*LORENZO*
The shops in this village are owned by my family’s estate and leased to the locals. They do good business from Easter right through to the New Year. The only one that’s actually useful is the general store. We’re miles from the nearest big town, and it carries a huge range of items. A dulcet bell rings as we enter.
“If there’s anything you need, let know,” I tell Danica, who is looking at the magazine display, swaying slightly. I head to the counter.
“Can I help you?” asks the sales assistant, a tall young woman I don’t recognize.
“Do you stock night-lights? For kids?”
She leaves the counter and searches the shelves in a nearby aisle. “These are the only night-lights we have.” She holds up a box with a small plastic dragon inside.
“I’ll take one.”
“It’ll need batteries,” the assistant informs .
“I’ll take batteries, too.”
She takes the package and returns to the counter, where I spy condoms.
Well, I might get lucky.
I glance around at Danica, who is leafing through one of the magazines.
“I’ll have a packet of condoms, too.”
The young woman blushes, and I’m glad I don’t know her.
“Which would you prefer?” she asks.
“Those.” I point to my brand of choice. Hastily she puts the packet into a plastic bag with the night-light.
Once I’ve paid, I join Danica at the front of the shop, where she’s now checking out the small display of lipsticks.
“Is there anything you want?” I ask.
“No. Thank you.”
Her refusal doesn’t surprise . I’ve never seen her wear makeup. “Shall we go?”
She takes my hand, and we walk back to the lane.
“What is that place?” Danica points at a distant chimney only partly visible as we walk up the lane toward the old mine. I know it, of course; it stands atop of the west wing of the great house that is Moretti Castle.
My ancestral ho.
Fuck!
“That place? It belongs to the Great Morettis.”
“Oh.” Her brow creases for a mont, and we continue on in silence while I wage an inner war with myself.
Tell her you’re the fucking heir to the Moretti family.
No.
Why not?
I will. Not yet.
Why not?
I want her to know first.
Know you?
Spend ti with .
“Can we go down to the beach again?” Danica’s eyes are alight with excitent once more.
“Of course.”
Danica is entranced by the sea. She runs with the sa uninhibited joy into the shallow surf. The Wellingtons keep her feet dry from the crashing waves.
She is...effervescent.
***********
Lorenzo has given her the sea.
Overco with giddy delight, she closes her eyes, stretches out her arms, and breathes in the chilly, salted air. She can’t rember ever feeling this...full. For the first ti in a long ti, she’s enjoying a small slice of happiness. She has a keen sense of connection to the cold, wild landscape that sohow makes her feel happy.
She feels like she belongs.
She is complete.
Turning around, she regards Lorenzo as he stands on the shoreline with his hands deep in his coat pockets, watching her. The wind ripples his hair, the traces of gold glinting in the sun. His eyes are full of mirth and shine a burning erald green.
He is breathtaking.
And her heart is full. Full to the brim. She loves him.
Yes. She loves him.
She is giddy. Excited. And in love. This is what it should feel like. Joyful. Filling. Free.
The realization surges through her like the bracing Cornish wind that whips her hair across her face.
She is in love with Lorenzo.
All her unarticulated feelings bubble to the surface, and her face erupts into a gawatt smile. His answering smile is dazzling, and for a mont she dares to hope.
Perhaps one day he will feel the sa way, too?
She dances over to him and in an unguarded mont launches herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck.
“Thank you for bringing here,” she exclaims, breathless.
He grins down at her as he holds her close. “It’s my pleasure,” he says.
“It will be!” she quips, and laughs as his eyes widen and his mouth drops open.
She wants him. All of him.
She whirls out of his arms and back into the shallows.
************
*LORENZO*
Good God, she’s tipsy, maybe even a little drunk. And beautiful. I’m infatuated.
Suddenly she slips and falls as a wave crashes over her.
Shit.
Panicked, I race to help. She tries to scramble to her feet and slips again, but when I reach her, she’s laughing. And soaked. I help her up. “I think that’s enough swimming for one day,” I mutter. “It’s freezing. Let’s get you ho.” And I take her hand.
Danica gives a crooked grin and trails after across the sand toward the path back to the house. Pausing every few steps, she seems reluctant to leave the beach, but she’s still giggling and appears happy enough. I don’t want her catching a chill.
Back in the warmth of the Hideout, I pull her into my arms. “Your giggling is irresistible.” I kiss her quickly, and slip off her soaking coat. Her jeans are sodden, but thankfully the rest of her clothes underneath seem dry. I rub her arms briskly to warm her. “You should go and change.”
“Okay.” Danica grins and heads toward the stairs. Taking her coat, well, I hang it up in the hallway over the radiator, where it will dry. I remove my boots and socks, which are also wet, then head into the guest cloakroom.
When I co out, she’s disappeared and I assu she’s gone upstairs to find a dry pair of jeans. I sit down on one of the kitchen barstools and call the housekeeper. to arrange supper.
Next I call Tom.
“Enzo. How the devil are you?”
“Good, thanks. Anything to report from the job I gave you?”
“The woman and the child are safe. Those punks went into hiding but we got a lead.”
“Good.”
“You know, old boy, I’ve been thinking. This is an awful lot of trouble to go to for your cleaner. She’s a pretty girl and all that, but I hope she’s worth it.”
“She is.”
“I’ve never known you to be a sucker for a damsel in distress.”
“She’s not a dam...”
“I hope you’ve sealed the deal.”
“Tom, that’s none of your fucking business.”
“Okay. Okay. I’ll take that as a no.” He laughs.
“Tom,” I warn.
“Yes. Yes. Enzo. Keep your bloody hair on. It’s all good here. That’s all you need to know.”
“Thank you. Keep updated.”
“Will do. Bye.” He hangs up. I stare down at the phone.
Punk!
I emailed Dante.
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