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CHAPTER ELEVEN
AMELIAHADFELTunsettled ever since the conversation at the café with Alessandro. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she couldn’t deny that she was feeling out of sorts. Standing in front of the mirror in Alessandro’s beautiful en suite in Villa Vittoria, she took in the changes since the day Alessandro found her outside her flat in Brockley.
Despite the subtle sense of unease, her skin was now sun-kissed with a gentle golden glow. Freckles that had only ever shown themselves in Italy had been sprinkled across her forearms and her nose, warming the paler complexion she was used to. Her cheeks, ever so slightly rounder, had taken on an almost permanent blush thanks to the passion that she shared with Alessandro during heady nights she could barely credit were real.
The day after visiting the café, Alessandro had picked another piece of paper from the jar.
Tell me something about yourself that no one else knows.
He could have chosen to speak of so much but secretly she’d been just a little relieved when, instead of delving into the harder conversations available to them, he’d confided that he didn’t like cartoons. Obviously, she’d thought he was absurd, but he’d seemed equally bemused when in return she’d shared that she didn’t like sandwiches that were cut the wrong way. He’d stared at her for a moment and then made her two sandwiches so that she could illustrate the diagonal cut versus the half cut. He shook his head, threw his hands up in the air and stalked off muttering about silly English sandwiches.
The next morning, Amelia woke to find Alessandro waiting for her with a smile. He held out one of the paper tasks, looking strangely excited.
Take me somewhere you’ve always wanted to go.
And she’d buried her laughter beneath the sheets because he’d looked so much like an impatient child that she’d half expected to end up in Disneyland. Instead, as the view from the jet’s window morphed from stretches of sea into stretches of desert, she realised that they were in Egypt to visit the Pyramids of Giza. None of the pictures she’d seen had done them justice. The sheer size and sense of history was breathtaking, even in spite of the large groups of tourists around them, chatting happily away and taking pictures.
Alessandro had asked if she wanted a private tour, and she’d declined because she liked the way he was when he was surrounded by people. As if he could relax and disappear in the crowds, rather than adopt that aura of power needed when he was the sole focus. It surprised her how easily he was able to give over that control and that attention and go with the flow of the loud tour guide, and throughout it all she felt his gaze on her almost as much as she saw it on the pyramids.
The following day while making her a decaffeinated coffee, Alessandro asked if there was somewhere she’d always wanted to go. Amelia looked up at him, nestling her cup in the palm of her hand.
‘Could we go to Capri?’ she asked, yearning in her heart making her pulse a little erratic.
‘Of course. If you want, we can take a drive down the Amalfi coast and a boat to cross the gulf of Naples. Or we could take a helicopter if you like?’
She thought back to the last holiday her family had taken together, before her father had given up and before addiction took over her mother. They’d taken a hot, sweaty andscarydrive down from Naples along the Amalfi coast—her mother hiding her eyes from the oncoming drivers, she and Issy squealing in delight at the twists and turns, too young to know better. It made her smile despite the ache in her heart. ‘Boat, I think. I’d really like to take the boat.’
‘Are you going to make me stand in line at the ferry terminal with the other tourists?’ His demand was full of mock outrage and she was beginning to suspect that he secretly enjoyed being so anonymous.
‘Actually, this time I think I’d like it to be just the two of us.’
In what felt like the blink of an eye, Alessandro had whisked them down to Positano and hired the most beautiful little speedboat she’d ever seen. It was like something from an old black and white film. Silken mahogany glowed beneath the Italian sun, perfectly offset by the deep racing green paint, the boat’s sleek lines so smooth she wanted to run her hands across it.
Alessandro took the helm with attractive confidence and welcomed her aboard as if she were some grand duchess and he a lowly captain. The playfulness between them was addictive and her heart began to stretch towards the hope that it could always be like this between them.
She closed her eyes, letting the sun’s rays warm her, and simply enjoyed the tang of salt in the air, the spray of the water, the rocking of the boat as Alessandro navigated around the deep swells caused by other seafaring craft.
But as they drew closer to the beautiful island, beloved by the rich and famous and lowly tourists alike, a sense of panic began to chip away at her pulse. The waves felt harsh as they jolted her and the grey craggy rocks beneath the lush greenery of the coastline felt threatening. The heat became uncomfortable and she began to feel breathless.
‘Tesoro, are you okay?’
Usually, the endearment would have warmed her, but it barely even registered as she began to shake her head.
‘Is it the baby? Is—?’
‘No, it’s not the baby. But...can we go back? Can we just...?’ She gripped onto the seat beneath her, knuckles white, desperate to hold on while her world swayed in a way that went far beyond the sea.
Her obvious distress caused Alessandro serious concern and he quickly sped them away from the paths of the large tourist ferries and any other vessels, slowing only where it was safe, and he moored them just off a craggy coastal inlet. Turning off the engine, he sat and wordlessly pulled her into his lap, not stopping to question her need for him.
Amelia wrapped her hands around his neck and clung to him as he swept circles on her back, trying to sooth the jagged breaths.
‘Cara...’
She buried her head in his neck, scared to explain her feelings.
‘Whatever it is, Amelia, it will be okay.’
You are safe with me.
