I should decline, but something causes me to hesitate. The promise I made to my grandmother. I nervously glance at his hand where the pale outline of his wedding band still lingers. There’s a rose tattooed on the back of that hand. The vines wrap around his finger, like his missing wedding band is part of the design.
“Are you married?” I ask point-blank, gesturing to his hand. “If you are, I’m not that kind of girl.”
The easy way out. If he’s married, that’ll erase all my hesitation. I won’t be breaking my promise to my grandmother. I don’t care how attractive he is, or how his icy blue eyes are making my knees weak. I’ll shut him down right now if he’s just looking for some kind of vacation fling.
“No,” he says, lifting his hand and tracing the pale circle. A pained expression haunts his face and makes his eyes dim. “My wife passed away five years ago.”
“Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry!” I take a step back, feeling a pang of regret for asking.
“It’s okay.” He swallows hard, lowers his hand, and shakes his head. “I like that you asked. Your grandmother really did raise a fine young woman.”
My heart aches when I see the pained expression etched on his face. He loved her. Is that why he wore his wedding band for so long after she passed? That’s admirable. I guess there’s no harm in having dinner with him. He seems genuine, even if his tattoos suggest he’s got an edge hiding behind his mountainous physique. I promised my grandmother I would let Isola Selvaggia guide me, rather than overthinking everything like I normally do.
“Bellissima’s? Six o’clock?” I repeat. “Okay, I’ll join you for dinner.”
“Excellent,” he says, putting an arm in front of me so I don’t lose my balance when the boat moves close to the dock. It’s a kind, almost protective gesture. “Maybe I can even convince you to try the wine from my family’s vineyard. It’s one of Bellissima’s most popular selections.”
“You want me to drink a glass of poison?” I question, unable to hide my grin.
“Delicious poison,” he chuckles.
“I’ll consider it,” I say, moving away from his protective gesture once the boat stops rocking.
“See you tonight,bambina,” he says, the inflection on the last word stirring something strange inside me, even though I don’t know what it means.
I have a silly grin on my face as I leave the boat and walk toward the shuttle. I glance back to see if Massimo will be riding the same shuttle, but he’s already getting into the back seat of a black sedan. He has his own ride, and his own driver. He must be important. Or wealthy. That would make sense if the wine from his family’s vineyard is one of the most popular ones at the resort—or at least at Bellissima’s, where I’ll be joining him for dinner.
“I’m keeping my promise, Grandma,” I say under my breath. “I’m letting Isola Selvaggia guide me on this adventure. I really hope I don’t regret this.”
I say his name a few times once I find a seat on the shuttle. There’s something so familiar about him, but why can’t I figure out what it is? He’s too old to be someone I met at school. He’s definitely not a professor. Not with those tattoos. I don’t know anyone with that much ink.
But then we get close enough for me to see Twelve Palms and I let out a gasp. “Oh wow,” I say, the sight of the resort taking my breath away and making me forget about the attractive stranger for a moment.
My grandmother didn’t stay at a resort. She found a hotel near the beach and let the island do the rest. I’m not that brave. Isola Selvaggia is a tourist destination, so it’s relatively safe, according to what I read online. Still, I’m a woman traveling alone, so I have to be careful. I planned a few excursions away from the resort, but I plan to stay safely within the walls most of the time I’m here.
Once we pass through the gates of the resort, I pull out my phone and confirm I have a signal before sending a message to my best friend.
Lea: I made it.
Sarah: Good! Meet any cute cabana boys yet?
Lea: I haven’t made it that far. I did meet someone on the boat, though…
Sarah: Is he hot?
Lea: Very. He asked me to dinner tonight.
Sarah: And you said no, because you’re afraid of dicks.
I shake my head and start giggling, which draws the attention of a few others on the shuttle, so I quickly stifle my reaction. I’m not afraid of dicks—just wary of doing something I’ll regret. I really hope I don’t regret agreeing to have dinner with Massimo.
Lea: You’ll be very proud of me. I’m following my grandmother’s advice.
Sarah: Oh, you’re definitely getting your cherry popped this week! I want all the details!
Lea: There won’t be any details. I’m going to have fun, but I’m not having that kind of fun.
Sarah: Details!
