by Jill Sanders
“Oh, okay, if you’re sure…” His voice dropped off like it always did when he was trying to make her feel guilty.
“I’m positive. I have to go, Daddy, I’m working.”
“Okay, zucca. If you need anything—”
“I’ll call,” she interrupted. “Bye,”
Hanging up, she leaned back on the sofa and sighed as she thought of her father and the mess that was her family. Being the only child of a couple who had never married should have been easy. But her mother was a diva who had hooked up with an Italian mobster, so her life was more like a bumper car ride than a rollercoaster. Being tossed from one parent to the other her entire life had been exhausting.
Her father lived on Giglio Island, a small rocky island off the east coast of Italy that had been run by his mob family for generations. Being born into one of the oldest families in Italy didn’t have any perks that she could see to date.
Sure, when she visited her father, everyone knew her, watched over her. But the looks she got from people who disliked the way the island was run creeped her out.
She had spent most of her summers with her father until the summer her father’s people had overheard a plot to kidnap her. Being in the big house under guard hadn’t been any fun, so she’d avoided going back until things had died down.
By then, she was older, and her father had rented her a place in Florence. She’d decided at an early age to go to design school. One of her father’s connections had gotten her into the best college there. Which had led to her meeting Matthew that fateful summer.
She walked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. Butters, her orange tabby cat, wound his way around her legs, begging for attention or dinner.
She scooped him up, pulled out a container of wet food, and peeled the top open for him.
Her phone rang again. Taking the bottle of wine and a plastic glass back over with her, she answered the call from her mother.
“Hi, sweetie.” Her mother’s voice sounded soft and welcoming, as it always had.
“Hi, Mom.” She sat down, poured some wine, and sipped. She rubbed her forehead to counteract the headache she knew was coming.
“Your father just called.” Blake held in a groan. Her parents had never married, had never lived together in any sense, were complete opposites in life, yet were unified when it came to the daughter they had created one crazy summer during a short-lived fling in Italy, when her mother had been a fashion model working in some of the top fashion shows.
“We talked as well,” she admitted between sips.
“You have a new client?” she asked. Blake knew that her mother would try to get information out of her, which she would then relay to her father.
“Why haven’t you two ever married?” Blake asked, knowing the age-old question would divert the conversation for a short time.
Her mother sighed. “Your father isn’t the marrying type,” she answered, as she always had. “Besides, my career is taking off again. I signed a deal with Lady’s Choice just the other day.”
“You did?” Blake’s excitement echoed in her voice. “How wonderful.”
“Don’t get too excited. It’s not for the cover, just some ads.” Her mother sighed.
“Still.” She smiled and sipped again.
“Are you drinking?” her mother asked.
“Yes.”
“Sweetie, you shouldn’t drink alone.” Butters jumped up and begged for love now that dinner was over.
“I’m not alone.” She smiled down at the cat.
“Your cat doesn’t count,” her mother said smoothly.
“Says you.” Blake rubbed her forehead against the cat’s. “Mom, I have to get back to work. I start with my new client first thing in the morning.”
“Oh, okay. I wish you’d give your father your client’s information. You can’t be too careful nowadays. He could check…”
“No, Mother. Trust me, this client does not need to be checked out.” She thought of the week they had spent together in Italy. “I know his family really well.”
“His?” Her mother’s voice spiked with interest. “Your father didn’t say it was a male. Single?”
Blake rolled her eyes and placed a finger at her forehead to pretend shoot herself in the temple. She shouldn’t have let that bit of information slip. Now her parents wouldn’t leave her alone until they knew who he was.
“I have to go,” she said quickly.
“Blake.” Her mother’s tone stopped her from hanging up. “Be careful,” she said softly.
Memories of what her mother had gone through a few years back surfaced. She’d been raped when she’d gone for a supposed model shoot. Blake had never been more scared for her mother or herself after that incident. She’d flown to LA from Italy and had spent almost a full year with her mother. They’d taken self-defense classes together, had learned how to shoot guns, and had gotten concealed carry permits. Still, the entire incident had changed her mother, seemingly for the worse as far as their relationship had gone. Blake had been relieved when she’d gotten accepted at the school in Italy, knowing distance helped their relationship.
“I will, you too. Love you.” She hung up and took another sip of the wine, then set the glass down and looked at her work. So far, so good. She just needed more time in the house to smooth a few things over. Some time without Matthew following her around, without his hard, solid body close to her so that her mind could focus on work instead of memoires of what that body felt like and how it looked naked.
She leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment, dreaming of the last time he’d held her.
Chapter 3
The dream started like it normally did. Blake’s face floated in front of his. The first time he’d seen her, making her way across the courtyard in those sexy heels and that short skirt, replayed in his memory. Then time shifted, and he was there, that first evening, seeing her at the little café, watching her hips sway as she walked towards him in the sexy black uniform. Mesmerized as her soft, painted lips moved as she talked to him.
Time shifted again, and they were walking on the banks of the Arno River. Their first kiss, the way he’d cupped her head, pulled her in, and the way her lips had melted against his, her body pressing softly to his hardness.
Shifting again, they were naked, lying in her flat as the sun rose, filling the small space with colors that danced over her naked skin. Her blonde hair fanned out on the white pillowcase as her eyes heated, her flesh turning pink as he pleased her.
He hears her cry of release, the sounds of pure pleasure that he had given her, that she had given him.
But the sounds turn from sounds of joy to wailing. Darkness floods his mind, blocking out the view of Blake. He searches in the growing darkness, reaching out for her, calling out her name, over and over. Still, he can’t find her anywhere. He looks around, realizing he is standing in a green field, its high hay blocking his view beyond a few feet. His arms reach out, he calls out her name over and over.
He jolted from the dream, his eyes slamming wide open. He blinked a few times before realizing the crying continued. Looking around, he glanced towards the windows and tensed. There she was, the figure in soft blue. Her hands reached out towards him as tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. When her eyes met his, he felt a pulse of sorrow flood him. If he’d been standing, it would have knocked him over.
“What?” He found his voice. “What happened to you?”
“Find her.” The sound drifted across him in the night.
“Who?” he asked, but it was too late, the figure was already fading.
He reached over and flipped on the light, already knowing that he was alone in the room. Running his hands over his face, he pulled his laptop over from the other side of the bed. There was no way in hell he was going back to sleep.
For the next three hours, he researched the house, checking every record he could find about anyone dying in the home. The only one he could find in the local paper
was the doctor who had built the place. He’d been found after he hung himself, in the winter of 1931, nine years after he’d finished building the home. The story that had spread around town was that the doctor had killed himself shortly after the house had been finished. Nine years was a lot longer than “shortly after.” Still, parts of the story were true. He had been engaged to a woman who had married a captain on the ship that brought her over to the States.
But that didn’t explain the woman who appeared in his bedroom every night.
When the sun came up, he showered and dressed, getting ready for the long day ahead of him. He was helping Parker demo the kitchen and couldn’t wait.
After downing coffee and a cold bagel, he heard a car pull into the drive. He smiled when he saw Blake’s truck park in the circular driveway.
Opening the side door off the laundry room, he waited for her to approach.
“Morning,” he called out when she climbed the three patio steps that led to the front double doors. She glanced to her left and spotted him.
“Morning.” She smiled.
“If those are donuts, I might just kiss you,” he joked. When he saw her steps falter, his smile grew even more.
“They are,” she said tightly. “And no kiss is necessary. Or wanted.”
He laughed and took the box from her since she was also carrying the case she’d brought with her yesterday.
He motioned for her to enter, then followed her in. Setting the box on the countertop, he sat down and nudged the seat next to him. “Breakfast first, then you can start. Parker should be here…” Just then he heard another car pull into the driveway. “Now. We’re demoing the kitchen today.” He smiled and bit into a chocolate donut.
She took a donut and nodded.
“Coffee?” he asked.
“Sure.”
He stood up and walked over to his coffee maker. “Black?”
“French vanilla, if you have it.”
“I do.” He smiled and pulled out a cup and a coffee pod and popped it into the maker.
Parker walked in the side door and called out.
“Morning,”
“In the kitchen,” Matthew called out. “Want some joe?”
“I won’t say no to it.” Parker stopped when he saw Blake sitting at the countertop. “Hi.”
“Parker, this is Blake Shelby, my new interior designer.” He set the cup for Parker down. “She brought donuts.” He smiled and took another one from the box.
“Sara and I had an early breakfast, but…” Parker reached in and grabbed a donut.
“You’re married to Matthew’s sister, correct?” Blake asked.
“Yes.” He smiled.
“Your wife is pregnant?”
“Right again.” Parker was beaming at this point.
“Congratulations.” Blake smiled up at him.
“Thanks. Her due date is December twentieth, but we’re shooting for a Christmas present.” He chuckled.
“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Blake asked, and Matthew moaned lightly, causing Blake’s eyes to move to his.
“Yes,” Parker answered, “one of those,” he joked.
“They’re keeping it a secret,” Matthew supplied. “Not telling anyone.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s killing the family.”
Parker laughed. “I think that’s why Sara wanted to keep it under wraps.”
“So, it was my sister’s idea?” Matthew rubbed his hands together.
Parker laughed and finished his donut. “Everything is your sister’s idea. Unless it’s a bad one, then it’s—”
“Yours,” Matthew broke in. “Yeah, that’s my sister. Both of them are like that.” He smiled.
“The guys should be here any minute.” Parker nodded to the kitchen. “I’d better get set up.”
“I just need to move the coffee maker.” Matthew moved the machine into the dining room. “I need to walk around the place with Blake first, before I start helping.”
“No problem. We’re going to try to salvage some of these cabinets. If you’re okay with it, we donate them to a charity out of Portland.”
“Sure. Take anything you want.” He motioned to Blake. “Ready?”
She nodded, took up her binder, and followed him.
“Okay, boss.” He smiled over at her. “Where do you want to start?”
“Your rooms. Master bedroom, bathroom, and what will be your office.” She started walking down the long hallway. “How do you feel about this wallpaper?” she asked him as they made their way past the stairs.
He shrugged and frowned. “It’s kind of yellow.”
She waited. “And?”
He stopped just outside his bedroom door. “Gold and yellow are my least favorite colors.”
She took a note down. “What are your favorites?”
“Blue, green.” He thought about it. “Tans.” He shrugged. “You know, more natural colors.”
She nodded. “Neutral? Yellow isn’t neutral?” She smiled.
“Not in mass quantities.” He chuckled as his eyes ran over her face. He reached up and touched her hair, running a strand of the golden locks through his fingers. “Now, if you could paint my walls the color of your hair…” He sighed slightly.
He felt her tense. Then she stepped back and said, “Okay, so hints of color?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, wishing to touch more of her, but instead, he tucked his hands into his pockets. “Hints of color are okay, soft colors are better, but…”—he opened the door to the master bedroom—“not this much color.” Gold wallpaper, gold curtains, and an almost-yellow carpet filled the room.
She smiled. “Gotcha.” She wrote a few notes. “You’ll be replacing all the flooring?” she asked.
So, she wanted to keep it all business. He could do that, for a time. He showed her the sample of the flooring Parker was going to install. She took it and wrote down the color in her notepad. “What about the popcorn ceilings?” She nodded up at them.
“He’s going to scrape them clean. Either do planks or resurface it with orange peel, whatever that is.” He shrugged.
She smiled. “It’s a soft texture drywall spray.” She made another note, then walked over to the bay windows.
Matthew tensed for a moment when she stepped into the same space the ghost had taken up the last two nights.
He was expecting… well, he didn’t know what. Something.
She pulled the curtains back and looked out. “Nice view,” she said after all three of the windows were exposed.
Since he’d moved in, he hadn’t even touched the curtains. Now, he slowly walked across the floor and glanced out. From this vantage point, he could see the small pond and the waterfall if he looked straight down. The small field and the water beyond were what Blake’s eyes were on.
“What do you think about a window seat here?” She motioned to the spot they stood in. “Change the bay window with a cozy spot to read or another area to sit and put on shoes.”
He nodded, liking the idea. “Sounds good.” He took a giant step back when a shiver ran down his spine.
His mind started wandering over what he’d seen the previous nights and all the questions he had flooded his mind. Who was the woman? How had she died? Why was she haunting his bedroom? Who did she want him to find?
When Blake’s voice interrupted his thoughts, he focused on the now again.
“The wallpaper will have to go. I can do that myself.” She made a note. “Are you okay with more wallpaper? If not, Parker will have to texture the walls.”
“Wallpaper is okay, as long as it’s not textured.” He walked over and ran a hand down the wall and felt the fuzzy bumps of the patterns.
She chuckled. “Or gold or yellow,” she added.
“Right.” He smiled.
“Are you keeping the king-size bed?” She nodded to his mattress. So far it was just sitting on the floor. He hadn’t purchased a bedframe.
“That’s the plan.” He smiled, holding back a
smooth comment about her trying it out.
“Do you have a frame?”
“Nope, I was hoping you’d help out in that arena. So far, what furniture you see is what I have. I’m flexible about getting rid of any of it, except the king-size bed. I’m tall,” he added.
She glanced up and down him then nodded. He stood back while she walked around the room, taking notes. She pulled out a small tape measure and took a few measurements of the windows and doors. She opened the sliding pocket door that led to the walk-in closet and made a few more notes.
“It’s almost… an office space.”
“Yes, I think it was built as a woman’s dressing room. A mirror along this wall, the table.” He motioned to the built-in.
“Now I see it.” She wrote a few more notes. “Would you like to keep it this way or…”
“It’s fine. I think it just needs some updates.”
“Okay.” She opened the next pocket door and entered the master bathroom. “Do you like the pocket doors?”
“They’re a little rusty and this one falls of the railing, but they are okay.”
“What about replacing them with more modern ones? Instead of this outdated wood-paneled door, we could do a barn door. They are very popular.”
“Sure.” He nodded.
The master bath was large. There was a long L-shaped countertop with two sinks, one on the far-left side and the other on the shorter section. Mirrored walls made the space feel almost double its size. Again, there was a small table area for a woman to sit and apply makeup. All of the space looked recently remodeled.
“It’s huge.” She sighed.
“Yeah. Look at the shower.” He opened the new glass doors Parker had installed. He could just imagine pulling Blake into the shower with him. Her wet and naked body next to his. Her skin sliding over his. He felt his body react to his wandering mind and focused again. “The new shower and fixtures are a pure pleasure.”
“Nice.” She wrote down a few notes. “I think with some fresh paint, the new floor, and a few area rugs, this room will be done. Are you doing hardwood in here too?”
