Chapter Forty Ella
Chapter Forty
Ella
We’re finishing dessert when Tiero’s phone rings again. He ignores it, not even glancing at the screen.
Our lunch date has been wonderful. Conversation never falters. It flows as if we were long-lost friends.
Tiero holds my hand, stroking my palm with slow, deliberate movements, and we play footsie under the table where no one can see. I feel like a giddy teenager with a ridiculous crush.
The butterflies are there whenever I look at him. But the moment he touches me, they vanish like a rabbit in a magician’s hat, replaced by a surge of electricity racing through my veins. It burns everything else away, leaving only hunger in its wake.
It’s hard to believe he gave me an earth-shattering orgasm barely an hour ago. Already, I’m primed for round two.
What is this man doing to me? I’ve never felt so wanton in my life.
My foot finds his calf again, and I slide my toes beneath the fabric of his trousers, moving slowly up and down. Fire flashes in Tiero’s eyes. He is definitely on board with my line of thinking.
Just as I’m about to suggest we slip off to the bathroom together, something I’ve never done before, his phone rings again.
This time he looks at the screen.
And just like before in the car, his eyes turn to stone.
His posture stiffens, tension locking his shoulders.
He answers in Italian, his voice clipped and cold. I’ve never heard that tone before. The shift unsettles me.
He is a completely different man. Even the color of his eyes seems darker, harder.
I stare at him, stunned.
As if remembering I’m there, he glances at me briefly before rising from his seat and walking toward the back of the restaurant to continue the call out of earshot.
Can he just use any back room in any establishment he visits?
Once again, I find myself wondering who Gualtiero De Marco really is.
He returns a few minutes later, looking more like himself again.
“I’m sorry, princess, but I need to take care of a few things.”
“That’s okay. Can Fabio take me back to my hotel?”
His face remains unreadable, but something shifts in his energy. He doesn’t like that.
“Why don’t you stay in Catania? Marta can book you in for a pampering afternoon at the spa. And later tonight, I have a surprise for you.” He meets Santino’s gaze across the room and gives him a subtle nod, signaling it’s time to leave.
Wanting to lighten the mood, I flash him an exaggerated smile. “A surprise? Do tell. You have my full attention.”
He smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Nice try, princess. You’ll find out after your massage.” He kisses the tip of my nose.
A massage sounds heavenly. But I don’t want to sponge off Tiero. He’s already been generous, and I don’t want this to feel transactional. I know he can afford it. That’s not the point.
“No, thank you. It’s kind of you, but I already planned to explore Syracuse this afternoon. I just need to swing by the hotel to pick up the rental car. I’ll meet you back at your office when you’re done.”
He actually looks taken aback. I’m surprised too. I love a good massage. When was the last time I had one? I can’t even remember.
Disapproval settles over his features.
Too bad.
My mind is made up. I’m not turning into someone who lives off a vacation fling.
“You’ll waste too much time driving back and forth,” he says. “If you want to go to Syracuse, Alonso will take you. He can show you around and bring you back.”
It doesn’t sound like a suggestion.
I grimace. “I don’t mind the drive. And I don’t want to be an imposition.”
“You aren’t.” His jaw tightens. “I don’t like the idea of you driving around on your own.”
Why not? I’m an adult. Fully capable of taking care of myself.
Sure, I get lost sometimes because I’m a terrible navigator, but that’s half the fun. I’ve discovered some incredible places by taking the wrong turn.
“Thank you, Tiero,” I say carefully, “but I don’t want to spend the afternoon with your guard.”
He checks his watch. The impatience is subtle but unmistakable. He’s used to being obeyed.
“It makes no sense for you to drive all the way back to Taormina,” he says with a clipped sigh. “Take one of my cars. That’s the simplest solution.”
He rises and pulls my chair out for me.
Looks like that’s the end of the discussion.
We ride back to Tiero’s office in silence. He seems preoccupied. Whatever happened during that phone call, it wasn’t good.
When we arrive in the courtyard and the car comes to a stop, he doesn’t let me get out. Instead, he pulls me onto his lap, cups my face in his hands, and kisses me softly.
“Please let Fabio drive you to Syracuse in this car.”
It sounds like a question, but it isn’t.
“I would feel much better knowing you’re safe on the road. Italian drivers can be unpredictable,” he adds when I don’t answer immediately.
I’m not sure if that’s true or if he’s saying it to sway me. So far, Rhia and I have been the reckless ones. Not that I’m admitting that to him.
His eyes hold mine, earnest and intent. How do I refuse him when he looks at me like that?
I brush my fingers along his jaw, and he leans into my touch.
I kiss him and murmur against his lips, “Okay. If it makes you happy.”
Relief softens his expression. It’s the first time he’s looked at ease in the past twenty minutes.
My heart melts.
If it’s that simple to improve his day, who am I to deny him?
“Fabio, take Ella to Syracuse and wherever else she’d like to go,” Tiero instructs. He kisses the tip of my nose, helps me off his lap, and with one last squeeze of my hand, steps out of the car.
To my surprise, Alonso slides into the front seat a moment later, and the car pulls away.
Hmm. Why is Alonso here?
Should I ask?
Maybe he has business in Syracuse. Maybe it just makes sense for him to ride along.
Surely he isn’t here to follow me around.
Or is he?
He is a security guard, after all.
I tap my fingers against my thigh, my thoughts spiraling. My brows knit together as I bite my lip, debating whether to say something.
I wish I had Rhia’s blunt confidence sometimes. Instead, I stay quiet and decide I’ll speak up if Alonso actually tries to shadow me.
I made it clear I didn’t want that, didn’t I?
The drive passes in silence. Not knowing makes me uneasy. To distract myself, I pull out my phone and Google Syracuse, refreshing my memory of what’s there.
It looks stunning.
Scrolling through photos steadies my nerves, and excitement slowly replaces the tension.
“Fabio, could you take me to the Neapolis Archaeological Park first?” I ask.
He nods and programs the destination into the navigation system. Half an hour later, we arrive.
“Will you wait here, or should I call you when I’m ready to move on?” I ask, sliding across the seat to get out. I wish I had my own car here. It would make this so much easier than coordinating everything with strangers.
“I’ll wait,” Fabio replies.
As I step out, Alonso does too.
And he looks ready to follow.
No. That won’t do.
Gathering my courage, I turn to him. “Alonso, it’s really not necessary for you to come with me. I’ll be fine on my own.”
For a second, he looks genuinely surprised.
“Actually, I haven’t been here since I was a child,” he says carefully. “I wouldn’t mind having a look around myself. I won’t disturb you. Once we reach the amphitheater, I’ll head in another direction.”
Argh. It’s hard to refuse that without sounding rude.
Even if I don’t like the idea of him hovering.
I nod and start walking.
When we reach the amphitheater, I sit on one of the ancient stone steps and let the atmosphere settle into me.
True to his word, Alonso drifts to the opposite side of the arena, studying the view before eventually disappearing from sight.
I release a quiet breath.
Even though he hadn’t looked my way, I’d felt watched.
I pull out my phone, snap a photo, and send it to Rhia.
Me: Wish you were here with me.
Her reply comes almost instantly.
Rhia: Damn. I really wanted to see Syracuse. Now I probably never will.
Me: You landed okay?
Rhia: Yep. In a taxi to the office. Send more pics so I can live vicariously while I work my butt off. Can’t believe I was in Sicily hours ago. Feels like another lifetime already.
Me: I know. I miss you.
Rhia: Ditto.
I continue on to the Greek theater, which once held twenty thousand people. I try to picture it filled with spectators in tunics and sandals, watching performances unfold below. The scale of it is staggering.
I run into Alonso again near the Altar of Heiron II.
“Ara di Ierone,” he says, gesturing along its length. “The Great Altar of Syracuse. Third century BC. Dedicated to Zeus.”
“It’s enormous,” I murmur.
“Over two hundred yards long.”
I trail my fingers lightly over the stone. “Why so big?”
“They held festivals here. Hundreds of bulls were sacrificed at a time.”
My stomach flips. I pull my hand back instinctively.
“That’s… awful.”
“It was common practice back then,” he says evenly.
I study him. “How do you know so much? Are you a history buff like Tiero?”
Maybe all Italians have a love for the history of their country.
He laughs, more relaxed than I’ve seen him yet. “My whole family is. I grew up hearing these stories.”
“Are you from a big family?”
“Yes. I’m one of five. Three sisters, one brother.”
“And where are you in the pecking order?”
“Right in the middle.”
“You’re lucky,” I say quietly. “It’s just me now. I have no siblings, and my parents passed away a few years ago.”
Silence settles between us as we follow the rocky path.
My parents visited Sicily before I was born. Did they walk here once? Did they stand where I’m standing now?
I suddenly wish I could ask them. For a moment, I feel their absence like a hollow space beside me, but I shake it off before it can pull me under.
I glance over at the man walking next to me with strong, confident strides, his eyes constantly scanning the perimeter.
“How come you’ve never been back here before now?” I ask. “You clearly love it.”
He hesitates. “I drive past all the time. I just never thought to stop.”
That makes sense. I rarely visit the historic sites around my home either.
When we return to the parking lot, Fabio is deep in conversation with another tall, burly man.
“Is it a prerequisite to be colossal and muscly to work for Tiero?” I ask lightly.
Alonso smirks but doesn’t answer.
As we approach, the man claps Fabio on the shoulder, climbs into another black SUV parked beside ours, and drives off.
Hmm. Why was there another one of Tiero’s cars here?
Suspicion pricks at the edge of my mind.
But it could be something perfectly ordinary. Maybe they were just sharing a break.
The answers are usually simple, not sinister.
“Where to next, Miss O’Neil?” Fabio asks.
“Please call me Ella. Miss O’Neil makes me feel like an old-school governess.”
He grins. “I can’t. The boss would have my balls if I got too friendly with you.”
I blink. “Surely using my first name isn’t being too friendly.”
“Signor De Marco would disagree.” His tone is easy, but there’s truth beneath it. “And I’d like to keep my job.”
I nod, a little surprised. Tiero doesn’t strike me as overly formal, but clearly there are rules.
“Where to, Miss O’Neil?” Fabio repeats.
“Ortigia Island, please. My guidebook says it’s mostly pedestrian. That should make sightseeing easy.”
“Would you like a tour guide?” Alonso asks.
“Thank you, but I’ll be fine.” I tap my bag lightly. “My Lonely Planet guide has never let me down.”
The thought of wandering narrow streets with Alonso hovering at my shoulder feels… strange. He seems perfectly pleasant, but spending hours with a man I barely know isn’t my idea of fun.
He opens the back door for me. “As you wish.”
But his expression remains stern.
He isn’t here to sightsee, is he?
He’s here to guard me. From what?
“Alonso,” I ask carefully, “are you guarding me? Am I in some kind of danger?”
“Of course not, Miss O’Neil,” he’s quick to reassure.
“Meaning I’m not in danger, or you’re not guarding me?”
He shifts in his seat, deliberating his response. The pause isn’t helping my nerves.
“Signor De Marco wants your stay to be comfortable and enjoyable.”
That isn’t an answer.
“So there’s no danger?” I press.
“No. No danger.” His voice is steady.
But a thin sheen of sweat has formed at his temple.
Something isn’t right.