Chapter Two
Jane
T he bare bulb in the attic gave off an otherworldly glow as I stood in front of the free-standing mirror to view the outfit I’d settled on. The knee-length, white flared skirt with red floral print and the plain red stretch top made me stand out a little more than I was used to, but the seventies vibe suited me.
Pulling the sides of my hair back, I secured it with a red scarf before pushing my feet into silver heeled sandals and spraying a light mist of my favorite lotus flower and black orchid perfume on my neck and wrists.
I exhaled slowly. I was ready.
I really did rock old world. But then I’d never really felt as though I fit in this century. I’d always felt out of place, an old soul. I only hoped Alessandro wasn’t put off by that fact or that I didn’t put on makeup.
I wasn’t confident with eyeshadow and lipstick, mascara and blush, so I left my face natural.
Doing one final spin, I left the mirror, the boxes and garment racks with their many garments hanging from them and returned to the floor below that was my home. A small kitchen, lounge and dining room, my master bedroom and guest bedroom, which had become my office space.
It wasn’t special, but I’d made the space my own, with the kitchen cupboards I’d painted a deep sea green to offset the white walls and sheer white curtains, my gray sofa with its green cushions and my white marble table with gray seats.
One day I’d change the white vinyl plank flooring—in both the shop and my home—for real timber floorboards, but until then I was more than happy with my living space. It was far more than many other people had.
I poured myself a gin and tonic, tossing in some ice cubes and sipping on it slowly to quell my sudden onset of nerves. I looked up at my sunburst wall clock. It was a couple of minutes away from 7.00 pm.
The doorbell chimed from downstairs, my stomach compressing and my pulse accelerating. I tossed down the remainder of my drink and rinsed the glass before leaving it to dry on the sink.
Grabbing hold of my small white clutch bag, I made my way down the narrow staircase and entered the storeroom at the back of my shop. Sucking in a deep breath, I walked past the racks of hanging clothes and shelves of accessories before I swung open the door.
I almost gasped. He looked incredible. With his dark suit and even darker stare that glinted appreciatively at me, his navy tie and white dress shirt.
He whistled long and slow. “You’re stunning.”
I blinked. “I’m not too old school for you?”
“You’re perfect.”
I wanted to believe him but doubts niggled at me deep inside. I suspected the women he usually dated wore couture evening gowns and dripped in diamonds.
Whatever.
I wasn’t about to change my whole appearance for a man. He either liked me or he didn’t.
I stepped out onto the sidewalk that’d been darkened by earlier rain, much of the city’s grime now washed away. My heels clacked across the pavement as I followed Alessandro to a low-slung, dark sports car.
He opened the passenger door for me and I dropped onto a black leather seat that hugged my body before Alessandro pushed shut the door and enclosed me in what seemed like another world.
I clipped on my seatbelt and glanced at him as he took the driver’s seat, his larger-than-life body seemingly sucking away all the available space. “Do you always do things in such style?”
He shrugged, then pressed a button to start the growling engine. “This has been my way of life for as long as I can remember. To be honest, I rarely even drive anymore.”
He had his own driver? I couldn’t imagine such...luxury. But I also didn’t imagine for a second that he used public transport.
Flicking on the indicator, he drew out into the thinning stream of traffic, his confidence belying his statement about rarely driving.
He glanced at me, then conceded, “Though I do quite often take my Harley out for a spin.”
I should have known he rode motorcycles. He exuded toughness, along with inherent power. I had no doubt he’d been born into wealth. I also had no doubt he’d built on that wealth many times over. He had that look about him, that aura of authority and prestige that came with success.
I shivered. There was also something oddly disturbing about him, like he had a cloak of secrets shielding his true identity. Our close proximity only enhanced that feeling. Then he slowed for some traffic lights ahead and I shook away my alarm, my emotions settling.
I was being paranoid. No doubt the feeling was exacerbated by my non-existent dating life. My short stint with a man—seven weeks, three days—had been enough to last me a lifetime...until Alessandro and entered my life.
I turned to him, my mind going back to why he’d visited my vintage store. “Did your lady friend like the bangle?”
He smiled. “I don’t know. I haven’t given it to her yet.”
“Really?”
He pushed a hand into his pocket, his other hand resting on the steering wheel as he pulled free a velvet bag. “This is for you.”
“Wh-what? You didn’t buy it for me!” I protested.
“Not originally, but I genuinely feel this was always meant for you.”
At the next traffic lights, he reached for my hand and pushed the bangle over my fingers and hand, then onto my wrist, electricity cascading down my arm.
“Thank you,” I said in a croaky voice.
Had a man ever given me a present? I hardly knew Alessandro and he’d already given me more than any man I knew.
“You’re welcome, little sparrow.”
I preened as I held up my wrist adorned with the gold bangle. The diamond clasp glinted under the dash lights. “I think I’m more less sparrow and pheasant and more peacock now I’m wearing gold.”
“You’ll always be my little sparrow,” he said with a smile, his teeth glinting vivid white.
“I’m not sure if I should be offended or complimented.”
“Definitely complimented. You’re one of a kind. I hope you’ll always stay that way.”
I subsided against my seat, satisfied with his answer. It wasn’t often I was noticed let alone praised, I had a style that was all my own, and right now I couldn’t have been prouder of my uniqueness.
Ten minutes later he was pulling into a reserved parking space at the marina. My eyes widened. Was he a celebrity or something? I shook my head. Maybe I just didn’t get out enough. I knew only my contacts in the vintage industry and my customers, otherwise I was pretty much alone in the world.
My throat went tight as an image of my gran flashed in my mind. She’d been more than family, she’d been my best friend and supporter, my cheerleader and my shoulder to cry on. She’d raised me when my mother, her daughter, had been taken from us both thanks to a particularly aggressive strain of ovarian cancer.
I’d been six when she’d been hospitalized, seven when I’d stood staring down at the freshly turned earth with her coffin embedded deep inside it, my nan holding my hand tightly.
My door swung open then, jerking me back to the present. “Are you all right?” he asked huskily.
I nodded. “Yes, of course. Why do you ask?”
“You had that look about you,” he said gently. “It’s one I’ve seen too many times. One of loss and deep introspection.”
I blinked at him. “Just how much loss have you seen?”
His smile was more a grimace. “Too much, clearly.” He proffered me his hand. “Enough morbid talk, let’s enjoy ourselves tonight.”
I couldn’t help but smile at him. “Let’s.”