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Rhia left a few minutes ago, excited and full of beans. I can only imagine what she and Lex will get up to. If it was a movie, it would be rated R... restricted, eighteen plus.
Thump, thump, thump goes my heart when I open the door, and my eyes land on Tiero. The air leaves my lungs in a rush, and it’s like all the oxygen in the world isn’t going to be enough.
Wowsers.
He looks delectable.
He’s dressed casually for the first time since we met, wearing black jeans and a black button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone. The urge to step closer burns in my chest. I want to undo more of these pesky little buttons to reveal more of his sun-tanned skin. My fingers itch, but of course, I behave.
Tiero’s gaze wanders over my body like fingertips, slowly undressing me. His eyes darken and fill with desire. The air instantly crackles between us, making my stomach flutter.
He leans in to kiss my cheeks and then pulls me into a hug, whispering into my ear, “You take my breath away. You look incredible.”
At his closeness, those treacherous goosebumps betray me again. His breath on my skin spikes my heart rate mercilessly.
“So do you,” I reply.
Tiero takes a step back and regards me intently. “Dr. Agosti said everything looked much improved this morning. Are you feeling okay?”
“Yes, thank you,” I say, blushing that he had a conversation with his doctor about me. “It’s bruised and a little itchy, but otherwise all good.”
Tiero nods in acknowledgment, and then without another word, takes my hand, waits until I have closed the door and leads me to the elevator, where two of his bodyguards are waiting for us.
They, too, are dressed casually, and I wonder where my mysterious Italian and his security squad go for a casual night out. It seems so unlike him. The thought he’s taking me somewhere just for my benefit warms my insides.
Yet again, there’s not another person to be seen on our floor. Where has everybody gone in the last two days?
We travel to the lobby in silence and walk to the waiting cars. Tiero’s hand nestles comfortably on my lower back, the contact sending waves of heat through me. Even this simple touch challenges my composure.
Like the night before, two black SUVs are parked right by the entrance. Two guards flank the hotel lobby door. I glance briefly at them. It seems Tiero’s security comes in only two sizes—big and bigger.
Why does one man need so much protection? Is he in danger all the time?
They scan the area around us as we get into the backseat of the first car. The bodyguard I’ve seen most at Tiero’s side slides into the passenger seat. I presume he’s Tiero’s personal guardian angel, though there’s nothing angelic about him.
He’s tall, all muscle, and with his bald head and a scar running the length of his left cheek, he looks downright scary. I wouldn’t want to get on this guy’s bad side.
He appears alert and laser-focused, and after what happened the day I met Gualtiero, I’m glad he’s with him and on the lookout for danger. The other guards get in the car behind us, and we depart.
“Where are you taking me tonight, Signore De Marco?” I ask playfully.
“Ah, my beautiful Ella, that’s a surprise,” he replies just as playfully, with a warm smile on his lips.
Today’s drive is much shorter, and after only ten minutes we pull up in front of what looks like an ordinary pub. I read the sign above the door and turn to Tiero in surprise.
“O’Seven? You’re taking me to an Irish pub in Sicily?”
“Something to remind you of home,” he says, amused.
“I’ve only been gone for a few days. I’m not sure I need reminding quite yet.” I laugh good-naturedly, and he joins in.
God, he looks beautiful when he laughs. It completely transforms his face from stern to something devastatingly gorgeous. I can’t look away. My pulse pounds in my veins, and I pray he doesn’t notice.
“You must have done your homework if you know I live in Ireland. I don’t think I’ve mentioned it yet, and I don’t have much of an accent given I didn’t grow up there.”
Has he done a background check on me? Somehow that wouldn’t surprise me, given all the security around him. I doubt he leaves anything to chance.
“It’s true, you don’t have an accent,” Tiero agrees with me, “but your friend does, and she told Mateo all about her company in Dublin.”
