“You want to spend one of your last days alive taking me on an excursion?” I question. “Surely you’ve got better things to do with your time than that.”
“Perhaps,” he chuckles. “But I’d rather spend the day with you.”
I struggle with a response, so I sip some orange juice and move some food over to my plate. A tremor of excitement radiates over me at the thought of spending the entire day with him. That a hot, tattooed Mafia guy wants to spend the day with a nobody from a small town. But why? We’ll never have a relationship. If Ilet my feelings flourish, I’ll get my heart shattered into a million pieces after he’s gone. And it’s such a terrible idea to begin with.
“Thank you for breakfast,” I sigh as I begin to eat my food. “And the excursion, but it really isn’t necessary. I’m okay with skipping the sights.”
“I’m not,” he growls, loading his plate up with bacon, eggs, and ham. “You came to Isola Selvaggia for an adventure, and you’re going to get one. You’re my guest, remember? It’s my job to make sure you enjoy yourself.”
“We both know I’m not a guest, no matter how many times you say that,” I mutter, meeting his icy blue gaze. “This is my ‘Hotel California.’I’ve checked out of my bungalow, but I’m stuck here for the rest of the week.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” He shakes his head and waves a hand. “And you’re way too young to know that song.”
“My grandmother introduced me to a lot of old music.” I smile at the fond memory. “She used to make me tell her what I thought each song meant. She said most of the music these days doesn’t have muchmeaning.”
“Every song has meaning,” he chuckles. “Sometimes the meaning is nonsense, but there’s still meaning.”
“Perhaps,” I concede.
We steal glances at each other while we eat. I can’t help being a little excited at the thought of getting a private tour from Massimo. If his family owns the resort, he probably knows a lot about Isola Selvaggia. Mystery is part of the charm. My grandmother told me all sorts of stories about this place, including a few about the ruins and statues.
After we finish eating, Massimo goes into his bedroom to change. He emerges wearing black hiking boots, jeans, and a t-shirt that stretches so tight over his mountainous physique that I have to suck a drop of drool back into my mouth. I can see a lot more of his ink now. The rose on his hand that seems to be missing a piece without his wedding band forms an intricate pattern of thorns that run along the length of his arm in a full sleeve. The tattoos on his other arm seem to be Vegas-themed, but I don’t get a good look at them before he motions for me to follow him.
“I’ve got a Jeep waiting downstairs,” he said. “I had them pack a lunch, too, in case we get hungry later.”
“Oh, are we going on a picnic?” I laugh as I follow him into the elevators.
“If you like wine, cheese, and crackers—sure,” he says, swiping his keycard.
“Good to know I can get drunk if the tour sucks,” I joke.
“Yep, if you have to be drunk to spend the day with me, I understand.” He winks at me and leans against the wall as the elevator descends.
Massimo wraps his fingers around my arm once we get to the lobby. To make sure I don’t run off? I’ve given up all hope of that. If his family owns this resort, then I assume there are more Mafia guys around. Massimo said as much. I’ll take the devil I barely know over someone who would slit my throat without thinking twice.
When we get outside, I see a Jeep parked near the stairs. Massimo leads me over to it and opens the passenger door. I climb inside and see a basket sitting in the back seat. I can’thelp peeking and notice two bottles of wine, along with multiple different types of cheeses, and some crackers I would have really liked to have when my stomach was angry at me on the boat.
“Stay out of the wine until we get to the ruins,” Massimo says playfully as he gets into the Jeep.
I wait until his door is slammed and I’m sure nobody can hear before I respond. “So, killing people is okay, but you draw the line at drinking and driving?” I flash him a grin.
“I have standards, remember?” He winks at me again.
“Your standards need to be reevaluated.” I reach for my seatbelt and put it on.
“Little late for that,” he chuckles, not even bothering with his seatbelt before he pulls away.
“Right,” I mutter. I’d mention the seatbelt, but why bother? “I hope you realize it’s going to be difficult to just have fun with you when I know you’re…” I don’t finish my sentence.
“Can you pretend?” he growls. “Humor a man who is on his deathbed?”
I shake my head and sigh. “I’ll try, Massimo. I’ll try.”
I struggle to put everything in the back of my mind so I can enjoy the excursion. I doubt he cares to see the ruins and statues one last time before he dies, which means he’s doing this for me. That means something, although I’m not sure if I like what it means. I felt his reaction when I was over his knee last night. He—likesme. Or he just liked having me bare. Liked punishing me.
The adventure is still on, but the island isn’t guiding me anymore.
Massimo is.
