Take Me Home | Ream Exclusive

01: Need help sneaking out of here?

I heard him before I saw him. The lanky waiter that had been serving the table all evening scampered over. His dress shoes were at least two sizes too big, slapping across the marble floor until he reached the balcony. He stood at our table for a long moment. I could see him out from under my mascara-slicked lashes. He was apprehensive, fiddling with the tie around his neck. I understood why. One wrong move and he would lose his job faster than he could apologize.

"Can I get you anything, Ms. Blackwell? Perhaps a-another drink?" he asked.

I continued to pick at the stray lettuce leaves on my plate. I wasn't in the mood to force pleasantries with the staff. All I wanted to do was head back to my suite and order room service. Truthfully, I had forgotten how exhausting it was being at business dinners with my parents. Earlier that morning, they had promised me a family dinner – a half-baked apology for leaving me high and dry for the past week. It should not have surprised me when they had shown up with guests. I wanted to kick myself for being so disappointed. If I had learned anything about Mary and Steven Blackwell in my nineteen-years on this planet, it was that dinner with their only daughter wasn't high on their list of priorities.

After a few awkward moments the unwanted presence disappeared from my side and moved onto my mother. Mary Blackwell blotted her rouge lips before requesting their finest cabernet. The man bowed his head before hurrying off back to the kitchen. Without missing a beat, my mother turned back to overhear the conversation her husband was having with the rotund man seated next to him. My father clapped the shoulder of Mauro Rosati, owner and CEO of the most luxurious hotel chain Europe had to offer. The two of them exploded into a fit of laughter that echoed throughout the garden below. If I hadn't known the importance of this working dinner, I might have actually thought that my father was enjoying himself.

"Are you sure you don't want anything, bella?"

The strong Tuscan accent drew me back to reality. I blinked a couple of times, eyes landing on the young man next to me. Luca Rosati was the spitting image of his father. Strong jaw, deep hazel eyes, and enough grease in his hair to use in a stir-fry. Knowing my mother, this was the type of man she saw me with in the future. A man with influence and charm.

A man with money.

He gestured towards the partially full glass of water in front of me.

"Oh," I said, "No, I'm okay. Water is fine."

Luca's hand reached for the glass bottle of spring water in the centre of the table. Drips of condensation pooled at his fingertips as he topped me up. When he placed the bottle back down on the table, he was sure to hold my gaze for a tantalizing moment. Chills fluttered up my spine at the intensity of his stare. I'm sure most women would find him charming, but I couldn't help but feel creeped out.

"If you need anything else, let me know," he said, grazing his bottom lip with his thumb.

My mother clapped her hands together in glee. "What a polite young man. Don't you think so, Elizabeth?"

The question caught me off guard. Was she serious? What kind of curve ball was my mother throwing at me this time?

"Well I–"

Before I could mutter the rest of my poorly formulated sentence, the skittish server from earlier had returned. A white napkin was folded neatly over his left forearm and he was standing taller than before. It would have seemed professional if the bottle of red wine wasn't quivering in his grasp.

"Your cabernet, Mrs. Blackwell?" he asked.

My mother paused her interrogation long enough to reply. She scrutinized the bottle before saying, "Did I not request a bottle from 2007?"