Luca strode into the dining room, and spotted Sara already seated at the small table, bathed in the soft morning light.
"Why did you abandon the room without even handing me a towel?" he complained, dropping into a chair across from her. He arched a brow with a teasing, possessive gleam in his eyes. "Last night, my dear, we had the sweetest—"
"Luca, don't."
Sara cut him off. She slowly lifted a piece of toast, a toasted bread slathered with olive oil and tomato, to her lips.
The sudden shift in her demeanor made him genuinely pause. "What has gotten into you suddenly? I thought everything was going well between us," he said, the genuine confusion pushing past his playful facade.
She took a small bite of the bread and chewed it well before speaking,
"Yes, it has been going well," Sara stated. "But I didn't wish to fall for your cheap trick. Let's not talk while eating." She was concerned about the meeting she had to attend later.
