Chapter 24
GIANNA
He brought me to a beautiful cove, sheltered on all sides by tall rocks, the ocean enclosed by them the color of moonlight— pure melted moonlight.
The sand is still warm from the day’s sunlight and pleasantly soft against my bare feet and the breeze carries that fresh scent it only carries here in California.
It looks so much like the little cove where I gave myself to him for the first time that I’m having trouble forming a coherent thought. Let alone speaking.
How different things could’ve been if he’d just trusted me and not attacked my family.
I’d have given him the army he needed. I’d have given him anything.
But would I have been able to do that? Truly?
My father wouldn’t understand that I love him. He wouldn’t have just let me marry him.
His way got him everything he needed and wanted, me included. And it gave me everything too. I can’t deny that.
“Do you like it?” he asks, and I realize I’ve just been standing here in the sand, staring at the ocean, not moving, hardly breathing.
I exhale and look at him. Even in the dead of night, the look he gives me is pure sunlight—hot, intense, all just for me.
“It looks just like the cove at my family’s beach house,” I say. “The one where…”
I don’t know how to finish that sentence.
For so long, I saw him as the enemy, as someone I must hate.
But I don’t know if that’s what I want anymore.
And I don’t want to sound too harsh in whatever I say.
Because it was false pretenses that brought us together—his false pretenses.
But I’m starting to accept that maybe his feelings for me were genuine all along, despite everything that came later.
“Where I took your virginity, yeah,” he finishes the sentence for me, grinning like he’s a little embarrassed. “This is where I lost mine. So I thought I’d be fitting to bring you here.”
He takes off his jacket and lays it on the sand, motioning for me to sit. I do, and he sits beside me in the sand.
“You know your way around these beaches, don’t you?” I say. “I bet this wasn’t the only beach where you did it.”
He laughs. “No, not by a long shot. And yeah, I know all the beaches around here pretty well. From here all the way to Mexico, actually. I know all the best spots too. From when I wanted to do nothing but surf.”
“You wanted to be a surfer?” I ask. “Never would’ve guessed it.”
He grins wide and makes that surfer sign with his hand, the hang loose sign with this thumb and pinky extended, and the rest of his fist closed. “Not just wanted to be. I was pretty good. I could’ve done it professionally.”
“But you couldn’t because of you family and the obligations.”
He shrugs and looks out at the soft waves.
His eyes are full of longing. And regret.
“Yeah. I figured that between my father and brother they had it covered, and I could do whatever I wanted. My brother didn’t exactly like to share, and he was the main heir.
I figured they wouldn’t miss me. But you know how it is, there’s no easy way out of families like ours. ”
I nod even though he doesn’t see. “And now here you are, the only one left standing. And starting a war to get it all back.”
“I think I’d still prefer to be on some beach down in Mexico, catching waves,” he says. “I wanted to just go after my mom died. And I still think maybe I should’ve.”
“You have doubts about this war, don’t you?” I ask.
“Not that I’ll win it,” he says, stands up and starts removing his clothes. “But that’s enough of this depressing conversation. Let’s go for a swim. I haven’t been in the ocean since we got here.”
I stand up too and by then he’s already got his vest and shirt off and is working on removing his pants. He looks as excited as a little kid. But I’m watching the waves cautiously.
“You’re an almost pro surfer and all, but the way I see it, waves and rocks don’t exactly mix.”
He pauses in the act of pulling down his boxers. Some of his tattoos are catching the light, especially the sad, mourning angel on his chest. But the ones underneath all the crosses and other symbols of death—the flowers and birds, palm trees, and waves—are somehow more visible in this light.
“Are you afraid you’ll almost drown again?” he asks. “Don’t worry. I saved you once and I’ll do it again.”
“You didn’t just save me once,” I mutter and turn my back on him. “Help me with this zipper.”
He moves like I’d just given him the present of his life and has my dress open and is slipping it off me in half a second flat.
I didn’t wear a bra with it, because I didn’t buy one without straps and this dress is the off-the-shoulder kind so I’m suddenly standing before him in just a very translucent lacy thong.
“You really are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he says hoarsely, sounding like he’s been holding his breath for a long time too.
“I bet you said that to the first girl you brought here too,” I say, wondering why I can’t just take his compliment, bask in it and his sunshine gaze like I’d bask if the sun really was shining.
He laughs. “Yeah, I probably did. But I don’t even remember what she looked like. I don’t remember what any of them looked like. I just remember you now.”
Wow. The surge of warmth those words brought burned right through whatever cynical thing my mind might’ve come up with to deflect his words of love.
“Come on, all of it,” he says as he pulls down his boxers,
He’s already striding towards the water before I remove my thong and is standing hip deep as I walk into the waves.
They lick my feet and ankles like an invitation to a seductive dance, the feeling so much different than in any other ocean I’ve ever been in, especially the one back home.
That one is cold and harsh, daring you to test its might.
This one is soft and inviting, calm despite the waves crashing on the rocks. It’s much warmer too.
“What are you waiting for, the water’s great,” he calls to me. I approach him slowly, enjoying the way the water is accepting me.
Which all comes to an abrupt and sudden end as he splashes me once I get close enough. I shriek and he laughs then dives before I can return the favor. Dives right into the melted moonlight that is the water here.
And doesn’t come back up.
The ripples from his dive are already disappearing and he’s still nowhere. Seconds pass. They feel like hours. My heart is beating so fast I’m having trouble breathing.
“Matteo, where are you?” I call out, even though I know he can’t hear me under the water. “Come on! This isn’t funny anymore.”
And still nothing. Now even the ripples are gone. There’s just melted moonlight all around me, pulling me in, pulling me closer.
“Matteo, come on!” I call out again, softer this time. Because it feels so useless. He’s just gone. And I’ve never felt so alone.
Then he suddenly jumps out of the water right in front of me, splashing me again. He pulls me into his arms, holding me tight under the surface of all this moonlight around us.
“Were you scared I wouldn’t come up again?” he asks grinning at me. His eyes are full of that same moonlight all around us, but they’re as warm as the sun, and his lips are glistening nicer than the stars.
“Yes, I was,” I whisper and kiss him.
Because it’s the truth, because I’ve never felt as alone as I did when I thought he was lost to me, and because it’s just the two of us here, on this beach, bathed in this moonlight and I wanted to taste his starry lips.
The kiss just lasts and lasts, better and softer and more inviting than the warm, pleasant water we’re floating in. And I want it to last forever. No matter all the rest that would bring. Despite it.
Because Matteo Rovina and I, we were meant for each other. I know that now. I’ve always known it. And I accept it.
The path that brought us together was rocky and thorny and all wrong. But this is all right. This kiss, the feel of his arm around me, the sun in his eyes when he looks at me.
It’s all exactly perfect. And exactly the way it must be.