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“Sure, I guess.” Yara shrugs. “He’s got a good smile and a banging body, and he’s charismatic. That’s all I really want in a one-night stand. Let’s just hope he knows how to use the tool between his legs.”
I shake my head and try to hold back my laughter, but I can’t. Ambros ends up coming back up to the table and takes his seat. “Yara, this is Ambros. Ambros, this is Yara.” I make the introductions, and Yara smiles mischievously at him.
“It’s so nice to meet you. Have fun tonight. I need to get back over to my date.” Yara simply stares at Ambros at first, then gives me a wink before she walks away.
“I’ll bet you two have been friends for a very long time.” Ambros hands me my drink, and I take a sip.
“How can you tell?” I laugh.
“You two have an unspoken language with your eyes. It’s like the two of you don’t have to say anything to understand each other.”
“We’ve been friends since we were little girls. I guess we do, in a way.”
“Sometimes the friendships you forge in your younger years are the best ones.”
“I think so. Yara’s one of my best friends, if not my only friend. When I was younger, I used to have more, but you know how life goes. Sometimes, it tears people apart.”
Ambros takes his seat beside me. “I can only agree to that slightly. If life pulls someone away from you, it likely means they weren’t supposed to be in it at all.”
“I’ve never thought about it that way.” He makes a good point, like Dominika, for example. We were close right around the time I was coming to Grozny for the first time, but ever since then, she’s faded away into the background. I’ve called her a couple of times, but she hasn’t called me back once. I even reached out to her via text and on social media, but still nothing.
“It’s something I’ve learned through the years.”
“You talk like you’re some old man.”
“I am to some people.” Ambros chuckles in a carefree manner, and it makes me smile.
“How old are you?”
“I’m thirty-two.”
“Oh, my word. You’re ancient, aren’t you?” I widen my eyes and make a big spectacle out of it, then take another sip of my drink. As I sip on champagne, I try to hide my amused smirk.
“Ancient is kind. Prehistoric is entirely more accurate.”
Ambros and I both spend the next couple of hours chatting and drinking with one another. Before I know it, it’s already past midnight, yet there’s a large portion of the guests still here partying it up. Ambros and I have been sharing mischievous glances every once in a while, and I’m getting really tired of waiting.
“Do you want to get out of here?” I look right into Ambros’ deep, whiskey-colored eyes. They remind me a bit of my own, but his are darker. I’m surprised that’s even possible.
His expression shifts, and he looks at me with hunger-filled eyes. “Is that what you want, Xava?”
Ah, so he wants to play cat and mouse a bit. “Yes.” I keep my answer plain and simple, not wanting to mess around too much. I’ve spent a good portion of the night with him, and if I don’t at least get one hell of a kiss from Ambros, I’m going to be pissed.
“Then let’s go.” Ambros stands up first, and I follow suit. He slides his arm around my waist as we walk the old paverstone path up the hill. Once we reach the top, we’re at the same portion where the villa is. We walk around the villa to the cobblestone driveway, and there are a couple of men working the valet booth.
I glance around to see where my security is, noticing he’s staring right at me from where we just came from. He stops sipping on his drink and follows suit. I don’t believe he will interfere with the fun-filled evening I have planned, but I know he has to be close by.
Ambros hands his ticket over to one of the men, and he walks off, heading to get Ambros’ car. After a couple of minutes, the man comes back with the car, a Bentley Mulliner Bacalar in a deep yellow color. I’m sure the car’s creator calls it something special, like a yellow flame. Typically, car companies come up with fun colors like that to help upscale the product.
We get inside, and Ambros heads down the driveway. We make idle chit-chat while he drives.
There are barely any lights on in the Tuscan countryside at this time of night. It’s not like Grozny, where there are lights at every street corner or apartment lights from the unit across the street. It’s dark, and in the darkness lies beauty.
Ambros makes a left and pulls down a private driveway. We drive under a row of trees on either side. I glance back in the mirror and notice a vehicle driving behind us. There’s no doubt in my mind that’s my security, but I don’t make a big deal out of it. All I can do is hope Ambros doesn’t notice. I’m nobody to him, and if he realizes I have security, he might begin to ask questions. “It’s tucked away a little bit, which is why I rented this small home. I wanted a little bit of privacy while I took a break this weekend.”
A sole light is attached to the house itself, providing just the minimum of illumination. But I can tell it’s made up of stone, likely the same stone our villa was built from. The doors are painted a deep, evergreen color, and Ambros parks the car right in front of them. We both get out and head over to the home. He takes out a key and unlocks it, then flicks the light switch on.
As we walk inside, I really take in the nineteenth-century architecture. The floors are made from old bricks and spread as far as I can see them. They even extend to the stairwell, and I’m curious to know if they continue on the second floor. Off to our right is a small living area with a raised fireplace. It looks original and has the same bricks surrounding the interior and part of the exterior. The outside is painted cream, which matches the rest of the walls, but the dark stained beam over the top of the fireplace really ties it together.
