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“Something the matter?”
“I don't know, Callan, is there?”Shesnaps around and tilts her head. With her big glasses, she looks like a fly.
“Those glasses are ridiculous.”
“And so is my husband, for telling me not to wear a disguise. This is dangerous, Cal.”
I turn and grip her chin, pulling her to me.“Would I ever put you in harm’s way?Ever?” My voice is angrier than I intend on it being, and Zara cups my cheek and bites her lip. “Trust me, angel. Where we are going, you can be yourself.”
She stares at me through the stupidly large glasses, and I yank them off and hold her gaze. We stare it out for a moment, and her rapidly beating heart slows. She’s nervous, and that wasn’t the emotion I was aiming for. I want to surprise her, not put the fear of God into her. I hold her gaze, and my own heartbeat slows to a sated beat. Silence pours through the car, and I allow her to feed off my emotion. It takes a few minutes, but Zara relaxes in the seat.
“Okay,” she finally says, resigned. Calmer.
“Good.” I peck her naturally pouty lips.
It’s a thirty-minute drive before I guide the car up an incline and head towards a building in the distance.
“Oh, wow.” Zara points ahead. “Look at that. Is it a castle?” she wonders.
“It’s a monastery,” I inform her.
“Do you think they do tours?” she asks, expecting us to pass it by, but as we near, I flick the indicator and turn the car along the dusty road leading up to the old building behind a wall entry.
“Let’s find out?” I grin.
“Cal, we can’t just knock on the gates and ask to have a snoop around.” She laughs. “We can come back another time. Where are you taking me, anyway?” she murmurs, checking her reflection in the mirror.
“Here,” I finally admit.
Her face twists to meet mine.
“Why?” She looks up at the high walls and frowns. “What’s in there?”
“Freedom,” I murmur. My response has her forehead furrowing, and I lean to touch it. “Beyond these walls is freedom, angel.” I pick up her hand and kiss her fingertips. “Stay here and stop frowning.”
I jump out and unlock the gates. It needs modernising, that's for sure. Nothing Stalin and I can’t arrange. Zara is gawping at the large building through the now-open gate. I grin and get back in, driving us inside, and I park up outside the large entrance. Behind the wall is an array of buildings: barns, guest quarters, and a chapel.
“Out you get.” I wink and pull her glasses off before I step outside. Zara stays put and looks to see if anyone is about. “It’s just us. It’s been empty for years. Welcome to your new home.” I grin.
The door swings open, and Zara rushes out.
“Home? Wait. You bought it? What the hell, Callan!” She laughs.
“Yes, this way you can walk around and not fear anyone is going to see you. You have an entire estate to enjoy at your leisure without the worry of anyone turning up uninvited. Besides, the villa was giving me a stiff neck.”
“Cal… I can’t.” Her lip wobbles. “I can’t believe you’ve done this?”
“Angel, I’d buy the world for you. Want to look around?” I hold out my hand, and she glides over, giddy eyes brimming with tears.
“It’s stunning. What about the villa?”
“We can keep it and use it to enjoy the beach on weekends. We’re more inland here,” I say, wrapping her plait around my wrist and winking at her. I place my fingers in my mouth, whistling, and it echoes through the complex. “Besides, I think your moans will sound extraordinary in here.”
She slaps my chest.
“This is a house of God,” she admonishes in a hushed tone.
“And I already thank him for the acoustics my wife will bless me with.” I laugh deeply.
