Page 65 of Jude

With a smile, I slid into the crystal-blue waters of the in-ground pool.

After a good swim, I settled on an oversized watermelon-shaped float.

I lay on my back, staring up at the oak canopy, still awed by the sheer magnificence of my new surroundings.

Weeks earlier, I was dodging border patrol agents and a mafioso minder.

Now, I had a diamond ring the size of a small rock on my hand, a husband, and free rein in a mansion. One that resembled a spread in Home Beautiful magazine.

My thoughts wandered onto Jude.

Still shaken by our lovemaking last night, I felt like I was spinning out.

I needed to speak to someone.

I slipped back into the water and climbed out of the pool.

Tracking to my phone, I sat on an outdoor lounge and called my cousin Anya, desperate for her wisdom and perspective.

She picked up on the third ring.

It was 7 p.m. in Calabria, and she took my call without a second of hesitation.

‘Ciao, Sofia?’

I smiled at the joy in her voice.

‘I’m fine, how are you?’

We exchanged pleasantries for a minute before I plunged into my woes.

I confessed, my fingers twisting the silver eagle pendant at my nape.

‘Remember the guy who saved me at the airport? I’m losing my mind over him, Anya. I can’t get him out of my head. We made love last night, and it was the best I’ve ever had.’

‘Madonna!’ Anya gasped through the receiver. ‘Dettagli, per favore!’

I gave her the short version of our scorching experience.

‘Then he played it down like we both hadn’t had our minds blown, and told me never to speak of it,’ I continued. ‘Yet when we look at each other, I feel this deep connection. He’s generous and very protective, and all I want to do is care for him. Under his brooding exterior, he’s the most genuine, real man I’ve ever met. To say I’m hooked on him is an understatement. What do I do?’

‘Pazienza, sorella,’ Anya counseled. ‘Be patient with him and with yourself. Only time will tell if anything real grows between you two.’

‘Easy for you to say,’ I muttered.

‘So who is this mystery savior anyway?’ she asked, curiosity lacing her tone. ‘What does he do?’

‘His name’s Jude Valenti,’ I spilled. ‘He’s a musician, the co-lead of an Australian band called Six Sinners.’

Anya lost her mind, shrieking so loud into the speaker that I pulled the receiver three inches from my ear.

‘Santo cielo!’ she screamed. ‘Are you serious right now, Sofia?’

She launched into a breathless frenzy about their albums, raving about their raw lyrics, ripped vocals, and Jude’s gritty, distorted electric guitar riffs.

‘Cara, I never knew you were a major fan,’ I interrupted, chuckling at her breakdown. ‘I’ll let him know, and maybe he can send you some merchandise.’

‘Send merchandise?’ Anya squealed. ‘You’d better send me his entire discography on vinyl. You’re sleeping with a god, cugina! He’s a huge catch, so don’t rush, don’t spook him, reel him in slowly with your amazing personality.’