My heart and various other parts of me screamed in delight and somehow I made my way to him. He pulled me into a tight hug, breathing in deeply as if inhaling whatever scent I gave off. He murmured something I couldn’t hear, let alone translate, and I leaned back to smile at him.
“You know I have no clue what you just said,” I told him.
He smiled and kissed my nose. “Si. It makes it so much better that you can’t smack me if it offended you.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, wishing that wasn’t amusing to me, and kissed him quickly. “I may smack you yet. Let’s go, I want to see the coast.”
We got into the car and Salvatore was quick to pull me up against him as the driver pulled away. “Go to sleep, if you like, fatina,” he told me. “I’ll wake you when we get there.”
I nuzzled up against him and let myself relax. He ran his fingers through my hair and stroked them along my back, and I wrapped my arms around him with a sleepy, “That feels nice,” before drifting off.
Salvatore woke me with kisses, which was a new favorite way of waking, I decided. We got out of the car, immediately inhaling the sea air of Livorno.
Amazing that a drive of just over an hour could result in such a change in sights, sounds, and smells, but there it was.
Salvatore came to my side, a knapsack slung over one shoulder, his sunglasses in place. He smiled at my expression and took my hand.
“Where to first?” I asked, grinning.
“Mercato Centrale,” he replied, which meant nothing to me, as he knew full well. “We are going to a market, getting some delicious food, and then I will take you to the coast, where we will eat and you will draw while I nap, and then I don’t know. Whatever you wish, cara mia.”
“Sounds perfect,” I sighed, not even bothering to hide my delight.
I think he enjoyed the sound of my voice at that moment.
The market was just as busy and congested as any market in London I had ever been to, but somehow so much more exciting. A mixture of English and Italian met my ears as the vendors tried to barter and sway their customers, who were a fair mix of nationalities, from what I could see. Anything I could have wanted by way of food, and even some wares, was there for me to see, but there was a special focus on seafood, which was to be expected.
I hadn’t thought I was hungry on the drive over, but the smells emanating from the various stands was making my stomach roar and rumble. Salvatore was an excellent barterer and got us several free tastes, as well as deals on some soups, bruschetta, and an assortment of meats and cheeses that looked phenomenal and smelled even better. He paired it with a bold Chianti, which the vendor raved continuously about, and the man threw in some glasses for free, just because he knew we would love it.
We got back into our car and drove down to Antignano, where we got out and just walked a while. I wanted to be away from the people, he wanted me to have a spectacular view, so we walked until we found it.
“Qui,” Salvatore said suddenly once we were on a bluff. He pointed in the distance. “There is your scene, fatina.”
My breath caught in my chest at the waves rolling onto the shore, the rocky crags of the coastline weaving their way around, and there stood a castle on the edge of one particularly large outcropping. Its stone foundation seemed to spring from the coast itself, and its white exterior glistened in the afternoon sun, almost as though the building itself had been formed by the reflections of the sea.
“What is it?” I breathed, catching a strand of hair the sea breeze had blown loose.
“Castello del Boccale. It was once a watchtower that protected the area from pirates.” He nudged me in my side with a chuckle. “You’d like a pirate, wouldn’t you?”
I shrugged, turning to smile up at him. “I don’t know, I’m particularly fond of dukes these days.”
That earned me a sound kiss.
We spread out the blanket he’d brought and ate our delicious Tuscan meal, savoring each incredible morsel. Salvatore was quick to stretch out for a nap afterwards, and I went to work on my drawing, knowing this was too magnificent a scene to pass up, but also knowing I wanted to do this right. I wanted oils and a canvas, and hours and hours of time to perfect it. This drawing and my reference photos would only be my preliminary work until I could manage that, but the details were just as important.
I was distracted, however, by the gorgeous man stretched out beside me. He was soundly asleep, but no less appealing for that. I finished up the detail of the coastline and castle, then scrambled for my sketches of Salvatore. I had yet to finish even one of them.
I was afraid to.
With more patience than I thought I possessed, I drew the long lines of him, sculpted the perfect angles of his face, the contours of his physique, which were all too apparent in his current state, and paid special detail to the shape of his mouth. That mouth that could rile me up in agitation with his snide remarks, tease me into a laugh, ensnare me with its sweet words, and captivate me with its drugging kisses…
That mouth was for sinners and saints, and anything in between.
“Have you had your fill, fatina?” a sleepy voice suddenly said.
I jerked up, having been absorbed in my sketch. “What?”
Salvatore blinked in confusion. “Of the view. Did you get it?”
“Oh.” I swallowed quickly and closed the sketchbook. “Yes, I did. As well as I could without paints, at any rate.” I looked out over it again with a sigh. “I’d like to paint it at sunset. Or maybe sunrise. Just to see what I could do.”
He smiled at that. “I think you could do amazing things, Claire. Whatever you set your mind to. But I will happily bring you back here sometime to see the sunset or sunrise, if you’d like.”
My heart leapt at the implications. That would be after the house party. He intended this to go on, to last beyond the week of the party, to become real…
It wasn’t just a fling for him.
The words danced at the edges of my lips, my confession and declaration straining at its confines.
But I had to wait. Tonight, I told myself. Tonight I will tell him.
It couldn’t come soon enough.
I smiled at home, amid my inner chaos. “Now what?”
“One thing more,” he said as he sat up, taking my hand in his and kissing it. “Terrazza Mascagni. You will love this.”
“I know I will,” I replied softly, gripping his hand more tightly.
We got back into the car and drove north, just for a few minutes, it seemed, and then we got out again. There were people everywhere, but there was plenty of space for them, so it didn’t feel congested. The Terrazza Mascagni was a massive bridge, but it was more like an expansive terrace than anything else, and we just walked along it, listening to the waves crash into the shore, loving the stunning views of the sea. It was a charming place, even with the other people around, and I slid my arm around Salvatore’s waist as we wandered slowly. He pulled me in close, his arm tight around my shoulders, and kissed the side of my head.
It was strange, but walking the terrazza like this made me feel more in love with him than ever before. There was a deep sense of comfort with him, a silence that I did not need to fill. A bizarre sense of belonging, though this was not my home and never would be.
Contentment. That’s what it was. Walking here with Salvatore by my side filled me with a sense of contentment that I’d never felt before.
And I loved that feeling.
I loved it a lot.
The drive back to the Catalanos’ villa was much the same, silent and dozing, though I found myself kissing Salvatore more often than I expected. Gentle, soft, sweet kisses to fill the time. His hands wandered up my back, down my arms, into my hair, in long, soothing strokes that relaxed as well as excited me.
“Sei il mio grande amore e il mio amore grande,” Salvatore murmured, cupping my face. “Per te farei di tutto. Ho bisogno di te.”
I sensed an urgency in his tone, but his words had no
meaning for me. I gripped the back of his neck tightly. “If you want me to understand, you need to say things in a way I understand.”
He kissed me hungrily, taking my breath away, though it had hardly been steady before. “I’m trying to, Tesoro. Believe me, I am.”
I curled my fingers in his hair and kissed him back, wishing I knew all that he had ever said to me, wondering if he might be feeling this passion out of lust or from the deeper, more profound emotions that I was in the midst of.
I wanted him to love me. Not just want me, but truly love me.
I wanted him to need me as much as I was coming to need him, and I was terrified that I was just another one of his typical relationships. It couldn’t be that easy for him. It had to be more, didn’t it?
I couldn’t be the only one feeling this, could I?
We pulled up to the villa and he got out first, tugging on my hand to make me follow. He cupped my cheek again, this time with the utmost gentleness.
“I have some business to take care of,” he said with a soft stroke of my cheek. “Some calls to make. I may be a while. But I will see you tonight, even if I am late.”
I nodded, gripping his shirt in my hands. “I’ll be waiting.”
He smiled and kissed me again, only barely grazing his lips against mine, and the effect was maddening. “Just a preview for later,” he whispered in my ear before kissing it.
I shivered and nodded, then went into the house ahead of him, my face flaming and the rest of me feeling quite on fire as well.
The girls were already in my room going through my closet when I entered, and they paused when I came in.
“Madonna,” Rosalia breathed, starting to smile. “Claire…”
“What?” I asked, pretending my face wasn’t on fire.
Thalia laughed easily. “Someone has riled you up and kissed you senseless. It’s all over your face.”
I blushed somehow further and covered my face, which made them squeal, which led to a very long, very drawn out conversation on my bed about everything that had happened in the last few days.
They were put out that I couldn’t remember any of the Italian phrases Salvatore had been saying to me, but loved our bantering, and loved that he intentionally spoke Italian so I wouldn’t understand. They sighed and swooned at all of the right places, and I felt somehow more secure in my feelings having seen how the scenarios affected them, though they were experiencing it all secondhand.
Imagine being the one directly impacted.
We ate dinner up in the room, chatting and laughing while they taught me some key Italian phrases, and starting to get ready for the formal. I hadn’t heard from Salvatore, but I hadn’t expected to. I didn’t know what sort of business he had to take care of, but I was sure he’d tell me later. Maybe he’d had a great idea and wanted to put his name and his money to good use. Maybe one of his cousins or siblings had gotten into trouble and he felt responsible.
Maybe he was planning a trip for us to take together.
That last suggestion had been Rosalia’s, but my mind seized it in a quick vice.
I shouldn’t hope for things I couldn’t know for certain, but the idea of the two of us being away together… That held a certain appeal I suddenly craved.
Thalia helped me into my dress, a fitted red lace mermaid gown with a high slit just off center in the skirt, and she gushed over the sheer panels around my midsection. Rosalia was more excited about the sheer nature of the neckline than that, but both of them could agree that my towering strappy red stilettos were the perfect exclamation point for the entire ensemble.
Once my makeup and hair were completed, I took a long look at myself.
I looked like me. But I looked like the very best version of me I had ever seen. Sexier, warmer, and somehow just… more.
Salvatore was going to swallow his tongue.
And this time he would be coming to me for the most epic kiss we’d ever shared.
I could guarantee that much at least.
The ballroom was more alive than it had been that first night, everyone more familiar with each other than before, and everyone dressed in their finest apparel. Some of the girls still looked as though they belonged at cheap clubs in London, but I didn’t mind that so much. Thalia was stunning in a dress the color of gold, every inch of her lean body silhouetted perfectly. At least three men were surrounding her now, and she seemed amused by that. Rosalia was in a pale pink chiffon gown that contrasted brilliantly with her complexion and gave her an elegance that only heightened her beauty. Marco was by her side, and obviously had no intention of being moved from it.
I stood awkwardly off to one side of the room, holding a drink I barely tasted.
I ran over the Italian in my mind again and again, desperately wanting to get it right, though I knew he would probably understand what I meant to say even if I butchered it. But I didn’t want the moment to be ruined by my inability to say what was in my heart in the language that was so natural to him. I wanted to feel the words roll off of my tongue as easily as he had said them. Though, as I looked back, I wasn’t sure he had said what I was going to say.
The specifics of his Italian teasing had been completely lost on me, and I cursed myself for not paying more attention.
What if he had said something important? What if he hadn’t?
What if I was about to make a fool of myself?
I shook my head at once, scolding myself. No, this was real. There was no mistaking it. I had felt it, and I could swear he had as well.
It was real.
It had to be.
I saw Davide and Francisco come into the room, and both of them looked at me, looked again, looked at each other, then looked at me yet again for a much longer time, and then smiled, nodding their greeting at me. Odd, but their looks and their smiles didn’t have the same leer that I had learned was their trademark. They didn’t come over, but they didn’t look disapproving either.
I knew I looked good, but surely I hadn’t changed their opinions just from this ensemble…
Salvatore wasn’t with them. He wasn’t anywhere, as far as I could see. I circled the room three times, escaping dance invitations from the Catalano brothers, who had not changed at all over the course of the week and still reeked of vodka and cheese. No one else made any attempt to talk with me, which I expected, but plenty of people looked. And whispered. And looked some more.
I was beginning to feel like a ridiculous spectacle, and I didn’t have Salvatore with me to ease the burden of it.
Where was he?
I checked my phone, which I’d stashed in my clutch.
No messages, no calls.
I scanned the room again, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly I felt warm, conspicuous, and nervous. I was quite literally the only person standing with no one around them. Everyone had someone, or multiple someones, who wanted their attention. Everyone was either dancing or talking, and I was just standing here.
Waiting.
I took a drink of whatever I was holding to soothe my parched throat, but it didn’t help.
He had to be here. He had to kiss me. He had to hear what I had to say. He had to end this fantasy with me so I would know what was real.
He had…
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Severo bellowed into a microphone. “The time has come! Midnight approaches, and our house party will come to its fiery and passionate conclusion!”
The room roared its approval, whistles and cheers filling the air.
I looked around frantically. Where was he? He couldn’t leave me like this, not here, not now.
“Find your stranger, or your special someone if you’ve found them,” Severo continued, pulling a giggling girl on stage with him. “And at the stroke of midnight, kiss them farewell, and make them remember it!”
Again came the cheers, the whistles, and some catcalls in languages I didn’t know.
He wasn’t going to come. He was going to leave me here, embarr
assed and ashamed, while he lit up the night scene in Florence or wherever with any girl he could get.
But how? He couldn’t… I loved him, I trusted him, and he…
He…
The clock struck its chime and everyone in the room turned to their partner and kissed them. Really kissed them. Passionately and without any sort of restraint or hesitation.
And I just stood there, suddenly cold.
Alone.
CHAPTER TEN
The midnight chimes continued on, and I did the only thing I could do.
I ran.
Out of the ballroom, down the hall, running in five-inch stilettos not designed for anything of the sort.
I didn’t care. I needed to be away. Far, far away, if I could manage it.
I only got as far as the terrace, but that was far enough. I went to the furthest corner from the rest of the house and gripped the railing tightly, my breath hitching with every inhale and wheezing on the exhale.
Tears splashed onto my perfectly manicured hands, but I didn’t care.
I didn’t care about anything anymore.
I lowered my head and let loose with a growling sob that was ripped from my chest, swaying towards the railing.
Whatever heart I’d built up over the last few days was dissolving at an alarming rate, shrinking into absolute nothingness, and the pain of it all was excruciating. It twisted into a knotted mass within me, wringing painful sob after painful sob from my now burning chest. I grabbed at the choker I’d worn and wrenched it away from my neck, sending it flying into the rocks and grass beyond, though my throat still felt constricted once it was gone.
I couldn’t believe it. If I hadn’t been there, seen and felt it all, I wouldn’t have believed it. How could a man who had spent nearly every waking moment with me over the last week, sweeping me off my feet and kissing me into oblivion, finding me perfect places to paint and sketch, and being overprotective in the face of gorgeous Italians, throw me over at the last minute? How could everything I had experienced this week be a complete and absolute lie?
The Royals of Monterra: Royal Rivals (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 11
