We pulled into a stop with dozens of other tourists, and I dreamily followed Salvatore up what felt like a long way. I didn’t even ask where we were going, and he didn’t tell me. We just walked up and up, passing others who were meandering or pointing at various things in the distance. I didn’t see any of it, I just let myself be led and let go. Let go of control, of doubt, of fear, of bitterness, resentment, pride… Anything that had gotten in the way or could get in the way, I let go of.
I just wanted to be for a while.
With him.
Finally, we slowed and I glanced up to see a towering replica of Michelangelo’s David atop a monument. It was powerful and stirring, the Piazzale Michelangelo, and we slowly made our way around it, Salvatore translating the Italian on it for me.
Then I saw it.
My breath caught as a complete panorama of Florence was stretched out before me, the late afternoon light casting stark shadows and illuminating other aspects of the city that any other view might have missed. The colors were bright and vibrant, and the city seemed like something out of a dream, more of a photograph or a landscape from a gallery like the ones we had seen than something real and tangible.
It was stunning.
“I had to get you up here,” Salvatore murmured, coming up next to me. “You had to see this. I thought about getting a canvas and easel and some paints, but I had no idea what to get you. I just wanted to see what you could do with a view like this.”
I suddenly ached somewhere deep inside, longing for exactly what he had described. This scene would have been amazing to try my hand at, though I would never have been able to capture it completely.
“It is a real shame,” he sighed heavily. “I am so sorry I couldn’t arrange that for you. You would have done a magnificent job.”
There was real regret in his voice, and it settled everything for me.
Absolutely everything.
I turned and looked at him, hardly able to catch my breath. “I’ve changed my mind.”
“About what?” he asked, still looking out over the view.
“Being friends.”
He froze, then blinked slowly and turned to look at me, raising one perfect Monterran brow in question.
I nodded almost frantically. “I want the more.” I slid my hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down for an equally frantic kiss, almost sobbing with the relief of feeling his lips on mine. I arched up, straining on my tiptoes to find a way to get closer to him, giving up any pretense of restraint or distance.
He let me lead, and let me break off a moment later, though there was a short moan of agony when I did.
I touched his face, stroked his jaw, and drummed my fingers on the back of his neck as I sighed. “Give me more.”
“Senz’altro!” he murmured, cupping my face and kissing me back, now taking a much more active role, as well as all control.
I let him. I happily gave up all control of this kiss to his skilled and most excellent care, letting him wring all of the tenderness and sweetness from me that was possible and then some. I linked my fingers behind his neck and let myself be kissed at his leisure, kissing him back in equal measure. There was no frantic passion, no mad race to the finish. It was a slow, leisurely, lingering kiss that could have gone on for hours and days without either of us noticing.
When we’d had our fill, he pressed his brow to mine, smiling in my favorite way. “Well, I must admit I am relieved. The rest of the evening would not have gone nearly so well had it been forced to be strictly platonic.”
I leaned back, my hands still around his neck. “What’s next?”
He stroked my cheeks, grinning. “Next we find a place to get dressed up, and I take you out on the town.” He kissed me quickly. “Please tell me you brought sexy heels like I asked.”
Now it was my turn to grin, and I made it as devilish as I could. “Oh, don’t you worry, my dear Duca di Brista. I will probably need your arm to steady me all night.”
Salvatore groaned and leaned his head back in apparent delight. “My arm and all the rest of me are at your service, fatina.”
And with that, he hurried me back down the hill to the scooter, where I held him tightly, and we rushed back into the Oltrarno district, where our reservations were.
I was quick to change, surprisingly nervous and fluttery in my tight navy dress. I’d opted for long sleeves and a short skirt, grateful this was a good summer for my legs. They would never look as lean and taut and towering as Thalia’s, but with my nude heels, a good four, if not five, inches, they would look as good as was humanly possible for me. It would have to be enough.
I came out of the bathroom and held my breath, heading towards him. He was leaning against a table in the small restaurant, his head down. He wore a grey suit, but no tie, the collar of his white shirt hanging open at the throat. He had gone from an attractive man to something unspeakably gorgeous. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to forget whatever he had planned for the night and just be with him.
He looked up at my approach, and the look in his eyes spoke volumes.
I had to revise my previous thought; at that moment, I wanted nothing more than him.
“Claire…” he breathed, straightening up from the table, his eyes wandering over my form.
I blushed from my head to my toes, feeling more self-conscious and yet more alive than I ever had in my life. “Will I do?” I asked, turning to show him the back of the dress.
It was mostly backless but for a strap across the top, and I happened to know my back looked pretty fantastic these days.
Salvatore made a choking sound, which I took to be an agreement, and I turned back to face him, smirking to myself.
He swallowed hard. “Tu sei la cosa più bella che abbia mai visto,” he managed to say, though his voice barely sounded like his.
I could only catch the word bella, and I knew what that meant. “I’m not sure what you said,” I told him, coming over and unnecessarily fixing his lapel. “But I think my response ought to be ‘Thank you’.”
He nodded once, still looking dazed. “And I thank you, bella. Grazie. Grazie mille.”
I could have melted against him for all time, but I settled for rolling my eyes and patting his chest. “Andiamo, Romeo. Take me away for whatever you have planned.”
“As you wish, fatina,” he replied, settling his hand on my waist. “But first…” He leaned in for a kiss, which he kept very controlled and very gentle, and still it stirred me deeply.
There was no ice in me now.
There was nothing but heat.
Our dinner was at a sweet Tuscan restaurant owned and operated by a local family with a rich Florence history, and they gave us what they considered the “Tour of Tuscany” in the form of a meal, or several meals. By the end of it, I was more concerned about how I would look in my now very tight dress than I was about what the rest of the evening would hold. I felt like a whale, and I was quite sure someone was going to ask me about my pregnancy once we left this place and went on with the night. But it was delicious and a perfect meal to end our day.
It was a short walk from our restaurant to the concert we were attending at the Church of Santa Monaca, or Chiesa di Santa Monaca, where a small symphony and several local opera singers regaled us with classic numbers from their favorite Italian composers. I had been to several shows and operas over the years, and I couldn’t even say this was one of the better ones I had attended. But there was something special about it. I was here with Salvatore in this glorious church in this incredible city, and I was different.
I was not at all the same woman I was when I had arrived. There was very little about her that remained at all. I smiled now. I laughed. I drew whenever I could, and saw the art in everything around me.
I had found something here after all.
And found someone.
Except he had been there all along.
I was very quiet on the scooter ride back to the villa, my arms tigh
t around Salvatore. I leaned my head against him, loving the way he felt, and the way I felt…
Then I surprised myself by turning my head and kissing his neck, just where his neck and shoulder met, and just a little bit.
He stiffened slightly, so I did it again, smiling to myself.
He turned to glance at me. “Don’t do that when I can’t reciprocate,” he ordered.
I shivered and hugged myself somehow closer, resting my chin on his shoulder. “Then hurry up.”
He pushed the scooter faster, making me laugh.
Soon enough, we were back at the villa, but instead of going straight in, Salvatore took my hand and led me around back to the terrace. The stars were glorious in the pre-moon sky, dancing merrily in the heavens.
He removed his jacket and tucked it around me, then pulled me back against his chest, gently pressing his lips along my cheek and neck at random intervals. I pulled his arms tighter around me, resting against him as I looked up at the skies.
“Tomorrow is the last night,” I murmured.
He hugged me close and smiled against my neck. “Yes, it is.”
“There is supposed to be a farewell kiss at midnight.”
He nodded slowly. “So I’d heard.”
I hummed to myself. “I wonder who I’ll be kissing.”
I felt Salvatore’s low chuckle behind me. “I don’t know. He’d better be worth it, though.”
“I never kiss with anything less,” I insisted with a sniff.
His arms tightened even more. “Do you think they will make a big deal out of it?”
I snorted. “Absolutely. Probably has to be the best farewell kiss of our lives or imaginations or something.”
He sighed, and I sighed with him. “That is a lot to live up to.”
He wouldn’t have any trouble with that, and my knees weakened at the thought of it. “Well,” I said, trying for an off-hand tone, “we’ll just have to see what happens.”
“I guess so.” He kissed my neck again, this time with some insistence, then placed his fingers under my chin to tilt my head back. “Non posso vivere senza di te, Claire Sutherland. Voglio passare la vita con te.”
The words were lost on me, but the tone set fire to my bones and I reached my hand back to his hair, pulling him closer with a sigh. “I don’t know what that means,” I whispered, “but I like the way it sounds.”
He grinned and nuzzled against me softly. “It’s even better to say, believe me.” He kissed me then, and there was no more time for talking.
I didn’t mind. I could say everything I needed to just like this.
CHAPTER NINE
I had to find Thalia or Rosalia, if not both, immediately. Before Salvatore could find me. Breakfast was always a risky time, I never knew who would be around or when. And as I had never paid any particular attention to who tended to come at any particular time, there was no way of knowing when they might show.
But I had to find them if I wanted tonight to be as magical as I had imagined.
The last night of the house party.
Quite possibly the end of the magic, if it had to end at all.
I was desperate to grasp at it. I wanted to keep the magic, harness it and let it carry me wherever it wanted. I didn’t want any of this to end.
It was terrifying and exciting and exhilarating all at the same time.
And I had to do what I could to make it last. Salvatore loved speaking to me in Italian, making me swoon with whatever he was saying, even if he were asking me for crackers for his soup. And I knew he loved hearing me say anything in Italian, even if I were asking for crackers for my soup.
So I needed to learn Italian.
Not fluently, of course. I knew full well I would never master the language in so short a time, or even be able to carry on a real conversation; I was not that naive nor that ambitious. But I had to learn how to say something. It was the least I could do, and something I thought would mean the most.
Maybe… Just maybe…
It would be enough.
I spotted them both in the corner and dashed over to them, which had to be surprising, as I was in sweatpants and no makeup, though my hair was dry, at least. Not styled, but dry.
There was no time for appearances here.
Rosalia jumped to her feet quickly at my approach while Thalia simply went wide-eyed. “Claire!” Rosalia said with some concern. “What happened to you?”
“What?” I half barked, not knowing what she meant.
She reached out and flicked the tag of my loose shirt, hanging free behind my neck. “Your shirt is inside out, amica. You are not dressed. You have on no makeup.” She shrugged and looked at Thalia for confirmation.
Thalia nodded. “It’s very shocking, Claire. What’s wrong?”
I sat down next to them, leaning forward anxiously. “I need your help.”
They sat and leaned in closer. “With what?” Rosalia asked, her eyes now wide.
Thalia smirked. “Salvatore? Please tell me this has to do with Salvatore.”
Rosalia looked at her in shock. “Che cosa? What about Salvatore?” She looked between us both in confusion.
Thalia gave me a dubious look. “She’s not the most observant girl I’ve ever met, but she’s too sweet to criticize.”
I managed to snort a laugh. “Catch her up later. I need you to help me make tonight… special.”
“Si,” Rosalia replied, nodding repeatedly. “Whatever we can do.”
“What do you need?” Thalia asked, looking both interested and mischievous.
I swallowed and looked around quickly. “I need to learn some Italian. Something in Italian. Anything, really.”
“I highly doubt you want to say just anything,” Thalia teased, smiling fully.
I was in no mood for being teased right now. “No, I don’t,” I snapped. “I need it to be meaningful. I need it to convince him that… That…” Words failed me, and I looked at them both in desperation. “Will you help me?”
“Of course,” they chimed as one.
Rosalia reached out to take my hand. “When do you need us to help you?”
I swallowed hard, relief and panic warring within me. “Later. He’s taking me out today, and I want to say whatever it is I say tonight. Not before. If anything changes, I won’t need to say it. But…”
“You’ll say it,” Thalia assured me with a wink. “I’ve seen you and him all this week. This is big.”
Rosalia suddenly gasped. “You’re the reason I find him so changed!”
I winced and tried to shush her.
“He’s not even looked at any of the girls here,” she continued, her voice only marginally lower. “I’ve been getting complaints about it from some of the others! I gave them other options, of course, but they all assumed that…”
“We all assumed,” Thalia offered.
I nodded. “So did I. I never expected…” I had to smile. “Well, I just never thought it would be like this.”
The girls squealed, and instead of finding myself annoyed by the girlishness, I laughed at it. I felt the same energy surging into my limbs as if directly from my heart, and I could barely contain it.
But there were things to do, and I couldn’t sit around all day and moon about him. I got up from the table and smiled at my friends, stunned that I could consider them friends. “When I get back from wherever he is taking me, can we meet up? Then you can teach me and we can get ready for the formal together.”
Rosalia nodded quickly. “Marco is taking me horseback riding, but we should be back in time.”
Thalia snorted and folded her arms. “Nobody is taking me anywhere, so I have all the time in the world.” She grinned, which was a relief.
If I had been her, I would have been particularly bitter about that. Which only proved she was a better person than I.
No surprises there.
“Thank you,” I told them both with more sincerity than I had ever felt in my life.
“Go get re
ady!” Thalia urged, waving me off. “You can’t see Salvatore looking like that.”
On that, we could agree, and I raced back upstairs without breakfast to get myself ready. It was going to be a big day, I could feel it. An important day.
Something special.
The night before we’d decided to spend our free day away from Florence, seeing a bit of the Tuscan countryside and even the shoreline. It would be a bit of a drive, but neither of us minded very much. We really wanted to see Livorno, a popular coastal town with apparently much to offer, and Salvatore assured me there would be plenty of opportunities to find inspiration for my art there.
I couldn’t wait.
Fully dressed in my boyfriend jeans and striped tee, straw hat and boat shoes in place, almost natural-looking makeup triple checked, I made my way downstairs and out to the car. Salvatore had texted me about twenty-six times during the getting ready process, little things to make me smile or laugh, cute phrases in Italian that my phone translated for me, and suggestions for what to wear that I would never listen to. Then he’d texted me this: “I can’t wait to see you.”
Oh, my heart…
It had been doing that a lot lately. I only barely resembled myself anymore; I wanted to smile and laugh, wanted to be in his arms more than anywhere else, and found myself somewhat lost when he wasn’t around. I wanted to tell him all my thoughts, silly or serious, and I wanted to hear him say my name in that beautiful accent of his. It was keeping me distracted all the time, and making sense hard to come by.
Last night, trying to fall asleep, I’d realized the problem: I was falling in love with him. Or, rather, I was already in love with him.
I could barely breathe with that revelation living in my chest, but somehow I’d manage.
I couldn’t tell him yet. That was what I needed the girls to help me with.
I would tell him tonight.
In Italian.
But staring at him now as he waited by the car, almost matching me in our ensembles, though his was a white button-up open to the white shirt beneath, I thought waiting until later might be more difficult than I had previously thought.
He looked up and grinned at me. “Ciao, bella fatina.” He gestured to the car. “Come away with me?”
The Royals of Monterra: Royal Rivals (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 10
