.” I sip my wine. The last four hours have been so… blissfully regular.

This is what a normal date feels like.

We’ve laughed and talked about all things Italian. We talked about our friends and life in America. Dante has explained in great detail his business plans for the next five years. He’s thoughtful, calculated, and has a very clear plan to where he wants to go in life.

The fact that I still replace him attractive is a miracle in itself; he’s the exact opposite to the kind of man I usually gravitate toward. To be honest, the fire has dulled a little with his oversharing, but perhaps that’s because I’m chasing a thrill instead of stability.

No…

I’m going to see where this goes. I know it has potential.

“Ciao.” I hear a woman’s voice.

Dante’s eyes widen. “Mama. What are you doing here?” He stands and kisses her two cheeks.

Oh crap, it’s his mother.

“I’m having dinner with Rosina.” She turns her attention to me. “Who is your lovely friend, Dante?”

“Mama, this is Halle. She is visiting from America.”

“Hello.” I smile as I shake her hand. She’s glamorous and beautiful, not at all what the average woman her age looks like.

“Hello.” She smiles warmly and turns her attention back to her son. “You didn’t tell me you had a date tonight.”

“Mama.” He laughs. “Contrary to what you believe, you do not need to know everything about me.”

“You are wrong, my boy.” She laughs. “Was the meal nice?” she asks me.

“Lovely.” I smile nervously, unsure what to say next.

“Do not forget Sunday,” she tells him.

“I won’t.”

“Actually”—her eyes come back to me—“you must join us for lunch on Sunday, Halle. It’s a family tradition. The week before Christmas, we always go to my favorite restaurant for their tidings feast. You will love it.”

“Oh, that’s so lovely of you to invite me.”

God, I can’t believe it’s Christmas next week. We’ve been so busy settling in that we haven’t even thought about the holiday season.

“Mama, Halle doesn’t want to come to a family dinner.” He scoffs.

Her eyes meet mine. “You don’t want to come, Halle?”

“No…” I shrug. Oh crap, way to be put on the spot… awkward. “I’d love to come… I mean, if that’s okay.”

It would be nice to feel a little festive, actually.

“Of course it’s okay.” Dante smiles, seemingly very pleased, and I feel like I just passed some kind of test.

“I must be going.” She kisses both his cheeks and then kisses mine. “Lovely to meet you, Halle. I will see you on Sunday, my dear.”

“Okay.”

She totters out in her sky-high stilettos as we stare after her. “Wow.” I smile. “She’s beautiful.”

“Ah.” He shrugs. “She works hard at being beautiful.”

“Well, it’s paying off.”

“It is.” He smiles.

“Excuse me,” the waiter interrupts us, “would you like to order another drink before the bar closes?”

“No,” Dante replies. “We’re going to get going now. Thanks anyway.”

We make our way to the front desk and I go to take out my purse, but he shakes his head. “Do not insult me.”

“No, you are not paying for everything.”

“Watch me.” He pays and takes my hand, and we walk outside. The mood between us suddenly changes, and gone is the playful banter we had inside; somehow, now it feels stressed and forced.

Awkward.

“I should call an Uber.” I shrug.

“Me too.”

Oh…

That was where he was supposed to try and talk me out of leaving and I was going to show him just how pure I can be.

I guess that backfired.

We both take out our phones and call the separate Ubers. Maybe saying I would go to the family lunch was a mistake… Damn it, why did I say yes?

It’s way too soon.

“I’m not sure I will come on Sunday.” I wince.

His face falls. “Why not?”

“Well, do you want me to come? Isn’t it a bit early to meet the family?”

“My mother asked you, and trust me, if you don’t go, she will hold a grudge forever.”

“Oh.” My face falls.

“It will be fine; we won’t stay long. Then we will do something fun.” He turns me toward him and takes my two hands in his.

“Okay.”

He leans in and kisses me, softly at first and then it deepens. I feel a swirl of arousal pass through me. “I like you.”

“I like you too.”

“We should take it slow.”

“Yes.” I force a smile. “We should.”

The Uber pulls up, and he kisses me again before we part. “See you on Sunday.”

“Okay.” I climb into the backseat and he blows me a kiss as the car pulls into the night.

I text Allegra.

I put my phone back into my bag and smile out the window. I feel very grown up and accomplished.

No regretful wake up tomorrow.