The Kiss Thief by L. J. Shen EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author Name: L.J. Shen
- Book Genre: Contemporary, Contemporary Romance, New Adult, Romance
- ISBN # 9781793307507
- Date of Publication: 2019-1-6
- File Name: PDF / EPUB
- PDF / EPUB File Size: 1.8 MB
Francesca
“I DIDN’T KNOW VENUS HAD wings.”
Angelo kissed the back of my hand at the doors to the Art Institute of
Chicago. My heart sank before I pushed the silly disappointment aside. He
was only baiting me. Besides, he looked so dazzlingly handsome in his tux
tonight, I could forgive any mistake he made, short of coldhearted murder.
The men, unlike the women at the gala, wore a uniform of tuxedos and
demi-masks. Angelo complemented his suit with a golden-leafed Venetian
masquerade mask that took over most of his face. Our parents exchanged
pleasantries while we stood in front of each other, drinking in every freckle
and inch of flesh on one another. I didn’t explain my Nemesis costume to
him. We’d have time—an entire lifetime—to discuss mythology. I just
needed to make sure that tonight we’d have another fleeting summer
moment. Only this time, when he kissed my nose, I’d look up and lock our
lips, and fate, together.
I am Cupid, shooting an arrow of love straight into Angelo’s heart.
“You look more beautiful than the last time I saw you.” Angelo clutched
the fabric of his suit over where his heart beat, feigning surrender. Everyone
around us had gone quiet, and I noticed our fathers staring at one another
conspiratorially.
Two powerful, wealthy Italian-American families with strong mutual
ties.
Don Vito Corleone would be proud.
“You saw me a week ago at Gianna’s wedding.” I fought the urge to lick
my lips as Angelo stared me straight in the eyes.
“Weddings suit you, but having you all to myself suits you more,” he
said simply, throwing my heart into fifth gear, before twisting toward my
father. “Mr. Rossi, may I escort your daughter to the table?”
My father clasped my shoulder from behind. I was only vaguely aware
of his presence as a thick fog of euphoria engulfed me. “Keep your hands
where I can see them.”
“Always, sir.”
Angelo and I entwined our arms together as one of the dozens of
waiters showed us to our seats at the table clothed in gold and graced with
fine black china. Angelo leaned and whispered in my ear, “Or at least until
you’re officially mine.”
The Rossis and Bandinis had been placed a few seats away from each
other—much to my disappointment, but not to my surprise. My father was
always at the heart of every party and paid a pretty penny to have the best
seats everywhere he went. Across from me, the governor of Illinois, Preston
Bishop, and his wife fretted over the wine list. Next to them was a man I
didn’t know. He wore a simple all-black demi-mask and a tux that must’ve
cost a fortune by its rich fabric and impeccable cut. He was seated next to a
boisterous blonde in a white French tulle camisole gown. One of dozens of
Venuses who arrived in the same number.
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