It’s navy blue. And that’s so like him. When I think of Dante, I think blue. Like his eyes.
The bed is huge and comfy, filled with dark blue throws and cushions and pillows. There is a handful of photo prints and a camera lying on the foot of the bed, presumably exactly how Dante left them before he left for the Old Palace over a week ago. I glance through them and find that they are pictures of the olive groves and a sunset. Romantic and dreamy. And he is really good at capturing beautiful pictures. I set them down.
The furniture here is heavy and there is a sitting area filled with photos in stacks on the end tables. I can see photos of me from here. And I’m not mad about it anymore. It’s clearly something that he loves to do. It’s not stalkerish. It’s just….him. And he’s really good at it.
There is an old picture of his mother smiling from an end-table. She is framed with ornate silver and she is glamorous and beautiful. There is another framed picture of Dante and his father. They are both standing on the edge of a boat, and the name of the boat is beneath them. The Daniella. I wonder if that is Dante’s mother’s name, but I can’t ask Dante because he’s already snoring from the bed. He’s still fully clothed and on top of the covers.
I decide that it is surely his mother’s name.
And goshdangit. I said surely again.
“Reece,” Dante says softly. He’s sleepy and warm and curled up on the bed. He stretches out and reaches for me. He doesn’t wince this time when he moves, so he’s either doing better or the pain meds are working. Probably a mixture of both.
I cross the room quickly and sit next to him.
“Thank you,” he whispers and reaches for my hand. “For staying with me.”
His hands are warm and have calluses from working with Darius. I stroke his thumb with mine. And just the mere touch of his skin sets mine on fire. It’s pathetic, because he’s broken and sore and sleepy. But the emotional toll of the past week has built up and now I’m aching for him to touch me.
His touch is real.
It means that he’s fine.
It’s a tangible thing.
And I need it.
He needs it too.
I know this because he pulls me down to him and I snuggle next to him, trying to make sure that I don’t bump his bruised ribs. He leans into me and kisses me, his lips soft on my own and I sigh into his mouth.
He groans, but not a painful groan.
A groan that tells me that he likes it.
Fire shoots through my stomach and into my heart and my hands start to roam.
They drift lightly over his shoulders, his back, his hips, his butt. He rolls carefully to his side now, facing me and his hands are moving too.
They’re everywhere.
And he’s kissing me.
And I can’t think.
He whispers my name and now I really can’t think. I love the sound of my name on his lips. It’s surreal. Like a dream.
But Dante’s hands are very real and the weight of them tells me that this is definitely not a dream.
And then he moves slightly and winces.
And that reminds me that this is definitely not a dream. And he is still injured. We shouldn’t be doing this.
I tell him that softly.
“Dante, you need to rest. You’re still injured. The doctor said you have to rest.”
He looks at me, his eyes all soft and liquid and my heart melts. Because he seems so vulnerable and his fragility in this moment makes him seem even more beautiful than usual. Even more beautiful than the tanned and handsome and confident Dante that he normally is.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers to me. And I startle.
“Sorry for that?” I ask in surprise.
“For taking advantage of you. You’re trying to help me and I’m taking advantage of that.”
He is so serious and I can’t help but laugh.
“You’re the cripple,” I point out. “Aren’t I the one taking advantage of you?”
He laughs quietly and I laugh, because it’s sort of true.
But then again, it’s not.
Because he wants me just as much as I want him.
And he tells me so.
And his voice is husky and sexy and I almost melt into a puddle.
“I’ll be rested up soon,” he tells me. And his voice contains a promise.
A soft and silky promise.
The fire shoots up through my belly again and I nod.
“I know,” I answer. I lean down and kiss his forehead and pull the coverlet up over him. “Sleep tight,” I tell him.
“Dream about me,” he answers as he closes his eyes.
Always, I think.
“Maybe,” I say.
He smiles with his eyes still closed and I decide that I could stand and watch him sleep forever. Then I decide that that’s creepy and stalkerish. So I quietly walk back to my room.
And I do dream about Dante.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Holy cow. Would you look at him?” Mia breathes.
Our noses are practically pressed against the window of the shop and we’re staring into the olive groves. There are tons of sweaty men out there but we’re focused on only one.
And sadly, it’s not Dante.
It’s a guy named Vincent. A summer field hand who Mia has decided that she cannot live without.
As I watch him sweating in the sun with his biceps bulging in the heat as he works, I have to hand it to Mia. If you’re going to decide that you can’t live without someone, it should definitely be someone as sexy as Vincent.
“What do you know about him?” I ask absently. Because honestly, with looks like his, it doesn’t matter. He’s tall, sandy-haired, brown-eyed, muscular and has a smile that girls would kill for. He also fills out his jeans like nobody’s business.
“Not much,” Mia admits. “His parents live out in the valley, apparently. They’re farmers. And so he’s an experienced field hand. As you can see,” and she motions toward him. “He makes an excellent and amazing field hand.”
I giggle and so does she.
Coincidentally, he looks in our direction and grins.
And we both sigh.
He’s completely sexy.
And Mia has a date with him tonight.
“I wonder how experienced his hands actually are?” Mia wonders aloud.
I know that she’s not talking about field-work now and we examine him again. The muscles in his back ripple as he twists on a cherry-picker to prune the trees back. His muscles flex and his hands are deft. We both sigh again.
“Experienced, I’m betting,” I finally answer.
“That’s alright,” Mia replies confidently. “It’s just as well. I’m not worried. I can handle anything.”
“So says the girl who’s never had a boyfriend,” I say.
She rolls her eyes and then the next group of tourists come in. We get busy and then I’m even busier watching for Dante, so we stop talking about it. But I know Mia is excited.
And I’m excited too, but for a different reason. Dante was finally released by the doctor to come back to work today, just two short weeks after his accident. His ribs have healed up and his bruises are almost gone. He feels great and I have to say, he looks great too.
Right this moment, he’s in the fields too, working with Darius. I find myself hoping that he doesn’t over-do it trying to prove himself. I watch as he bends over an olive branch and Darius shows him something on the bark. I have no idea what they’re doing or what they’re looking at, but Dante looks interested in it.
I hand out a few more cheese samples and look back for Dante.
He’s not there.
I sigh and turn back around.
“Looking for someone?”
He’s so cocky sometimes. I love that. I smile and fight the urge to drop the tray of samples and launch myself into his arms and wrap my legs around his waist. But I don’t want to re-crack his poor ribs. So instead, I smile.
�
��No one in particular. You here to get a sample?”
“Yep.”
I start to hand him a cracker, but he reaches around the tray and wraps his sweaty arm around my shoulders, pulling me to him for a kiss.
He tastes salty but I don’t care.
This is very uncharacteristic for him, to show this much of himself in public.
So I enjoy it while I can.
I enjoy it a lot while I can.
And I don’t care that tourists are watching us and smiling.
He finally pulls away and I’m breathless.
“Oh. That kind of sample. I don’t give those out to just anyone. So you’re lucky today.”
He smiles and I decide that I’m the lucky one.
“I came here for a purpose,” he announces. “Well, two purposes. One, to get a bottle of water. And two, to ask you out. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? Alone?”
Alone? What a concept.
We haven’t been alone since Dante left the hospital. Marionette has practically been Dante’s shadow over the past couple of weeks, fretting about him like a little mother hen. Dimitri has even been here a few times. He felt so horrible about not being able to bring Dante home from the hospital himself. We’ve had dinner in the main dining room with a group of people every night.
A real-honest-to-god date would be amazing. I nod.
“I’d love that. Where are we going?”
“We’ll meet here,” Dante says. I try to keep my face from falling. How will we be alone here? But Dante can read my expression and he laughs. “You have to trust me,” he tells me. “I’ll see you after work, okay? Meet me on the terrace at 6:00?”
I nod. “Okay. I’ll be there.”
He grins. “Think about me this afternoon.”
Always, I think.
“Maybe,” I say.
He grins again and disappears through the door after grabbing a bottle of water from the cooler. I can smell his scent lingering in the air even after he’s gone and I sniff at it. Mia shakes her head.
“You guys are sickening, just so you know,” she tells me.
“And you’re not? You and your lovesick moaning and groaning over Vincent?”
“It’s not love,” she informs me. “It’s lust, pure and simple. Get it straight, Kansas.”
I shake my head and try to think other thoughts to distract myself. Otherwise, it’s going to be a very long afternoon. 6:00 p.m. seems like a month away. I send a few texts to my mom, Becca and Grandma. Then I smile at a few more tourists. And all of that only took twenty minutes.
Sweet baby monkeys. Scratch that. 6:00 p.m. seems like two months away.
But time passes as it always does, even though I’m impatient and jittery and anxious.
At 5:00 p.m., Mia and I close up the shop and jump into the cart and she drops me off at the house. “Call me after your date,” she says with a ornery grin.
“Call me after yours,” I answer. She waves and heads to her car and I head into the house to shower.
What should a person wear on a mystery date? I rifle through my closet. I’ve gone shopping only a couple more times since I’ve been here. And I didn’t use my mom’s credit card, either. I used my paycheck from the gift shop. Since my every need is taken care of here, I don’t have anything else that I need to buy other than clothes. It’s a girl’s dream.
I decide on a pair of shorts and a white peasant blouse. I think that if it were going to be a formal date, Dante would have told me. Or sent me a formal gown like he did last time.
“Let me do your hair, ma chérie,” a quiet voice says from behind me. I turn to find little Marionette crossing my bedroom. I hadn’t even heard her come in.
I once again marvel at her size. She’s so tiny, like a little sprite with a gray bun. She makes me feel like an Amazon woman.
“You have a special date with Master Giliberti tonight, yes?”
Marionette smiles at me with her creased grin as she picks up a brush and tugs me onto the bed. She sits next to me and brushes out my hair. And I close my eyes. It’s been a really long time since anyone but me has brushed my hair. It’s nice.
“I don’t know where we’re going,” I tell her. “It’s a secret. Or a surprise, I guess.”
Marionette’s gnarled little hands run through my hair, feeling for tangles.
“Oh, don’t fret, little one,” she tells me. “Master Dante is very thoughtful. He’s always been. He takes after both of his parents in that way.”
“You knew his mother.” The realization dawns on me and I turn to face her.
Marionette is nodding. “Ah, yes, I did. A gentler woman than Daniella will never be found on this earth.”
Daniella.
So, they did name their boat after her.
“What was she like?” I ask. “I only wonder because it makes me sad that Dante didn’t get to know her. I can’t imagine what that must be like. And I’m very glad that he’s had you, Marionette.”
She practically preens in front of me at my praise.
“Daniella was a very gentle spirit. She was a free spirit, so beautiful and kind. And she couldn’t wait for Dante to be born. She looked forward to it every day of her pregnancy. What happened was a tragedy. It’s been a pleasure for me, watching him grow up,” she says thoughtfully as she stares past me. “He was such a good little boy. He was sunny and cheerful from the moment he was born, just like his beautiful mama. He’s turned into a good man. I’m proud of him. And I don’t want to see him get hurt, either. He’s had too much pain in his life already.”
Marionette’s tone has turned stern and I look at her in surprise. Was that directed at me?
“Um, I’m not going to hurt him, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I tell her. “Marionette, he’s way out of my league. Way, way out there. If anyone does any hurting, it will be him, I’m sure.”
Marionette laughs and I don’t see what’s funny.
“Ah, little one,” she says as she pulls the sides of my hair back and twists them into a clasp. “In that way, you’re very like his mother. Very modest. You have a natural glow about you. It’s charming. And you don’t realize how beautiful you are. And that is charming, as well. A girl like Elena, well, she knows what her strengths are and uses them to her every advantage. I’m very happy that Dante has chosen you. Very happy, indeed. Elena was wrong for him. And I think that you’re the right one. But I still don’t want you to hurt him. Even inadvertently.” She pokes at my shoulder for emphasis.
Inadvertently. She does know fluent English. Dante was right.
I tell her so and she laughs again.
“Don’t tell anyone,” she instructs me. “It comes in handy to pretend I don’t understand. Or that I can’t hear. I can hear everything, trust me.”
Her eyes are eagle sharp and I have no doubt that her ears are, as well. I nod.
“Now then, sweet. You are ready. Don’t keep my boy waiting. He’s taking you somewhere special.”
And she was gone. My word. She moves quickly for an older person.
I have only a few minutes to spare, so I shoot some quick emails to my mom, my dad and my grandma. My grandpa doesn’t have an email account, but grandma reads him messages from hers.
And then it’s 5:55.
Finally.
I think paint could have dried faster than it took for this day to pass.
I close the lid to my laptop and make my way to the back terrace.
And Dante is already there waiting for me.
The sun is starting to sink over the horizon and Dante stands directly against that backdrop. And I can’t decide what is more beautiful. The sunset or him.
He’s wearing black slacks and a short sleeved grayish-blue v-neck. And it hugs his chest and makes his eyes look slightly gray and is striking against his blonde hair. Can he get any more beautiful? Seriously. Couldn’t God have given Dante just a tiny little imperfection so that he didn’t distract me quite so easily?
He s
ees me and smiles and greets me with a sweet kiss on the forehead, which of course makes my heart automatically melt. I can practically feel it dripping into my ribcage.
“Did you have a good day?” Dante asks politely.
I nod. “Yep. A little slow. You?”
“A tortoise could have crawled faster than today passed,” he tells me. “I couldn’t wait to see you.”
My heart picks up because this mirrors my feelings exactly. And boys back home wouldn’t ever say such a thing even if they thought it. Dante is so different.
And could Marionette be right? Is it possible that this beautiful, perfect boy likes me as much as I like him?
“Your carriage awaits,” he tells me.
He gestures with his arm and I look and there is an honest-to-god carriage sitting at the steps leading to the terrace. With an honest-to-god beautiful white horse pulling it.
I stare at it in shock. How did I not see that when I first walked outside?
“I thought that Caberra doesn’t have horses?” I ask, scrambling down the steps to pet the huge horse’s velvet nose. It huffs a pant of hot air against my cheek and I stroke its soft neck. “Yes, you’re a pretty baby,” I murmur to it.
“We didn’t. I had this one brought in for you. You seemed to miss riding,” he shrugs casually, like it didn’t cost a ton of money to do this incredibly thoughtful thing for me.
I’m speechless. For the first time in… ever. And I tell him that.
“I doubt it will last long,” he says wryly and then laughs. And I slap at his arm. And his arm is like a rock. Working out in the fields with Darius has made him even more muscular if that is even possible.
Gulp.
He holds out a hand.
“Would you like to go for a drive?”
Would I ever.
He moves to take my hand and because his eyes are locked with mine, he doesn’t see the giant pile of horse poop sitting in front of him. And he steps in it.
We both freeze and he’s horrified and I’m horrified and I don’t know what to do.
But laugh.
Because it smells so bad.
And he looks so perfect and refined and beautiful and his foot is covered in fresh horse manure and it’s even funnier because he’s never been around a horse before. It’s too hilariously insane.
Dante’s Girl Page 17
