“Really?” Her eyes widened with vulnerability. “I thought this was just sex and revenge. I didn’t think you wanted…me.”
Had no one ever told her how precious she was?
“But I do,” he assured her, cupping the side of her neck as he allowed his need of her to sink its way into him like a ship that he had been holding at the surface, but now welcomed into the deepest parts of himself. The essence that was Mira came to rest softly inside him, but with enough force to leave a scar against his heart forever. An imprint shaped like her.
“Don’t talk of leaving,” he ordered gruffly. “It makes me grouchy.”
Her mouth was trembling, barely holding the smile that was dawning across her face.
“We can’t have that,” she said in a voice that wavered. She blinked back the tears brimming in her eyes. “What would the neighbors say?”
She was so beautiful in that moment, she struck sunlight into his chest, making his throat ache. Then she dipped her head and her soft lips were against his own.
His brain drank in her taste and the scent of his soap on her skin and the lush give in her hips as he splayed his hands to hitch her deeper into his lap.
I can’t lose her, he thought.
It might actually kill him if he did.
Mira floated through the next few days. No one had cared about her in so long, she didn’t know how to accept Rocco’s regard. How to believe in it.
And maybe there was a part of her that was disappointed, wishing he’d been more effusive when he’d asked her to live with him because she was falling in love with him. That’s what this fullness in her was that carried her through her days. It was more than simple contentment or transient happiness. It was an overflowing sense of rightness. Colors were more vibrant, her steps were lighter. She felt as though she had found where she belonged.
At least, Rocco made her feel that way. Everything he did for her allowed her to flourish. Just yesterday, he had come home with a handful of archeology textbooks, saying it might help her decide which time period interested her most.
It was such a thoughtful gesture, she almost blurted out her feelings.
Something in her resisted, though. Old uncertainties created a reluctance in her to fully give herself over to him. As if a few tiny words would make a difference, though, when her heart was his and she was eagerly weaving her life into his. It felt too soon to think of marriage, but shewaswearing his ring.
If you’re still wearing it a year from now, you can keep it, she remembered him saying and smiled as she sent her applications for the programs she wanted, three different options that would keep her here in Rome.
She was in the middle of doing the math on whether it was better to lease out her flat in Berlin or sell it, when she received a photo from Patrizia, the project manager at her villa.
We found this safe. Do you have keys or shall we call a locksmith? How should we proceed?
Tickled, Mira called Rocco.
“It’s my very own archeological discovery,” she joked. “I said I’d catch the train this morning. I don’t want to hold up their work.”
There was beat of silence, then, “I need to make a call, then we’ll fly down together.”
“You don’t have to break up your day.” He’d only arrived at the office minutes ago. “I’ll be back tonight.” The train was only an hour to Naples, then another to Praiano. “I doubt there’s anything in it. All of my mother’s jewelry was accounted for when she passed.” Aside from a couple of pieces in the safe in her Berlin apartment, everything was in a safety deposit box at her bank. She made a mental note to collect it when she closed out her apartment.
“I want to come,” Rocco insisted.
Within the hour, they were on his jet, heading to Salerno.
When she noticed him check his phone yet again as they drove to the villa, she said, “You didn’t have to come if you had a busy day in Rome.”
“It’s fine,” he said darkly. “I want to know what’s in there, too.”
They arrived to the chaos of work crews banging and clambering around. The laneway was blocked with tools and trucks. The outdoor steps had been jackhammered away and new ones had just been poured, leaving only a steep ladder to provide access. Mira was glad she’d worn casual jeans and a pair of sneakers.
Inside the empty villa, fresh holes in exterior walls were covered in plastic. The subfloors were exposed and covered in splotches and muddy footsteps. Workers stopped and took off their hats when they saw her and Rocco, greeting him with deference.
“Tell the crew to take thirty. Paid,” he ordered Patrizia, emptying the house of all but the two of them and the waiting locksmith.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Mira said. “We won’t be here long.”
