Page 38 of Angel

As I stepped through the massive glass threshold, I let out a gasp, taking in the view as Mrs Campanelli gave us a tour.

‘The refurbished contemporary villa is furnished with every modern fitting you can think of. It’s set on the cliffs of Marina Piccola in front of the legendary Faraglioni rocks. We’re connected to the mainland by a narrow, picture-perfect strip of beach.’

My eyes lingered on the expansive rooftop terrace.

The space featured pergola-shaded sections, two marble bars, a DJ mixing deck, and a raised wooden performance stage.

Down on the lower levels, the outdoor terraces gave way to a 23-meter infinity pool with sightlines over the edge to the sea beyond.

The opulent interior blended modern Mediterranean architecture with a relaxed design aesthetic.

Warm natural textures, neutral fabrics, and striking local paintings dotted the entire floor plan.

A central stone patio sat surrounded by three sitting rooms and a grand dining hall.

Floor-to-ceiling glass panes slid into the walls, erasing the boundary between the living spaces and the outside lounge pavilions.

‘We also have a professional gym, a yoga deck, a heated jacuzzi, a wet spa-sauna, and a traditional tiled hammam,’ Mrs Campanelli explained.

The layout featured a primary suite alongside five additional luxury bedrooms, each boasting a private terrace over the tide.

Carlo carried our bags into the residential wing while Mrs. Campanelli gestured toward a sunlit dining table.

She presented a spread of fresh figs, a variety of cheeses, sliced prosciutto, warm rosemary focaccia, and chilled carafes of blood orange juice.

‘I’m here to manage the kitchen and the house during your stay,’ Mrs. Campanelli explained, adjusting a silver serving spoon. ‘Carlo will handle your security and driving, and maintain your utmost privacy. We want you to focus on your wellbeing.’

We ate our brunch mostly in silence, only speaking when we wanted a plate handed over, or when Angel asked to refill my coffee cup.

When Carlo returned to announce the completion of the luggage transfer, Angel pushed his chair back, face closed off, not quite meeting my eyes.

He abandoned the rest of his food, giving me a weary nod.

‘I’m heading to my room, need to catch up on sleep.’

‘OK,’ I murmured.

I tracked his broad shoulders as he stalked away, my heart aching.

I let my mind wander, imagining I was going with him.

Lying next to him, in his arms as we made love and released the fraught energy of the last forty-eight hours.

Sensing the heat of a gaze on me, I twisted my head, only to find Mrs. Campanelli studying my face with a keen, analytical focus.

She flicked her eyes to Angel’s retreating backside and then sliced them back to me, noting the distance between us.

Her lips pressed together, her silent conclusion sending a sudden, fiery blush across my cheeks.

Shame burned through my chest.

‘Grazie, for the food,’ I managed in a hoarse whisper as I bolted from the table.

Hurrying down the corridor, I blinked hard to tamp back the warm tears that threatened to spill over my eyelashes.

Chapter 10

ANGEL