Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
The following four days were a juggling act between shuffling guests from one place to the next, avoiding alone time with Roman, and answering texts from Zali that alternated between ‘Are you okay?’ and ‘Snap out of it, sister; you’ve done nothing wrong ,’ to ‘You’re a sexy, single young woman who deserves to be fucked 69 ways to the moon and back.’
Luckily for me, I hadn’t had too much time to stew over my conflicting emotions. Since we’d left Monte Carlo, we’d been to the Leaning Tower of Pisa. In Florence, we’d visited Galleria dell ’Accademia to marvel at Michelangelo’s giant naked statue of David, and we’d crossed the Ponte Vecchio bridge where, for the first time ever, I bought a trinket from the overpriced jumble of shops.
In Rome, we did the half-day tour of the morbidly fascinating catacombs and bone church, strolled around the Colosseum and surrounding ruins, and ate freshly made pasta from one of the dozens of cute restaurants dotted along a cobblestoned street. We had a gondola ride in Venice complete with Valentine, one of our gondoliers, singing a surprisingly spectacular rendition of “That’s Amore” that had all the ladies giggling and the men rolling their eyes.
Finally, we hopped aboard the bus again for an early morning drive to Austria.
I’d taken to sitting in amongst the passengers to chat with them about each city we visited, and I was pretty sure Roman knew I was dodging him. Each of the sixteen times he’d asked me if I was okay, I’d given him the same response . . . yes, of course.
But I wasn’t okay. I was far from it.
What I’d done with Oscar had changed me, and I couldn’t decide if it was for the better or worse. Our sexual encounter had been absolutely amazing, there was no denying that, but it was what had happened afterward that screwed with my brain.
Oscar had gotten what he wanted and then cast me aside.
The problem was, I’d gotten what I wanted too—sexual gratification. I’d gone looking for it and I received it. I’d also had two of the most amazing orgasms of my life. But given my limited experience, that wasn’t such a grand statement.
Yet, my mind wouldn’t let go of how my night with Oscar had ended.
It was like I’d expected more. Flowers. Chocolates. His phone number. I had no idea what the ‘more’ was. But I felt hollow and couldn’t figure out why.
Recognizing the road Roman turned the bus into, I excused myself from the seat beside Claudette and stood.
With the microphone on, I held it to my lips. “Okay, party animals, who’s ready to work off those lunchtime calories?”
There were as many affirmations as there were groans from the passengers.
“Our next adventure is hiking along the Liechtensteinklamm alpine gorge. Pop on your walking shoes and grab a water bottle and your camera. Everything else can stay on board with Roman.”
As people began shuffling about, changing their shoes, fiddling with packs, I continued talking. “This is the longest and deepest wild-water ravine in the Alps. The chasm was carved out during the last Ice Age and is named after Johann II, Prince of Liechtenstein, who donated a bucket-load of money to complete the walkways in 1876. You can explore on your own, and I suggest walking all the way to the waterfall at the end—it’s magnificent. I’m not going to tell you anymore; this place speaks for itself.”
“Thank God. Thought she’d never shut up.”
I cocked my head at Warren, and he snapped his eyes away.
His point was taken though. I’d barely shut up in four days. My tortured conscience was torturing everyone else too. I made my way to the front of the bus and hooked up the microphone, and as I sat, Roman eased the bus into the designated parking bay.
I glanced at him and when he met my gaze the disappointment in his eyes had tendrils of guilt inching up my spine.
Everybody but Roman piled off the bus, and I led the group the short distance to the walkway entrance. I paid for our tickets and gathered them together, requesting their attention. “Okay, listen up, I need you all back on board in one hour, forty-five minutes.” I checked my watch. “So that’s quarter to four. Don’t be late.”
I handed out the tickets and the American men stormed on ahead. After everyone had headed off, I was in two minds over whether to explore the gorge again or sit with Roman.
Deciding I wasn’t ready to explain my tumbling thoughts, I stepped onto the narrow walkway and prayed the pristine scenery would give me some clarity. Legend had it that the springs beneath the gorge had healing powers. For the next ninety minutes, I hoped osmosis would infuse those powers into me.
The path had been attached to the rock wall by incredibly talented engineers, but its age meant it required constant checking by geologists. On my first visit here, I had taken every step carefully, and the hovering walkway that clung precariously over the gorge made my stomach do flips. Not anymore though, I stepped onto the elevated platform with confidence, ready to purge my blackened conscience.
Below me, the fast-flowing water was an intriguing teal color, like it had flowed right off a glacier. The raging water was flanked by vertical cliffs that soared one thousand feet high. Sunlight struggled to enter the gorge, and in some places, it was almost impossible to see.
The walkway curved around corners, over bridges, and through tunnels that’d been carved into the rock. Faint mist drifting up from the torrent gave me a wonderful mystical feeling, and I breathed in deep, cleansing my mind and soul.
My thoughts floated to my current turmoil and why it affected me so much.
Oscar and I were both consenting adults. I’d gone to his room with every intention of getting my clothes off. We didn’t even get that far, but there was no denying how incredible the sex had been.
So, what was my problem?
I glided my fingers over a wet rock almost completely concealed with emerald green moss. The jagged edges against the softness of the miniature leaves were a complete contrast to each other, much like Oscar and me.
In the distance, a dull roar indicated I was closing in on the waterfall, which meant I’d been walking for about forty-five minutes.
Yet my mind still hadn’t settled .
The roar grew louder as I stepped out from beneath a rocky outcrop. Tiny droplets filled the air with a fine mist. The waterfall wasn’t the largest I’d ever seen, but I still found it mesmerizing. I stepped onto the platform that overhung the river, placed my hands on the rail, and stared into the tumbling curtain. History and architecture were my thing, but it was nature’s beauty that rejuvenated me.
People mingled around the platform, snapping photos of the waterfall and selfies with it in the background.
“Daisy, can you take our photo?” Tiffany held her phone toward me.
“Sure.”
Tiffany stepped back against the railing and placed her arm around her sister. The two of them adjusted their stance, flicked their ponytails forward, pulled back their shoulders, and pouted their lips, working on an obviously practiced pose before they finally smiled. I snapped several photos and handed the phone back.
“Come on. We need a selfie with you.” Tiffany waved me forward.
I stepped away. “Oh no, no, that’s okay.”
“We don’t have a single photo of us together.”
“It’s okay, really.”
She reached for my arm. “Come on. Don’t be silly.”
Despite my protest, I was quickly sandwiched between perfectly straight, platinum blond hair and even more perfect olive skin. “Smile,” she commanded, and as she clicked photo after photo, the two of them pouted and grinned like professional models.
Stepping out from between them, I blurted, “Please don’t tag me in the photo.”
“Oh, will you look at that.” Robert’s booming voice snapped the sisters’ attention from me. “Three cheeky monkeys. ”
Robert sprinted away, dodging between the people ahead of him, and the squealing sisters gave chase. Within seconds the three of them were a blur of blonde hair in the distance.
I had no idea if they’d heard my request about tagging me and made a mental note to repeat it later.
Returning my gaze to the waterfall, I inhaled long and deep, trying to force turmoil from my mind. After a couple of minutes, I was the only person left on the viewing deck. The peace was heaven. Just me and nature. Breathing in the crisp air, I closed my eyes. The roar of the water and peaceful surroundings had a delightful sense of calm washing over me. This was going to be one of those special settings I’d miss when I left Europe.
Reluctantly, I released my hands from the rail and turned to go back toward the bus.
I took one step.
Damn it. Oscar was right back in my mind. Slamming me into uncertainty again.
I’d been uncertain before, dozens of times, but it usually didn’t bother me.
I needed to get to the bottom of this. With each step, I mentally listed the pros and cons of my time with Oscar.
Pros were easy . . . a hot, handsome guy had asked me . . . me back to his room. Oscar was at the top of his sexy game and could’ve had almost any woman in that casino, but he’d chosen me. That was a new scenario and it had made me feel exceptional. His room had been amazing, the penthouse suite in one of the most expensive hotels in all of Europe, no less.
Never in my life could I have expected to witness that kind of opulence firsthand. Another pro had been the sex. It was incredible. My orgasms were off the planet. Without a doubt, I’d enjoyed him plunging into me from behind.
And then it hit me. Was it because he’d taken me from behind? Was that it ?
When William and I had first had sex, we’d been together for nearly four months. We were both virgins and had no idea what we were doing. My mind filled with visions of those clumsy moments. My chest squeezed. It was me who had been driving the passion. I’d been the one who wanted sex, not him. I’d been the one who’d started the kissing and used my hand to coax his cock to attention. He wasn’t like Luca or Oscar whose erections had grown without my touch.
That first time with William had been the one and only time we’d faced each other as we’d climaxed. He’d been on top of me in the standard missionary position, and although it had been nearly dark, I could vividly recall William’s face when he came. His expression had been a mixture of pain and sadness. Never again did I look into his eyes when we’d had sex. It had always been in the dark and always with him behind me.
Why had I never found that odd?
As I stepped from a tunnel into the open, I vowed that never again would I have sex without seeing the man’s face. I wanted to see that desire . . . that passion . . . that moment when the world evaporated, and the only thing left was us. I wanted to see if he was enjoying it.
In addition, my conclusion confirmed that most of all, I still wanted to have sex. Casual sex. Fun sex. Fucking horny, multiple-orgasm, mind-blowing sex. What did that make me? A floozy? A whore? A slut?
The answers were all a resounding no.
I was an independent woman. My body was mine to do what I wanted with. And if the orgasms I’d experienced on this trip were anything to go by, then I wanted sex a hell of a lot more often.
The riddle was solved, and the spring reappeared in my step. A huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders .
Daisy was back. The new Daisy. The one who planned on finishing her last six months in Europe with a bang. Lots of hot, steamy bangs.
When I stepped off the pathway at the end of the trail, I spied Roman leaning against the side of the bus. His foot rested on the rim of the tire, his eyes lowered to the dirt, and he appeared deep in concentration. My group had already climbed on board, and through the windows I saw them standing in the aisle.
I strolled toward him. “Hey.”
He blinked at me as if surprised that I’d returned. “ Ciao , how was your walk?”
“Great.”
His eyebrows bounced upward. “You seem contento .”
“Yep. Just needed to clear my head.” I dragged my sneaker through the gravel, marking a line between us. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a little off.”
“A little?” He eyed me.
“Okay, a lot. I just had some stuff I needed to work through.”
“You know you can always talk to me.” The molten pools of his eyes softened.
“Thanks, but?—”
“No buts, Red. You can talk to me about anything.”
“Okay.”
“Especially if it involves sex.”
“Ha. Very funny.”
He gave me a solemn look. “I mean it.”
“I’m sure you do.” To avoid his retort, I launched myself up the stairs and proceeded down the aisle, counting everyone. All tourists accounted for, I returned to the front.
“We’re all set. Let’s get moving.”
The trip to Salzburg was only thirty minutes, and with much to inform the passengers, I grabbed the microphone again and knelt on my chair to face them.
“Did you all enjoy Liechtensteinklamm?”
Most of the tourists confirmed they did. Samson was one of the ones who didn’t share their joy. Some people were impossible to please. Then again, being a New Zealander, he’d probably seen a thousand waterfalls. Maybe that was where I could go after Europe—New Zealand. The scenery was reported to be spectacular. But could I be happy with its limited history?
Shoving that question aside, I continued talking about the town of Salzburg. “Who can tell me one of Salzburg’s claims to fame?”
Sunny put up her hand. “ The Sound of Music was filmed there.”
“Correct. Anyone else?”
After a moment of pause, in which nobody responded, I said, “The eighteenth-century composer Wolfgang Mozart was born there.” Several passengers nodded. “Salzburg's Old Town was listed as aUNESCO World Heritage Sitein 1997 and is renowned for itsbaroque architecture.”
Salzburg was one of my favorite cities on this tour, not only because it was yet to be overrun with tourists, but also because our accommodation was one of the most unique in Europe.
“Seven years ago, Vacation Dreamz purchased Thorsteinn Castle. The Romanesque castle dates back to the eleventh century and was originally built to protect the Archbishop of Salzburg from invaders. But over the centuries, it’s been nearly destroyed by invaders four times. Those interested in architecture should look out for both Gothic and Renaissance structures. You’re in for a real treat.” I paused for effect. “This wonderful, fortified castle will be your accommodation for tonight. ”
Although several passengers visibly expressed their excitement, nothing could really prepare them for what they were about to see. Thorsteinn Castle was truly impressive. Each time I visited, I discovered another facet that I hadn’t seen before.
“For another treat, you’re all invited to a royal banquet. But . . .” I held up a finger for emphasis, “. . . only if you’re wearing a costume. There’s a huge selection of period clothing to choose from and the staff will help you select your outfits. You’ll have a few hours to explore the castle and dress up. So, I’ll see you all in the great hall at nine o’clock.”
I turned, hooked up the microphone and slipped into my chair. The engine noise changed as the bus began its slow and steady climb up the hill. Thorsteinn Castle sat atop an enormous limestone edifice, offering 360-degree views of the surrounding terrain. As we twisted around one hairpin turn after another, the scenery alternated from snow-capped Austrian Alps to the Salzach River and rolling green plains.
Each spectacular vista took my breath away.
Salzburg was pretty whether it was covered in snow during winter or boasting multi-colored trees that lined the hillsides, like now. The city itself was bursting with history. People had inhabited Salzburg since the fifth century, and I often had to pinch myself to confirm I was actually there. The oldest buildings in the country where I grew up were only about two hundred and thirty years old.
The clock counting down the days until I was booted out of Europe boomed in my head.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
As Roman handled the bus around one of the tight turns, I studied him. His brows were drilled tightly together, his lips pursed. The picture of concentration. And so he should be. . . one wrong move would hurtle thirty-two people over a two-hundred-foot cliff to certain death .
He’d surprised me with his competence.
When I’d first met him, I’d written him off as a womanizer who was good for absolutely nothing. I’d been wrong about the good-for-nothing bit. He was still a womanizer, though; he flirted with our female guests as much as they flirted with him. Hmmm , which of the ten single women on the tour had he had sex with?
Claudette maybe. Or Sunny. Both of those women were beautiful on the inside and out. And I’d seen Roman flirting with them on several occasions. Hell, he could’ve had sex with all of them, for all I knew.
I wanted to slap myself. Roman’s sex life was none of my business.
Then again . . . he was always digging into mine.
Yeah, why should he be allowed discretion when he gave me none?
Roman dropped the bus into a lower gear, ready to challenge the final steep incline, and the passengers hushed like they were all holding their breath.
If Zali was in my shoes, she’d show Roman who was boss at his twenty questions game. It was time I channeled my inner Zali.
Roman crunched a gear as if somehow warning me not to go there. He was right. Now was not the time. I’d start my digging later when Roman was less occupied. He had no idea what was coming.
Eighteen minutes after we started the upward trek, Roman halted the bus before two giant wooden doors studded with enormous, forged iron bolts. Our wait wasn’t long, and with a deep metallic crunch, the gates gradually folded inward. The view beyond the entrance was like something out of a fairy tale.
The front fa?ade of the castle boasted matching corner towers topped with red cones and billowing flags. Beyond that was Untersberg, the snow-capped Alpine peak, barely nine miles away.
Roman drove over the drawbridge covering the ancient moat, and when the timber rattled beneath us, the click of cameras behind me confirmed our guests were enjoying the scenery. We entered the fortified castle grounds via an enormous arched gateway and arrived at a central courtyard boasting a couple of giant cannons and piles of armaments to go with them.
Roman pulled the bus to a stop and I turned to him. “The castle staff look after our guests for a while, including their luggage, so we get the afternoon off.”
“ Fantastico . Some of those giant suitcases are killing me.”
“I’m sure they are. I have no idea what they put in those things.”
“Dead bodies, I think.” He chuckled. “Will I see you at the banquet?”
I hadn’t attended the dinner in nine months. The idea of dressing up had become tedious. Not now, though—not with that ticking clock pestering me. Dressing in a costume and doing my hair was suddenly very appealing. “Yes, of course.” I flashed an expression that implied his question was silly. “Don’t forget to sort out your costume with Nina on level two.”
I stepped off the bus and Nina and Katrin came rushing out of one of the castle’s wooden doors, welcoming us with open arms. I accepted a big hug from each of them and while we made small talk, the passengers climbed down into the gravel courtyard.
Mike and the American boys did exactly as most of my male tourists did—they went straight to the cannons and began lifting the cast-iron balls over their heads as if they were gym weights.
The seventeenth-century iron-cast cannonballs weighed only nine pounds, which was relatively light in comparison to most ancient armaments. But, given the arduous trek and the logistics of lugging such heavy equipment up to the castle, their weapon choice during those ancient times made perfect sense.
Nina was a mother hen, fussing over each guest as they claimed their baggage and prepared to go inside the castle. Günter, the only German working at the castle, climbed into the luggage hold to push out the cases, and to my surprise, Roman crawled in to help him. Then again, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Roman was Mr. Perfect.
If ever I fell in love again, I hoped it would be with a gentleman as considerate and caring as Roman.
Jesus!
W here did that come from?