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The love that they shared would have been sacred and special. They literally risked their lives to have it.
In all the places I have been, with the all of the history I have learnt, it’s the stories of love that truly fascinate me. Did the king kill her knight? Or was she beheaded for having a lover?
What happened to them?
Did they die in each other’s arms?
I walk over to the balcony and look out over the town. The breeze whips through my hair, and my mind goes to Rico. So much was left unsaid between us.
I didn’t ask enough questions. When we spoke in my hotel room and he told me his wishes, I was so shocked that I didn’t ask why. Why does he feel the way he does?
Why does he feel that he has to marry an Italian?
What’s hurting the most is that I know he wants me— I felt it in every touch.
It’s eating at me, the not knowing why. I understand his wishes, and I know it won’t change the outcome for us, but for him… it’s sad. This is his life. In the twentieth century, why does he still feel so obliged to follow ancient tradition?
Why should his life be a sacrifice to his ancestors?
I can’t call him and ask, but if I had my time again and he came to me with that proposition, I would have asked more questions to try and get an insight into his inner thoughts so that I could understand them and move on.
I stare out over the town and wrap my cardigan around me. I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, anyway.
I need to stop thinking about him…. our time together is over.
17
Enrico
“She’s at a castle in Germany,” Marley says.
I frown. “What’s she doing there?”
“Sightseeing, by the looks of it. I’ve emailed you some pictures just now.”
I click open the email as I sit at my desk, and a barrage of images come up of Olivia Reynolds.
“Is she alone?” I ask, transfixed by her beauty.
“Yes, she arrived late last night. She got room service and has been pottering around town all day.”
I stare at the image of her looking over the balcony of what looks like a castle. She’s so deep in thought. Her blonde hair is up in a high ponytail, and she’s wearing a cream sweater and blue jeans.
She’s so beautiful.
I click to the next page of images. There’s one of her drinking coffee in a café, another of her eating an ice cream, followed by one of her driving a car, and then arriving at the hotel.
A scribe of her actions, all laid out for me to look at. I run my fingers over my lips as I stare at her images.
“Will that be all, boss?” Marley asks, snapping me out of my daydream.
“Yes, sorry. Stay with her. Let me know of any changes.”
“Okay.”
He hangs up, and I sit back in my chair, staring at the woman who’s become somewhat of an obsession to me.
The one I can’t have.
