Chapter 1 Anabel #2
“Il prezzo del vero desiderio del tuo cuore è una moneta,” he murmurs. I could listen to him speak Italian all day, honestly. “Perché nulla viene senza sacrificio.”
“What does it mean?” I whisper. He straightens, hands in his pockets.
“The price of your heart’s true desire is a coin. Nothing comes without sacrifice.”
The words settle over me like a spell, and my fingers tighten around the strap of my purse. I don’t even have to think. I already know what I want.
Cole. He’s my heart’s desire. For him to love me, to be happy, to have everything he’s ever wanted. I want Cole to be my sweet best friend and my filthy lover. That’s what I want.
A little statue of Cupid perches at the very top of the fountain, chubby and sweet, his bow drawn back like he’s just waiting for someone to fire on. He looks like a little baby angel, so pure and innocent.
I dig into my purse and pull out a one euro coin, the metal cool against my palm. Cole’s gaze flicks to me, one eyebrow lifting. “You’re making a wish?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. My throat is too tight. Hope and need are filling me so fully that I don’t have room for anything else.
Something I can’t name shifts in his expression, but his fingers drift to his pocket, and then he’s pulling out a coin of his own. The air between us goes still. The sounds of the city fade, and it’s like we’re the only two people in Rome right now.
We stand there, coins pressed between our fingers, the water trickling over the stone. His eyes lock onto mine, dark and searching. The space between us seems to hum with energy.
I roll my eyes, trying to play it cool even as my heart hammers against my ribs. “Yeah, I’m making a wish. I’m aware that it’s just a silly tourist thing.”
Cole smirks, but his fingers tighten around his coin. “Yeah, totally…totally silly.” His voice is light, but there’s something in his eyes, something soft and serious that betrays that lightness.
I don’t let myself overthink it. I close my eyes, press the coin to my lips, and wish. I want Cole to love me back, the way I love him. I want him to be my best friend who makes me come my brains out. I want him to be happy.
Then I toss the coin.
It arcs through the air, catching the fading golden light before it splashes quietly into the water. I watch the ripples spread, my pulse thrumming in my throat.
Cole exhales, almost like he’s steadying himself. Then with a quick flick of his wrist, his coin follows. It hits the water with a quiet plink, the ripples from his coin chasing mine.
A sudden gust of warm, sweet smelling air rushes over us, surrounding us with the scents of honey and roses.
The street lamps flicker, just once, their light dimming for a heartbeat before flaring back to life.
My skin prickles, the hairs on my arms standing up.
As quickly as it happened, it’s over. The lights are back to normal, and the scent is gone.
Cole glances over at me, a puzzled look on his gorgeous face. “Did you—?”
I swallow. “Uh, yeah.”
We stare at each other, the weight of the moment pressing between us. The fountain’s water glows faintly, as if lit from beneath, and the air hums with something electric, something alive.
Cole’s lips part like he’s about to say something, but then his gaze darts away, his fingers flexing at his sides. The moment stretches, fragile and charged, before he clears his throat.
“Well,” he says with a little laugh. “That was… weird.”
“Yeah,” I agree. I have the sudden, insane urge to tell him what I wished for. The words are right there, teetering on the tip of my tongue.
But my fear at ruining everything with Cole is stronger than that urge, and it clamps around me like a vise, squeezing until my breathing goes shallow. What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if he laughs? What if he pities me? What if I tell him the truth and I lose him?
Cole’s gaze flicks away, his hand lifting to rub the back of his neck. His curls are a mess from the breeze, and I have to flex my fingers into my palms to stop myself from reaching out to smooth them down.
A beat of silence stretches between us. I should say something, anything to break it. But the words stick in my throat, and all I can do is watch the way a muscle jumps in his jaw, the way he rocks back on his heels. He’s just as unnerved as I am, which is somewhat comforting.
God, I want to know what he wished for so badly.
Finally, he exhales, a small, forced laugh escaping him. “We should, uh… we should head back. How about a glass of wine at the hotel bar?” His eyes meet mine, just for a second, before darting away again. “Yeah?”
I nod too quickly. “Yeah. Wine sounds perfect.”
We fall into step beside each other as we head back to our hotel, our arms brushing as we walk.
The contact sends a jolt through me every single time, my skin tingling where we touch even through the fabric of his jacket.
I want to lean into him, to press my side fully against his, but I don’t.
Instead, I keep my hands tucked into the sleeves of his jacket, my fingers curling into the cuffs.
Cole clears his throat. “So, uh… what do you think that was back there?” He gestures vaguely toward the fountain. His voice is light, but there’s an edge to it, something unsteady.
I force a laugh, the sound too high and brittle, because truth be told, I’m still a bit on edge. “Probably just an oddly timed gust of wind or something.” I shrug, trying to play it off. “Or maybe we’re just overtired from all the sightseeing and the jetlag.”
He hums, but it’s noncommittal, like he’s not really buying it. His shoulder brushes mine again, and I don’t pull away. Neither does he. The silence between us isn’t uncomfortable, not exactly, but it’s heavy, like we’re both holding our breath, waiting for the other to say something real.
* * *
Luca
Twin coins splash into my fountain, and as the ripples dance across the water, I can hear the wishes made.
From her: I want Cole to love me back, the way I love him. I want him to be my best friend who makes me come my brains out. I want him to be happy.
From him: I wish I had the courage to tell Anabel that I’m in love with her. I wish I was brave enough to chase everything I want.
Two young lovers, wishing for each other.
I’m intrigued, I must admit. Something about these wishes calls to me in a way I don’t fully understand.
I snap my fingers and materialize in a darkened alleyway, watching them as they walk by.
I step out of the alley as they pass, and from a distance I can hear their soft laughter.
The stones around me are still warm from the afternoon’s sun, the air cooling now as the sun dips below the horizon.
The air smells like vanilla and crushed flower petals, and I pull a deep breath into my lungs as I start to follow them.
I’m entranced by the way her skirt flows around her legs, the way her hair catches the last gleam of the sunset, making it look like spun gold.
I have the sudden urge to twist it around my fist just to see if it’s as soft and thick as it looks.
With a small grunt, I wrench my attention from her to him.
Fuck.
He’s tall, lean, all nervous energy barely contained. He keeps glancing at her like she’s the answer to a question he’s too afraid to ask. His fingers twitch at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to reach for her. I can practically taste the want rolling off him in waves.
They’re delicious.
I keep my distance, and they don’t notice me.
It’s not surprising, given how wrapped up they are in each other.
They walk together, the awkward longing a palpable thing between them.
They’re close, but not touching. She bumps into him, and he steadies her, his hand lingering on her waist a second too long.
Her chest rises and falls in a rapid rhythm, her cheeks pink.
His fingers flex. But then he pulls away, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
Interesting. So very, very interesting.
I keep following them, watching, observing.
Their wishes aren’t just words. They’re alive.
Pulsing with the kind of longing that doesn’t fade, doesn’t dilute, doesn’t lie.
I’ve felt millions of wishes in my time.
Most are fleeting—lust, infatuation, the desperate grab for something shiny and new. But this? This is different.
I can feel the purity of their wishes in my bones.
The truth of them. Anabel’s wish trembles with fear.
She wants him—Gods, she wants him—but the thought of ruining what they have terrifies her.
And Cole? He doesn’t just want her. He loves her.
And that love is tangled up in so much doubt, so much hesitation, that it’s choking him.
They’re both so afraid of speaking the truth, of reaching for what they crave. Afraid of the hunger between them.
I exhale a slow, deep breath, and the air around me shimmers. My magic hums in my veins. I close my eyes and extend my senses outward. There’s something about this wish. It’s important somehow, but I can’t grasp on to exactly why.
In any case, I’m going to answer their wish. I don’t usually get involved in human wishes, but there’s something about these two…Something that calls to me.
If they’re too scared to take what they want, then I’ll give them a push.
I’ll help them find their way to each other, help them to overcome their fear and their nerves and show them everything they could have.
It’s right at their fingertips. And based on the desperate flavour of their wishes, it won’t take much.
They don’t even need a push, not really. More of a nudge.
I follow them into their hotel lobby, no one paying me any attention. They head straight for the elegant wine bar off to the left, so I do, too. The heavy wooden door shuts quietly behind me, and I take in my surroundings, all polished wood and flickering candlelight. They still haven’t noticed me.
They make their way to an empty booth, and Anabel slides in, her skirt riding up and giving me a glimpse of creamy skin.
Cole hovers beside her, close but not touching, like he’s afraid she might bolt if he leans in too far.
He slides in across from her, and his fingers drum against the table, restless.
She twirls a lock of hair around her finger, her lips parted like she’s about to say something, then thinks better of it.
I take a seat at the far end of the bar, close enough to watch, to feel the heat of their longing, but far enough that they won’t notice me. I order a glass of Chianti and settle in, watching them.
They’re both so gorgeous, so sweet and young, that it almost hurts to look at them. They’ll make an absolutely stunning couple.
As I sip my wine, I can’t help but let myself imagine what it would be like to be between them.
To have her softness pressed against me, to feel his hesitant hands finally losing that careful control. Because as much as he wants Anabel, there are hidden desires there, too. Gods, what would it be like to be the one they look at like I’m the answer to everything?
I swallow hard.
No.
I’m not here for that. I’m here to nudge, to guide, to make sure their wishes come true. That’s all.
That’s all there ever is for me.
The loneliness settles in my chest like a stone. Centuries of watching, helping, and then leaving. Never staying. Never being chosen. I’ve seen every kind of love, every desperate confession, every stolen kiss. And yet, here I am, alone.
Jupiter doesn’t like us gods getting involved with mortals. It’s too messy, too complicated. Which only leaves the pantheon of gods for me, romantically speaking, and I’m related to most of them, so…no thanks.
The God of Love and Sex, doomed to spend eternity as an outsider. It’s a bit pathetic, really.
I shake my head, forcing the thought away. This isn’t about me. It’s about them.
It can only be about them.