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He freezes for a moment. Something like surprise or awe registers in his eyes, but it’s gone before I can put a finger on it.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ella Rose O’Neil.” He smiles warmly at me. “I’m Gualtiero Leandro De Marco.”
I repeat his name a few times in my head, happy to give my mind a distraction. I wonder what his name means. It sounds tough and ferocious.
“Your name. It sounds… strong. Do you know the English meaning?” I ask.
He looks surprised by my question. “Nobody has ever asked me this.”
I shrug my shoulders, a little embarrassed. “Few people show interest in the meaning of names.”
“But you do?” At my nod, a tentative smile emerges, and he rubs his chin, thinking.
“I believe Gualtiero means powerful ruler. My middle name Leandro means lion man.”
Lion, the ruler of the animal kingdom… I let his name roll around in my mind.
“There’s a lot of ruling in your name. Are you a ruler?” I wonder out loud. He has the air of one in command—it’s intimidating and reassuring all at once.
“Well, I’m the head of my family and I own several businesses. So yes, I rule,” he tells me.
“And Marco means warlike,” I add.
And where there’s a ruler, there’s usually a war to fight at some stage, I contemplate.
He appears surprised at my knowledge and I explain, “I’m fascinated with nameology. And my ex-boyfriend’s name was Marco. That’s how I know.”
“Nameology? What’s that?”
“It’s the science of names. It’s a coined word, but I think it fits.”
“That’s an unusual interest,” Gualtiero says with a hint of a smile.
“I like knowing if the meaning matches the person’s personality.”
“What does Ella mean?” he asks, studying my face with curiosity.
“Well, in old Greek, it means bright one or shining one. In Hebrew, it means goddess or beautiful fairy maiden.”
“Dea splendente… seems fitting,” he muses, his eyes never leaving mine. They have a tender glow as he watches me.
“Dea splendente?” I repeat, tilting my head to one side.
His hand comes up and cups my cheek, his fingers caressing my skin.
My breathing halts, my heart, yet again, skips a beat before bounding to a frantic pace.
What is he doing?
This is too intimate.
Yet I don’t stop him.
His touch… I don’t think my heart can cope. I’m seriously going to have a heart attack if he continues this.
“It means shining goddess,” he translates as his eyes burn into mine.
I blush under his scrutiny. I’ve never been called a goddess before—it makes me uncomfortable.
