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“That is all I need,” she shrugged back. “When you are on the run, it’s best to pack light.”
I dropped my arm back down. “Well, you are not on the run anymore.” I reached for my phone and started typing a text to my personal shopper. I knew she was the same size as Elle. “What shoe size are you? Bra size?”
Liv’s face did that cute little thing it does when she’s confused and slightly annoyed. Her nose wrinkled, eyes narrowed and lips pouted. “Why do you need to know that? Gio, I don’t need you to buy me anything! I have my own money.”
“I am guessing a size 5 shoe and 34B?” I glanced down at her breasts admiring them in her little sundress and she scoffed loudly.
“Hidden talent?” she joked as she picked up her clothes and placed them in a drawer. I was right. One drawer and a few hangers was all she needed.
I smirked wickedly and finished the text message before she strolled out of the wardrobe and sat on the chair by the window. She smiled at me when she saw me watching her intently.
“What?”
“Nothing. I just like it. You being here. Making yourself at home.”
She glanced out the window with a sweet smile as she looked across the well-kept lawns and swimming pool. “Who’d have thought…that one day I would be living in a bloody mansion! Definitely not me,” she chuckled to herself. I turned on my side to watch her as she got lost in her thoughts.
“What was your childhood like? Growing up?” I asked, genuinely interested. I wanted to know every little detail about this woman. No matter how small or insignificant they may seem to everyone else. I wanted to know her inside out and for her to know me. For the first time in my life, I wanted to give myself completely to someone and I had no qualms about doing so. It was a warming feeling.
“It was okay. I can’t complain. We had a roof over our heads, food on the table and I went to a good school and had nice friends. It was pretty normal really.”
“Stop being vague bambola. I want to know everything. What is your first childhood memory? Did you have any hobbies growing up? What were you like at school? I bet you were a nerd,” I smirked, and she whipped her head towards me with a cheeky grin.
“A-star student through and through,” she beamed proudly.
“Of course, you were,” I chuckled and patted the bed. She climbed off the chair and jogged over to me, jumping on to the bed like a little kid and lying next to me.
“Oh my goodness! Are these bed sheets actually made of silk? Who do you think you are? Hugh Heffner?”
Turning on my side slightly so she had my full attention, I smirked. “Don’t change the subject. I’ve noticed you do that. You change the topic when people ask you personal questions.” Her face fell slightly as she stared up at me. I got lost in the vibrancy of her two-toned eyes as her expression became almost sad.
“I do that, don’t I? I don’t mean to. It’s just after so many years of not wanting people to know what happened to me, I guess I have used it as a coping mechanism.”
“I get it,” I reached up with my one free arm to smooth her hair away from her face and she blinked back at me. She suddenly seemed so vulnerable. She was lowering her guard. Letting me in.
“My parents were hard workers. We never had a huge amount of money, but we managed. After my dad died, mum had to get a second job and we didn’t have any other family close by, so I ended up in after-school clubs a lot or my friend Millie’s family helped out with childcare. I think that is why I ended up feeling more comfortable in their house than my own. I remember wishing or pretending that they were my family when I was little. Then I would feel so guilty.”
I led still and kept my gaze on her as she traced my tattoos on my hand that was resting on the bed between us. Again, I recognised it as a coping strategy. Keeping her hands busy or focusing on something else so she could freely talk without having to meet my gaze.
“I liked drawing and reading as a child. I also loved going down to the beach. Living in London, there weren’t many beaches near us, but once a year, mum and I would pack the car up and drive down to Cornwall for a long weekend. We would stay in a caravan park and I would spend every minute I could by the sea. Even when it was far from sunny, which it isn’t often in England,” she smiled as her eyes flickered up to mine.
“I’d like to see your beaches in England.”
She giggled and I wanted to kiss her, but I also did not want to distract her. She was opening up and I could slowly see she was feeling more comfortable about talking about herself. “I think you would be a little disappointed compared to the beaches you have here in Italy.”
“Hmmm, I think it's your weather that would annoy the hell out of me! I hate the rain.”
“Oh god, you would hate England then. It never stops raining! But I have always found the rain quite calming. I’m weird. I love thunderstorms too.”
“You are weird,” I smirked, and she pouted at me. Why was she so cute? “Ok so beaches, thunderstorms, reading and drawing, A-star student. Sounds like you were a dream child?”
She moved onto her back so she was staring up at the ceiling. “Far from it. I wasn’t naughty. But I also didn’t let people push me around and I NEVER did anything I didn’t want to.” She chuckled as she recalled some memories.
“Now that sounds more like the Liv I know.”
“Mills and I used to sneak out of our houses at night just to meet up in a huge oak tree between our roads and drink her dad’s stolen vodka. I don’t know why we did it. We thought we were cool. But now I can’t stand the taste of it! That was before everything changed.”
Her body tensed next to me, and I knew instantly what she was referring to. Or who she was referring to. I didn’t know whether pushing her to talk about this now would be a step too far, but to my surprise, she continued.
