Page 11 of Enduring Caine
I interrupted Samantha before she could react in a veryherway. “Mario is expecting us in Napoli later today. Let me call him first and then we’ll hand everything over.”
Samantha’s face hardened further. I gave her a quick look, silently conveying,Not now, bella. This was going to be a difficult few days.
Cristian entered the bedroom on the villa’s second floor, strolling to the center and throwing his arms wide. “Your old room! We thought you’d be most comfortable here.”
The man who carried my bag placed it on the red and gold covers of the king-sized bed, under a white chiffon canopy. They’d changed the colors since I used to stay here, but the cream-colored wing chairs remained by a window next to the single door leading out onto the large terrace. Through the glass door with its ornate metalwork, one of the cypress trees was visible, and then the sea beyond.
“Grazie, cugino.” I led Samantha to the terrace door to see the view. It was mid-afternoon and balmy outside, but the rain kept us inside. In January, the weather just south of Roma was more akin to Michigan in the early spring. “I think we’ll take a nap before dinner. It’s been a long day.”
“You misunderstand, Antonio,” said Cristian.
The man with Samantha’s bag hadn’t joined us.
“This room is for you. Our lovely Samantha will be staying in a guest room in the tower.”
“No.” I’d invited her to join me for two weeks in Italia as a couple, not as individual travelers crossing paths in the night. “As I told your driver, the only way I would come is if she joined me. I’m not leaving her alone in a separate section of the villa.”
Cristian shrugged but didn’t invite the man with her bags inside. “Mi scusi, but these are Papa’s rules now. No ring, no shared bed.”
This was a dramatic departure from the last time I’d been here.
I held up my left hand, showing the black ceramic promise ring I wore. “I have one of those, as does she.”
“Antonio, it’s alright.” Samantha laid a hand on my arm. It most certainly was not alright. She’d deny it if I asked, but it was clear the woman could barely sleep an hour without me next to her. Hopefully the nightmares would fade by the time she went home, but it wouldn’t miraculously happen by tonight.
I eased my injured arm across my body, placing my hand atop hers. It was instinct, and the jolt of pain screaming through my bicep reminded me that my instincts were sometimes wrong.
Cristian shook his head. “Unless you wish to have them blessed by a priest and start introducing her as your wife instead of your girlfriend, those don’t count.”
“Fine.” I stepped to the bed, a thousand memories of staying here flowing over me. Sneaking in study time, late nights drinking and talking with Cristian, and women who weren’t a fraction as perfect for me as Samantha. I threw the duffel over my shoulder. “Then put me in the room next to hers. I never liked this bed.”
Chapter 6
Samantha
Thefamilydiningroomwas opulent. Overdone, even. A huge carved table that could sit ten comfortably, five-foot long gold-framed paintings on two walls, tapestries on the others. Sixteen-foot coffered ceilings decorated with pale blue and white paint, gold leaf covering the coffers. Double doors into the kitchen and more to the courtyard out front, plus two sets of doors leading to a garden at the side of the house.
And a giant carved fireplace with gargoyles on it.
If the separate rooms hadn’t pissed me off, or if there weren’t so many guards wandering the villa and tower with a mix of sidearms and the occasional semi-automatic rifle, I would have been excited to explore. The small globe security cameras which appeared in every single room eliminated any excitement that might have survived.
Fort Knox had nothing on this place.
Added to all that, it was well past sunset at eight o’clock in the evening, and I hadn’t gotten any sleep. The best I could manage was a shower to wash off the long day of travel.
All I could make out through the glass doors and the rain that had been growing progressively stronger all day were bushes and trees. When the weather warmed up and the flowers bloomed, Antonio claimed it was one of the most magical places he’d ever been.
He sat next to me, gentle light from the ornate three-tiered chandelier highlighting his cheekbones and sharp jaw. His handsome face was pinched, betraying how much the ordeal we’d been through had affected him.
Giovanni sat at one end of the table, Cristian at the other end. Leonardo—Cristian’s friend and head of security—sat across from Antonio. Gio’s fourteen-year-old daughter Francesca—who politely asked us to drop the ‘Fran’ and call her Cesca—sat across from me.
“You truly live in a campervan?” Cesca said, eyes wide and speech as rapid as it had been since Giovanni introduced her to us. She spoke in English, which we all did since sitting at the table, and she wanted to know everything about the States.
“Not since last summer. It’s been parked since June.” I scooped a spoonful of minestrone. “It’s different from camping over here, I think. I tow it with my truck.”
She leaned forward. “How big is the truck?”
Antonio laughed. Spending time with his little cousin shook some negativity off him. “It’s a behemoth.”