by SJ Molloy
“Why don’t you just put it in an undone bun or ponytail, and when we go to town we’ll buy you a new one. Somehow I don’t think Sofia will own hair straighteners.”
“Okay, but just so you know, I’m not in form. I’m glad it’s quiet here. Don’t take any photos tonight.”
“You know I don’t do photos anyway, so relax.”
I look around her room while she gets ready. She hasn’t unpacked, and the case is lying open on the floor. It will look like a bomb has attacked it in three days’ time, and I will await the drama that accompanies it. Hazel looks lovely with a purple camisole and black flared skirt on, hair back in a messy bun.
And face scorched red.
Chapter 9
Fears Resurrected
We walk down the spiral staircase and along the ground floor hallway, passing quaint little nooks with comfortable looking chairs and tables and books. It looks relaxing; feels relaxing. There is Italian music playing, Because We Believe by Andrea Bocceli. I absolutely love this song. I turn to Hazel and smile. While she wanted to see Coldplay perform, I was losing myself in Italian operatic ballads.
Hazel shakes her head and laughs. “Typical, bloody typical,” she says sarcastically.
“Well, you’re not going to hear David Guetta or Foo Fighters in a Tuscan villa are you?” I reply with a huge smile on my face.
We hear voices and laughter from inside the huge living area, and the music gets louder as we approach the entrance. Entering the room, Pippa and Laurence are sitting on the large sofa near an open fire clutching a glass of red wine each and giggling away. I notice Pippa’s hair is out of its braid, straight down her shoulders, and I see Hazel look in envy at her straight hair. I won’t be surprised if Hazel asks to borrow Pippa’s straighteners for our duration.
Maurizio is standing at the far side of the lounge and talking to someone. Another new guest? Franco passes us a glass of chilled Prosecco as we enter and just as I go to take a sip, Maurizio turns around to head through to the dining area.
Shock.
Stranger.
Stalker.
I gasp and drop my champagne flute in sheer shock as I catch a full glimpse of the mystery new guest he was talking to. The room goes silent, and everyone turns around to look at me. I’m frozen on the spot as the stranger stares at me with a worried puzzled look. It takes me a few moments of confusion and numbness to turn to a fretful Franco and apologize, then I burst into shameful tears.
I run away.
Down the hallway, through the archway, and outside onto the terrace to hide myself from everyone, trying to compose myself and make sense of this.
I stop at the pergola area, looking out to the spectacular Tuscan night views. Putting my warm hands over my face, I start to heave huge big sobs, holding nothing back filled with angst and uncertainty. My breathing is erratic and uncontrollable. I am such a fool. I can’t even go to another country without being daunted. I need to go home. I can’t stay here. This changes everything.
I hear Hazel’s footsteps behind me. She walks up and puts her arms around me, then kisses the side of my head. “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you going to tell me what just happened there?” Her voice is softer than normal; careful.
Shaking my head, and closing my eyes, I blurt out, “I can’t stay here, Hazel. I have to go home. Please, just take me home.”
“Okay, but not until you tell me what’s wrong.”
She really would do that for me, I know she would, but then jokingly cast it up for a million years that I ruined her vacation only to add to my guilt.
I open my helpless eyes, which are now wet, and raw. Taking a huge breath, I say, “The man, the man Maurizio was talking to, I know him.”
“Who? The sexy, Italian God? The handsome one who I’m tempted to jump on?”
“Yes, him. He came into the clinic yesterday and I treated him. I think he has followed me here.” She looks unconvinced. “I’m being stalked. Isn’t it obvious?”
“Maybe there is an explanation. Maybe it’s a coincidence.” Hazel tries to sound convincing.
“Don’t be silly. What are the chances? I am doomed. It’s my worst friggin nightmare happening again.”
I start crying again, my chest pounding, heaving up and down as I do. Hazel is struggling to calm me. “Stop being so melodramatic and keep an open mind. We don’t know he is stalking you. You need to calm down,” she says, rubbing my back.
Sofia slowly approaches us, gauging the situation. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I’m worried about you, Lexi dolcezza. Will you talk to me, bella ragazza?”
She is so caring and warm, and I know she means well. She genuinely looks worried. I nod, agreeing to talk with her. It is the least I can do for her warm hospitality.
“Hazel, can you give us a minute? Sweetheart, Franco will sort you more drinks.”
Hazel looks at me for approval. I gesture half-heartedly for her to go, and she hesitantly walks back towards the villa. Sofia places her hand over my shoulder to comfort me.
“Did you run out here because you saw Lucca back there?”
“Yes, I’m sorry,” I say shamefully.
“Lexi, he is hurt. He did not mean to cause you any pain or upset you, and he is embarrassed that he is responsible for making you cry,” Sofia explains
“I’m so sorry, Sofia. You must think I’m awful. Such a rude guest. Please apologize to Franco for the smashed glass and the exhibition I made of myself. I’m mortified,” I reply, quivering in my own skin.
“No, bella ragazza, you don’t need to apologize. We always say that emotions are better out than in, and a problem shared is a problem halved. As long as you’re okay, that’s the main thing. You’re anything but rude, young lady, and forget about the glass. They can be replaced, hearts can’t. You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to, and I will understand, but Lucca would like to speak with you. He feels he needs to explain. Can you do that for me? Speak with my Nipote?”
“Nipote?” I ask curiously.
“Si, Lucca is our grandson.”
Oh dear Lord.
I feel faint, hot and dizzy, and everything is spinning. “I need to sit.”
Stumble...
Spin….
Blackness.
***
I’m trying to escape. I’m running through the bush.
He’s chasing me ... he’s shouting at me ... my bare feet are hurting and bleeding ... it’s dark ... it’s hot ...
I’m scared.
I can’t get away.
I need away.
I open my eyes, and it takes a few attempts as my lashes are sticking together with dry saltiness. I blink a few times, focusing my hazy vision on two glorious, bright, azure-blue eyes staring down at me. I inhale him, filling my lungs ... the scent, I know it.
I’m so confused, have I been captured? Although his eyes appear warm and loving, he looks mystified, scared. I’m helpless, admiring his perfection. He is a vision of true beauty, more so than the stunning views from my balcony.
Fuck!
File M for Mesmerized. Mesmerized by these enchanting eyes.
Why would an abductor look so loving, so kind and gentle? Clearing my dry throat, I need answers.
“Where am I? Have you taken me? Am I going to die?” I softly stutter.
He looks wounded. Horrified even. “No. Jesus, no. Why would I want to do that? Thank God you‘re okay. You had us all worried. Do you know where you are?” he asks.
I think I do, but I’m too engrossed with his sexy husky voice to answer. I ‘m lost for words.
“Fuck. You’re in your room here at the villa,” he says in his sexy as hell mixed accent, stifled with worry.
“Lucca!” a female voice scolds.
“Sorry,” he replies, then touches the side of my face with the palm of his hand and holds it there.
I close my eyes again, trying to collect my thoughts together while feeling his warm smooth touch. He uses his other h
and to sweep my hair away from my face. It’s electrifying, the same intense chemistry I felt when I had to massage his back, and it is surprisingly nice. My body likes this.
God, what has happened to me?
My toes flick and my legs shake in response. He places a smooth hand on them to hold me still, trying to relax me. “Doc, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re going to be fine,” he says with compassion.
I hear Hazel squawking in the background, and Franco mumbling on about something in Italian to Sofia. When I try to turn around, I moan. My head hurts so badly; it’s pounding, heavy as though I have been beaten up.
“Ouch, my head hurts. It’s so painful.” I groan.
“Please don’t try to move. You must have slammed your head on the concrete when you collapsed,” Lucca explains.
“Collapsed?” I shout in panic. What is happening to me?
“Yes. Please, don’t panic. You’ll make yourself more anxious. You were talking to Nonna, and you passed out. We heard screaming and we ran outside. We all just got such a fright. Fuck, I thought my heart was crushed seeing you lie there helplessly.”
Nonna, that’s right. I remember now, Sofia told me she was his grandmother.
“Lucca! Language, young man,” Sofia protests again. Oh, God. This is such a mess. I am so embarrassed. I’m scared, apprehensive and nervous.
I need to go home.
Lucca lets go of my cheek and takes my hand, resting it at my side whilst speaking Italian to his grandparents. Heat, chemistry and sparks of undiluted energy are surging through my veins. I actually miss his touch to my cheek; it was intimate and sensitive and foreign, but not undesirable. I sigh sadly as he releases the tender embrace.
What the hell is happening? I must have brain damage, that’s why my head is throbbing. I would never allow these crazy thoughts. My brain has been damaged as a result of falling, and this explains it.
“Lexi, I have some water and pain killers for you. Do you think you can lift your head to swallow these?” Sofia asks, seeming agitated from the other side of the bed. I lift my head, and I drop right back down, crashing into the pillow as I do so.
“Lucca, put your hand at the nape of her head. Help her,” demands Sofia. I try again, pushing my elbows into the mattress and raising slightly to allow Lucca to put his hand under my head. Sofia passes me the tablets and water, and I manage to get them down just before I plummet back onto the soft pillow, on Lucca’s hand this time.
This position means he is close to my face, leaning over me, but he doesn’t move. I close my eyes briefly, but sense him staring at me, watching me. I feel his hot, fresh, sweet smelling breath on my face and neck, his crystal eyes diving into me, his sexy scent drugging me deeper into my trance. Repositioning, his nose is almost touching mine. His hot breath skims over my lips which quiver in response. He gently slides his hand out and places it back on my cheek. My body likes this; it’s responding by alerting my dormant libido. He rubs his thumb under my eye. No doubt I look like a zombie with stained black mascara.
“Lexi, I think you need to go to the hospital to get checked by a doctor,” Franco states.
“No. No, I’m fine. I’ll be great after I have slept it off, and I’m sure I’ll be okay tomorrow. If not, I promise I’ll go to the hospital. I’ve fainted before and I’m always fine the next day, honestly.”
After a few minutes of debating about this with Hazel and Franco, I manage to convince them I will go to the hospital tomorrow.
“Lexi, we are going to go back downstairs to make sure Maurizio is handling dinner okay. Hazel you must be hungry, please come back down and join us, Lexi, we will have some food brought up for you. I think you and Lucca need to talk.”
Sofia looks over at Hazel who is sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking my shoulder and arm. Funny, I never registered her touch before. I’d only felt the touch from Lucca.
“Thank you, Sofia, but I want to stay here with Lexi.” She knows better than to leave me alone.
Sofia mumbles something in Italian to Lucca, obviously prompting him. “Please, Lexi, I just want to talk to you alone, I owe you an explanation.” His voice is breaking, and I see the grief in his eyes.
Hazel shrugs her shoulders, waiting for my response. “Okay, I’m not exactly going anywhere. Hazel go downstairs and get some dinner. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Sofia comes over to my bed and kisses my cheek. “Thank you, bella Lexi. Lucca will take great care of you. He’s a good boy, very loving.”
When I look at Sofia, her eyes seem more tired; strained, not sparkling as they were earlier, I must have given her a huge fright. I’m overwhelmed by their kindness, which makes me feel guilty. I feel myself starting to cry again, stray tears leaking from my eyes travel down my cheek onto Lucca’s soft hand. A manuscript of mixed emotions, consisting of humiliation and pain, anxious grief and neediness, is overtaking my internal filing cabinet.
“I’m so sorry, Sofia and Franco. I have interrupted your dinner and caused you much stress. I truly am sorry.”
Franco walks over to the bed and kisses my head. “Bella Lexi, you are a very sweet girl. Please do not worry yourself with such thoughts. Your wellbeing is most important.”
Sofia agrees, taking Hazel’s hand to walk towards the door.
“Lex, if you need me, call my mobile. I’ll take it downstairs with me,” Hazel says, drawing a hesitant glare at Lucca and silently warning him with caution in her cadence before she is ushered out.
The room is silent. I can’t speak, and I don’t know what to say. Lucca uses his thumb, and carefully wipes away the tears rolling down my cheeks. He is very attentive. Perhaps a bit to attentive, but I can’t exactly move or do much myself, and I have been cornered into this predicament, so I need to be brave and to go with it. I feel as though I’m losing my self-control. This is not good, but the feel of Lucca’s skin is enticing. It’s kind of nice.
Brain damage.
He looks amazing in a fitted, black designer shirt that hugs every muscle of his toned arms and chest.
“How did I get back here to my bed?” I break the ice first.
“I carried you,” he explains.
I raise my eyebrows. Oh. Great. “Was I out of it for long?”
“Just a short time. I panicked when I saw you lying on the ground. Your pulse seemed erratic and you were muttering about running. We didn’t want to leave you outside on the cold concrete, so Sofia wanted to get you up to bed. She seemed to know what to do. Your friend Hazel was frantic. She was screaming, but then said you have a habit of fainting.”
“I’m mortified. Your poor grandparents. What must they think of me?” I mumble.
“What, those two? They will outlive us all. They are tough as old boots and very compassionate. How are you feeling?”
“My head hurts like mad, and my left arm and leg are aching. I must have bruised them with the fall, and I feel a little sick if I’m honest. I’ll be fine, though. I’ve fainted before and I’m sure after I sleep I’ll be grand.”
“I wish I could take this feeling away, Lexi. I’m so sorry to cause you distress. Really, I am. I need to explain. It kills me that I cause you to faint and upset you.”
“Lucca, wait. My shoulder and arm stings like hell. I think I’ve cut it. There’s antiseptic cream in my first aid bag in the ensuite.” I need to sort myself out first before I get his explanation.
“You cut your arm when you fell. Nonna said you banged and tore it on the corner of the patio table on the way down. Don’t worry, she bathed it and dressed it for you when you were coming around. She managed to stop the bleeding. It isn’t too deep, but perhaps you need stitches or glue. I don’t know. I’m not good with this sort of stuff.” He rubs my cheek while he says this.
God, it feels divine.
I reach my right hand over and feel the dressings on my shoulder and around my arm. It’s stirring up memories. I feel sick, very sick. Closing my eyes, I think about my mother bathing the wounds on my ba
ck after the whipping. Panic flares up inside me.
Oh God. I can’t hold it in.
“I’m going to be si-”
I try to alarm him; Lucca instinctively turns my head to the side and pulls my hair away. I vomit all over the pillow, coughing, retching and spurting, thankfully missing my hair.
Oh God, please kill me now.
My head is thumping, my neck is strained, and I want to close my eyes and never wake up from this mess.
There is sweat dripping from my brow. What a state to get myself in. “Lucca, I’m sorry. I wish I could just d-”
“Lexi, please don’t apologize, It’s alright. I’m going to help you, we need to get you better.” He slides me further across the bed, away from the vomit. I can’t believe I’m allowing a stranger to man handle me, but I’m not in a position to object.
“Are you going to be sick again?” he asks. I slowly shake my head to answer no. “I’m going to get a facecloth and some water for you. Don’t worry about the bed. Maria, the maid, will get it. These things happen. As long as you’re okay, that is important.” He gets up off the edge of the bed and walks toward the en suite.
“Would you mind getting my toothbrush and some toothpaste,” I ask. Now there is a question I never thought I would be asking a stranger.
He returns with toothpaste already on the toothbrush, I try to brush my teeth, but my arms are heavy, sore and lifeless, and slump back down.
“Here, let me. Open your mouth.” I do it because I would rather a few seconds feeling uncomfortable than having a long-winded uncomfortable chat with horrible breath. He gently brushes my teeth then gives me water to rinse, he holds his hand behind my head then lifts my head up, I spit into the glass he wipes under my mouth with his thumb. He gives me fresh water to drink, then places my head back down. Wiping my mascara from under my eyes, then continues over my face and neck. The warm face cloth feels lovely against my forehead, cheeks and chin; I close my eyes and let him clean all the sticky, sweat and saltiness away. I am dreading what I look like, I must look horrific, and it’s an unbearable thought. Then it occurs to me that both times I have met this stranger, I’ve been crying and looking frightful.
