AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She looked around, taking in the grandness of the house with fresh eyes. As if reading her thoughts, he murmured, “Oh, it didn’t used to look like this.”
“No?”
“It was far more rustic.” He lifted a hand, running it over the smooth, white wall. “My grandfather grew up here. His parents didn’t have much money and the house was basic. But beautiful. Big open rooms coming off a central hallway, terracotta roof, lime-washed walls, and the smell of salt and sand and fish everywhere. The walls were the strangest colour – like sand, I suppose – yellow brown, but I can’t see that colour without feeling a yearning for this place.”
Her smile was instinctive. “It sounds a lot like La Villetta.”
“I’ve never been inside,” he murmured, his voice like melted chocolate. “But certamente, the exteriors would indicate they were constructed around the same time.”
“The first time I saw La Villetta, I felt like I’d stepped into a postcard of Italy. It was everything I’d imagined.”
“You hadn’t been here before?”
“To Ondechiara? Never.”
“To Italy, though?”
“To Rome and Venice.”
His lips showed a hint of derision. “The tourist hotspots.”
“Guilty as charged,” she responded in kind, earning a grin from him that seared something in the pit of her stomach. “I was blown away by the beauty of this place. The village is lovely, of course, and the people friendly, but it’s the countryside I’m besotted with. Rolling hills in a dozen different shades of green, roads that carve their way across the hills’ undulations, flowers that seem to burst with life, fruit that fills the air with the most divine fragrance.” She shook her head a little. “And there, in the middle of nowhere, on the edge of a little tributary, is La Villetta di Pietra, all stone-washed walls and tiled floors, a garden with geraniums and lavender, and goats just across the field.” She wasn’t aware of the way his eyes dropped to her smile, studying her in a way that would have made her heart flip and flop if she’d noticed it.
“It’s like something out of a fairy tale. I feel so safe here.”
“Safe?” He prompted and inwardly, she admonished herself for employing such a telling word.
“You know, calm. It’s nice.” The response was awkward. She lifted her face to his and finally saw the way he was looking at her, so her breath snagged in her throat and she felt an odd rush of feeling. Of many feelings, all tangled together so she couldn’t understand how she was feeling, nor why. There was guilt, certainly, because her body was warm all over, her pulse throbbing, her heart racing, her fingertips aching with a need to reach out and touch this man. Why should she feel guilty, though? Because of Michael? The very idea sparked defiance in her chest. He’d already taken enough from her. He’d hurt her enough. He didn’t get to have any place in this – he was a completely separate part of her life.
That was why she was here, in Italy. Because here she could start fresh. No one knew what she’d been through. His eyes dropped to her lips and her heart lurched because she wanted, more than anything, to feel his lips on hers. A tiny sound escaped her lips – something between a groan and a plea – but it was enough to startle her. She took a small step back, smiled tightly and returned her attention to the view.
“And you like calm?”
His own voice was gravelled and it sparked a tsunami of need in her belly. She tamped down on it with effort.
“Who doesn’t?”
He was quiet and despite her best intentions, she found her eyes lifting to his.
“Why do you come here?”
Surprise flashed in his eyes. “The same reasons as you, I suspect.”
Maddie doubted that, but she didn’t say as much. To deny his assertion was to invite questions she wasn’t willing to answer. She hadn’t spoken to anyone about Michael. She couldn’t, and it was so hard to explain why. She hated that she felt a degree of shame for what had happened to her, because she understood it was completely out of her control, but it was hard to admit to what had happened – no, it was hard to admit why she’d stayed after the first time he’d hit her. She’d truly believed though that he’d made a mistake. It had seemed so out of character at the time, except it wasn’t, obviously.
She’d left London, telling her parents she had a deadline and needed to write away from distraction, telling her friends only that she and Michael had broken up without fleshing out any further details. And she told no one where she was going. She didn’t dare risk it. Michael was charming and clever and could undoubtedly persuade someone to open up to him about her location.
It had been instinctive to keep her secrets close to her chest but now, in the presence of a man she’d known for less than an hour, she felt a compelling desire to speak truthfully. Perhaps it was the anonymity that came of spending time with someone you didn’t know, and likely wouldn’t see again?
Or perhaps it was more complicated than that, she admitted grudgingly, as she flicked her gaze to his face once more. He was a stranger to her and yet she felt an instinctive tug towards him, a trust she wanted to be guided by even when she knew better tha
n to rely on her instincts. Instincts that had, after all, guided her to Michael.
“I don’t even know your name,” she said with a small shake of her head, the intensity of this overwhelming.
“It’s Nico,” he provided, his eyes scanning her features, as if looking for something – she couldn’t say what.
“Nico.” She repeated it, smiling, because it was perfect for him. “Is it short for anything?”
