Dante’s Girl (The Paradise Diaries #1)(29)
Author: Courtney Cole

“Will I?” I scrunch up my face.  “I don’t know.”

“You will,” Gavin assures me.  “I promise.”

“But everyone hates Americans,” I practically whimper.

Gavin rolls his eyes.  “We do not.  We love you and your money.”  He grins.  “Seriously.  Be likeable and they’ll like you.  It’s that simple.”

Well.  Once he put it that way, it did seem simple.  And I suddenly felt a new responsibility to represent America accurately to these foreigners.  We’re not all the obese selfish pigs that people seem to think we are.  I square my shoulders, which I might add, are not obese shoulders.

Gavin nods at the guards guarding the doors.  Each man is dressed in a blue and white uniform with a leather band criss-crossing his chest and a sword in a sheath at his side.  Each has the ancient Giliberti family crest on his uniform, as well.

Mia had informed me earlier that with each Prime Minister, the royal guard changes their crest to match the incoming PM.  And they are still called the Royal Guard even though there is no royal family anymore.

Caberra is weird.

But steeped in tradition and I have to respect that.

The guards open the doors and I suppress a gasp when I see the ballroom inside.

First, a ball room??

Second, there are so many people.   So. Many. People.

They are all sparkling and glittering and dressed to the nines and holy-freaking-ballgown, Dante was not exaggerating when he said that it would be formal.

It is so formal.

Silver bows adorn each banquet table, along with mounds of flowers and flickering candles.  Chandeliers hang overhead, so many of them, and each crystal-encrusted-string on each crystal-encrusted-arm sparkles like diamonds. For all I know, maybe they are actually diamonds.  Every person here is immaculately attired and standing on a gleaming floor that is waxed to a shine so brilliant and bright that I can practically see up women’s dresses.

I am suddenly thankful for both my high-heeled-stilts-of-death and the fact that I twisted my hair into a chignon.  I would have looked horribly out of place with plain hair and ballet flats.

But who am I kidding?  I’m horribly out of place anyway.

I gulp and clutch frantically at Gavin’s arm.  He seems so comfortable and relaxed as he smiles at the people who turn to look at us.  I can see the curiosity on people’s faces as they stare at me.  And it makes me blush.  I only pray that they haven’t seen the stupid pictures on the stupid gossip websites. I think I hate Caberra.  I suddenly wish that I could be at home, safe and sound in my bedroom.

I ignore the stares and search the room for the most important person.

No, not the Prime Minister.

The Prime Minister’s son.

I don’t see him and my heart plummets.

Where is Dante?  There is no way that he would send me to this dinner and then not even show up himself.  He wouldn’t do that, would he?  Would he?  I could be safely and happily ensconced in my room right now eating pizza straight out of the box and in my pajamas.  But no.  Here I am, trussed up in a strapless ball gown and ready to fall down in my heels at any slight misstep.

And Dante isn’t here.

I definitely hate Caberra.

I’ve looked at every inch of the room.

He definitely isn’t here.

“Where is he?” I hiss under my breath at Gavin.

He stares at me sideways.

“He’ll be here,” Gavin assures me.  “What?  Are you bored with me already?”

I’m in the middle of rolling my eyes at Gavin, when I sense his presence.

Dante.

I can feel him just as sure as I am living, breathing and miserable in my strapless bra.

I turn slowly, trying to be casual, trying not to break my neck as I hurry to find him.

And there he is, filling up the doorway with his own special golden awesomeness.

Breathe, Reece, I tell myself.

I am reminded once again that Dante is devastatingly handsome.  Freaking hot, to tell the truth.  He’s wearing a tuxedo with a deep purple tie and a smile and I want to melt into the highly waxed floor.

He steps down into the ballroom and makes his way through the throngs of people, nodding and smiling at everyone who greets him.

And then he is standing in front of me.

“Reece,” he says, his voice husky and sexy.  “You look beautiful.”

My tongue is tied and I can’t speak.  I stare at him like an idiot.  All of a sudden, I am overcome with feeling inadequate and excited and spellbound.  All at once.

“Reece?” Dante asks in his oh-so-charming accent.  And I shake my head, snapping myself out of it.

“Yes.  I’m sorry.  Thank you.   And thank you for the dress.  It’s absolutely lovely.”

He eyes it, then pulls his eyes back to mine.

“Not as lovely as you are wearing it,” he tells me seriously.

Not one of the boys back home could get away with that line without sounding ridiculous and out of place.  But Dante pulls it off effortlessly.  He’s got old world charm and modern good looks and I am finding more and more every day that it is futile to resist that particular combination.

And honestly, why would I want to?  He’s practically perfect.

I realize then that Gavin is still holding onto my arm, only because he’s making gagging sounds and rolling his eyes.

I pull away from him before I even realize what I’m doing.  With Dante in front of me, I simply want to gravitate towards him. And unconsciously, I take a step forward.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” Dante asks, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.  “I was right on time.”

I could listen to his accent all day long.

He’s so tall and graceful.  Yes, graceful.

Have his eyelashes always been that long?

Wait. What?

His words break through my reverie.

Why didn’t I wait for him?

I stare blankly at him, then at Gavin, who immediately looks guilty.

“Didn’t you send Gavin to pick me up?” I ask Dante, shooting daggers at Gavin.

Dante rolls his eyes and then punches Gavin good-naturedly on the arm.

“No, I didn’t,” he answers.  He turns to Gavin. “Again?  Really?  There are thousands of girls on this island,” he says.  “Do you really have to trick my date?  Go bother someone else.”

He shoves Gavin slightly, and definitely not as hard as I’d like to shove him.