Ten minutes later, after I manage to freeze the mortification and adrenaline out of me, I get out, comb my hair, and slap on a little blush to make me look less like a cast member of The Walking Dead. My clothes are still packed in the suitcases, so I grab whatever is on top—a pair of bootcut jeans and a soft yellow T-shirt. It’s not my cutest outfit, but it’ll do.
As soon as I exit my room, I hear voices and the clattering of dishes.
The thought of going down there to meet the staff makes me halt. There’s energy in the air, and it’s…daunting. I really don’t feel like socializing or making small talk with strangers.
For a moment, I consider disobeying Giorgio and hiding out in my room, but I don’t want him to think I’m embarrassed about this morning. Even though I am. But he can’t know that. I’d rather throw myself off that tower we drove past last night than reveal my crush on him. It’s so dumb. He’s a grown man, gorgeous, and infuriating, and I am not crazy enough to think he’d ever look at me that way. Even in my dreams, I wouldn’t allow myself to be so bold as to entertain the idea that he might ever see me as anything more than his future don’s little sister.
Plus, staying in my room won’t help me find my phone, and I need to get that thing back quickly.
I take a steadying breath and force myself to descend the steps.
Since I didn’t get more than a tiny glimpse of the castello last night, I can’t recall which way anything is, but I let my nose act as my compass.
It leads me right to what appears to be the dining room.
Giorgio is already at the head of a table that’s big enough to seat at least a dozen people. Standing beside him is a tiny, gray-haired woman, dressed in a dark, uniform-like dress.
“Tommaso was working on the bread since four am this morning,” she says to Giorgio. “He said last time you were here, you told him you liked it very much, but as I recall, it was actually the pecorino rolls that you enjoyed. His memory isn’t what it used to be. The man’s nearly seventy, even if he refuses to admit it.”
I halt in the entryway and observe them. Giorgio looks like he’s only half-listening, his nose buried in a newspaper, but that doesn’t seem to deter the woman.
“He still insists on going on a run with Polo every other Saturday, but I’m worried he’s going to trip and break a leg one of these days. The forest floor is so uneven in some parts, and there are some really slippery roots. I’ve been meaning to ask Polo to—”
Giorgio’s eyes suddenly flick from the newspaper to me. “Martina.”
The woman quiets and follows his gaze. For a moment, she seems confused at the sight of me, then her expression melts, and her mouth forms a cheerful smile. “Hello! Our guest!” She patters to me in a succession of quick steps and unceremoniously places her hands on my cheeks. “What a pleasure it is to have you join us. Gio, look at her freckles. Bellisima! How charming.”
“Hi,” I insert between her two kisses. “I’m Martina.”
“Of course you are, and I’m Allegra.” Her eyes twinkle. “We are so happy to have you here. We haven’t hosted any visitors since…”
Pressing her palm to her forehead, she whirls around. “Dio mio, has there been anyone since Polo? And he hardly counts, given he now works here.”
“You know I don’t like people,” Giorgio says, already back at his newspaper.
Allegra’s eyes widen, and she makes an awkward laugh. “He means he doesn’t like people in his personal space, not in general.”
“No, in general too,” he deadpans.
She swats at him with a towel, then guides me to a seat to his right. “A strange sense of humor he has. Sit, sit. I’ll bring you your breakfast, and then we’ll all sit down. Polo is just a little late. It’s been very dry this month, and the garden needs a lot of watering. Cappuccino?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Allegra disappears down a hallway and leaves us on our own. I’m not quite sure I can look at Giorgio without blushing just yet, so I take in the room instead. Fine art, gold-plated candelabras, and furniture that appears to be well-maintained antiques. A stone fireplace acts as the centerpiece of the room, but since it’s summer, it’s not lit.
There’s a snort, and then the tablecloth lifts to reveal a snout. Sophia places her head on my lap and offers me her best puppy eyes.
“Hi.”
She licks my hand.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Giorgio fold the newspaper and place it on the table. “Sophia likes to sleep in my room when I’m at the castello. If she keeps scratching at the door, I’ll ask Tommaso to take her for the night.”
“How old is she?”
“Four, although she still likes to act like she’s a puppy.”
“You leave her here when you’re gone?”
He brings his coffee to his lips. “Yes. I’m not here often. Technically, she’s Tommaso’s dog, but she’s developed an attachment to me I can’t really explain. I haven’t done anything to encourage it.”
As if sensing the topic of conversation, Sophia leaves me and pads over to him.
“Sit.”
She follows his command immediately and sticks out her tongue.
I’d miss it if I wasn’t watching carefully, but something soft bleeds into Giorgio’s expression as he drags his palm over the dog’s head.
I’m not about to tell him this, but her attachment is really no mystery when he looks at her like that.
“Your ice is in that bucket, by the way.”
Oh, right. I reach inside the metal container and take out a small ice pack before pressing it against my tailbone. “Thanks.”
“I hope your grave injury doesn’t bother you too much.”
“I’ll survive.”
He glances at me, amusement dancing inside his eyes. “Have you decided what you’ll be doing today?”
“You know what. I’m getting my phone back.”
His lips twitch. “Hmm. It might be harder than you think. I doubt you’ll accomplish it in a day.”
“We’ll see. I’m very determined.”
Something satisfied settles over his expression. “I had an idea for another way you can channel that determination.”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
He chuckles. “You know, your brother described you to me once as a ‘sweet little girl.’ There was no mention of this attitude, though.”
Ugh. Did Dem really say that to him? I hate when my brother talks about me like I’m still five. I love him more than anything, but I swear it’s like he’s in denial about the fact that I’m fully grown. Sometimes, he still treats me like I’m a child.
I’m not, though.
And the thought that Giorgio might think of me as one makes me bristle with indignation. “Yeah, I’m sweet to people who don’t confiscate my stuff.”
His eyes spark. “Hmm. Well, like I already told you, my house, my rules, so you’re just going to have to put up with listening to my ideas whether you want to or not. Have you ever learned any self-defense?”
His question takes me by surprise. “No. Why would I? I’ve had bodyguards my entire life.”
“And what happens when they’re incapacitated or get separated from you?”
“I guess I’m screwed.”
He adjusts his cufflinks. “You can’t make a habit of relying on other people. You need to be able to take care of yourself if it comes down to it.”
My eyes widen. I agree with him…but Dem would definitely not. One time, I asked my brother to show me how to use a gun, and he categorically refused. He said he’ll always be there to protect me, so I don’t need to worry about it.
But that’s not how things have worked out.
“What do you think about giving it a try?” Giorgio asks.
“I don’t know.” If I knew some self-defense, could that have really helped me fight off Lazaro when he showed up in Ibiza? Maybe. Then again, he was so strong, his arm felt like it was made of solid steel when it was wrapped around me. I felt completely powerless. Vivid memories of that day surface back up.
“I just…” I sigh, dropping my gaze to my lap. “The man who attacked me was very strong.”
“There are techniques that allow you to use your opponent’s strength against them.”
I shake my head, still staring at my lap. I’d probably suck at it and embarrass myself in front of Giorgio. Haven’t I managed to do that enough already in the past twenty-four hours?
Something presses against the underside of my chin—his fingers. He makes me meet his gaze.
“I could teach you,” he says, his voice so soft I barely hear it over the burn from his touch. There’s a flutter in my belly. It multiplies when he says, “I have a feeling you’ll learn quickly.”
He searches my expression, and I wonder if he can read all the hesitation spelled out across my face.
“I’ll think about it,” I say.
He looks like he’s ready to argue further, but then Allegra’s voice streams back into the room, and quickly, he drops his hand.
When Allegra returns, she’s not alone. Tommaso follows behind her, along with a younger man.
Tommaso greets me as warmly as the night before and then gestures at Allegra.
“We’re married,” he says, “although she’s been threatening to divorce me for the past decade.”
“Quiet, Toma,” Allegra chastises as she hands me a cappuccino. “Martina has just arrived here. You can wait a few days before you air out all the dirty laundry in front of her.”
“Thank you,” I say, taking the drink from her.
While Tommaso takes his seat, I glance at the man who came with him.
Curly hazel hair, sharp features, and a youthful glow that seems to put him around my age. His lips quirk up into a mischievous smile. A strange feeling washes over me. There’s something familiar about this guy, but I can’t quite place it. We’ve never met before.
Giorgio puts his coffee down and stands to greet the newcomer. “Polo.”
They stare at each other for a moment and then exchange a brusque embrace that hints at familiarity, yet it contains little warmth.
“We weren’t sure if you were really coming,” Polo says. “You usually give more notice.”
“It was a spontaneous decision.”
“Yes, you’re known for those.” The way Polo says it makes it clear he means the opposite. His attention flicks back to me. “And you brought a guest.”
Giorgio nods as he lowers back into his chair. “This is Martina De Rossi, sister of one of my colleagues. She’ll be staying her for a while.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say.
Polo scans me over with his gaze. “The pleasure is mine. As you’ve probably heard, we don’t get a lot of guests. Are you sure you didn’t kidnap her, Giorgio? Blink twice if you need help.”
Allegra and Tommaso chuckle, but for me, his joke hits too close to home, and I can’t even muster up a fake laugh. I look down at my plate.
An awkward silence descends until Giorgio says, “Have a seat, Polo. Martina is too tired from last night’s journey for your jokes.”
I glance at Giorgio from under my lashes, and he gives me a tiny nod. I appreciate him taking the spotlight off me. I guess it’s still too soon for kidnapping jokes.
“Let’s eat, the food’s going to get cold.” Allegra says, removing the covers from the plates. There are scrambled eggs, yogurt, freshly baked bread, cold cuts, and a platter of berries.
“These are from our garden,” she says in reference to the latter. “They’re as sweet as candy.”
My appetite stirs at the sight of the food. The last time I ate was when I was still in Ibiza.
While we take turns heaping our plates, the conversation around the table starts up again.
“Martina, have you been given a tour of the property? It’s easy to get lost here if you don’t know your way around,” Allegra says.
“No, I haven’t.”
She gives me a smile. “How about after breakfast? Polo can show you around the pro—”
“I’ll take her,” Giorgio interrupts as he spears a piece of tomato with his fork.
I’m relieved to hear him say it. I don’t know why I’m feeling so antsy around new people, but the thought of forcing a conversation with Polo fills me with anxiety. At least with Giorgio, I know what to expect.
“Sounds good,” I say. A tour will help me get oriented around here so that I can figure out where he could have hidden my phone.
“Why did your brother send you here?” Polo asks from across the table. “Strange place for a young girl to spend her summer all alone.”
“She’s not alone,” Giorgio responds. “She’s with me.”
Um. Does he have to say it like that? I shoot him a look.
His eyes meet mine, and my mind is probably playing tricks on me, because for a second, I think something possessive flashes inside of them.
“And what are your plans while you’re here?” Polo asks, flicking his gaze between Giorgio and I.
“Martina’s here to reconnect with nature,” Giorgio says.
I purse my lips in his direction. Reconnect with nature? Seriously?
“Wonderful,” Allegra says. “You couldn’t have picked a better place. You’ll see, this property is truly something special.”
