Chapter 3 #2
Her single woof brought laughter. “Okay, girl. Let’s get going.” Hopping off the bed, I grabbed her leash just in case, although she never defied me by running off. With Golden Angel by my side, Tomaso barely offered a look as we walked by. At least he’d soon be off for the evening.
Not that I’d be going anywhere. The evening would be as usual, dinner followed by spending time in my room by myself.
My own personal prison.
The moment I stepped outside, a strange sense of being watched filtered through me.
I adored the vineyards and other grounds, including the landscaped areas featuring so many flowers and gorgeous shrubs.
The exterior was my mother’s pet project, her adoration of the outdoors complete with fountains creating a maze of spectacular scenery.
If you’d never run the maze before or had never glanced at the design, you could get lost for hours. That’s one reason I adored the area so much. I’d purposely gotten lost just to stay away from my father over the years.
The lovely setting was not only beautiful with deep evergreen shrubs and vibrant flowering foliage in the summer with the ocean as a backdrop, but was also the most peaceful on the estate. Golden and I moved through the maze in minutes, her tail wagging the entire time.
I knew almost every inch of the grounds, my exploration providing me with both endless peace and inspiration for my art. Plus Golden Angel loved the time alone, sniffing to her heart’s content. When the days were warmer, I’d sneak off to the beach where we’d both play in the surf.
“Look what I have for you, baby!” I pulled a tennis ball from my pocket and immediately, her eyes lit up. Balls were her favorite toys and we could play for hours.
I tossed the ball, laughing as she raced to catch it in midair. My laughter was easier than before, her antics always putting me in a better mood.
We kept walking as I tossed the ball every few feet, enjoying the various scents as we headed toward the vineyards.
Secretly, they were my absolute favorite location, but I could tell there were a few men working in the vines.
Weeding was extensive, requiring additional seasonal help just like in the fall when it came time to pick the crops.
I stayed on the outskirts, noticing more than the usual full-time employees moving through the workers, likely instructing them what to do.
Golden Angel brushed against the side of my leg, reminding me she was there.
She was always there and had been since sleeping pills, antidepressants, hypnotherapy, and eight months of sessions with a psychiatrist specializing in traumas hadn’t managed to budge the countless nightmares.
“Don’t worry, baby. I won’t forget about you.” I snagged her ball, tossing it again only with a little more oomph than before. She took off running, her tail swishing back and forth. After shielding my eyes from the sun, I glanced at the sky, studying the beautiful formation of clouds.
It was a gorgeous day, the blue sky shimmering from the sun’s lower direction.
Woof!
Golden Angel’s sharp bark drew my attention and I was surprised she hadn’t returned with the ball in her mouth. Ugh. She usually never left my side for more than a couple of minutes at a time. I moved quickly, worried something might be wrong.
When I rounded a corner where a tree line met a row of grapes, I was shocked into silence while stopping in my tracks.
A man had just thrown the ball for my golden and she’d returned with joy in her eyes, her tail wagging even more. I stood where I was as the stranger, obviously a worker in the fields bent down, whispering something I could hear while scratching her behind the ear.
The little growls of happiness she made were usually reserved for me. She certainly wasn’t a fan of my father or almost any other male. To see the way she was responding to a stranger kept my interest.
As soon as he stood, he threw the ball again, much harder and farther than I could do. That allowed me time to see if I recognized Golden’s new best friend.
The stranger was completely unlike every other man I was used to seeing.
While Italy had its share of gorgeous people, those employed by my father were rough around the edges.
They were men not hired for their beauty or brains but for their brawn, many covered in scars from the violence filling their lives.
This man was entirely different. He’d stripped off his shirt, exposing broad shoulders and a barrel chest with insanely perfect six-pack abs so carved I wanted nothing more than to run my finger across the indentations.
He was tall, dark, and devastating.
Wow, I was breathless.
I certainly wasn’t immune to being attracted to someone, but the boys in my school had yet to fill out.
The stranger was easily six and a half feet tall, his muscles toned in ways I didn’t think possible.
His skin was bronzed, kissed by the sun and exertion, his long, muscular legs filling the ill-fitting cargo pants he was wearing.
On his chest was a huge tattoo of a wolf with ice blue eyes, the ink so intricate that it was almost impossible to draw my attention from the gorgeous design.
On his shoulder was something else, a colorful star with several points.
I longed to trace the designs as they added to the dangerous aura he was manifesting.
With my heart racing, I lifted my gaze to his face just as he scrubbed his hand across his jaw. My God. Every inch of him was gorgeous, his thick dark hair framing a chiseled face. I was breathless, daring to take yet another look at the full length of his body.
Woof. Woof.
Golden Angel broke the hypnotic spell, returning to the man and jumping. Seeing her paw placed on his chest, I finally groaned and rushed forward. “Golden. Spenta.” Off.
The little brat turned her head in my direction, wagging her tail. She’d never been this disobedient before. However, she was a girl dog.
With the sound of my voice carrying a distance, the stranger lifted his head while I walked closer, finally catching sight of his eyes. They were the color of sapphires glistening in the sun.
So luminous I was in awe.
My breathing remained labored, my pulse skyrocketing even though I chastised myself for being so silly. He stood where he was, stroking my dog as if this was completely natural.
A slow smirk spread across his face and he obviously had never worked with my father before or he wouldn’t dare allow his gaze to linger. I’d seen men beaten for less.
I was drawn to him in a way I couldn’t explain, not only because he was without a doubt the most handsome man I’d seen, but also because there was a magnetic draw to him that had to be chemically induced.
Sheer electricity rocketed throughout my body, keeping my heart thudding and my nipples aching.
When I was only a couple of feet away, I reached for Golden. “Chi sei?”
He studied me intently before shaking his head. He didn’t understand Italian.
So I repeated myself in English. “Who are you?”
I could see the light shift in his eyes. “No one special.”
Holy shit. His voice was deep and husky, the sensual sound leaving a lingering trail. “Everyone is special in their own way.”
His laugh was as sultry as it was unexpected. “Not today. Not here.”
“Why?” Because the power he exuded couldn’t be hidden by sweat and dirt.
Golden refused to leave his side, pressing her head against his leg. His hand was huge, his fingers also muscular, but he was very gentle in his actions. “Because that’s the way life can be. Who are you?”
“Like you, I’m also no one special.” I was still breathless, incapable of putting a coherent sentence together.
“You’re very special, malen’kiy angel.”
Angel I understood. I also realized he was Russian. “What did you call me?”
“Little angel. A very beautiful angel.”
No man ever dared talk to me that way. I was nervous, but not fearful of him. I was too attracted to feel anything but a strange sense of desire. “What’s your name?”
A sudden shrill whistle interrupted us, my father’s head of operations appearing from deep within the vines. “What is the meaning of this?” Marco Pisano was nothing but a brutal overlord, a man I couldn’t stand.
Given he’d used English, so did I in return. “Nothing, Marco. Golden just ran up to this very nice worker. Nothing more.”
“Get back to work,” Marco snarled, glaring at the handsome man. While Marco didn’t like anyone, his hatred of the attractive stranger seemed personal.
The stranger offered a slight smile before obeying Marco’s harsh words, nodding before turning away.
“He was just taking a break, Marco.”
Marco was turned away from me and with exaggerated actions, he slapped his hands on his hips, dropping his head as if I was nothing but an errant fly on his shoulder. When he shifted toward me, the anger was evident in his eyes.
I’d once been frightened of the man but not any longer. He was cruel and heartless. The horrors I’d seen while snooping disgusted me. I could tell my defiance shocked him as well.
“Questo maiale è stato assunto per svolgere un lavoro.”
This pig was hired to do a job.
“In English, Marco. He doesn’t understand Italian.” For once in my life, I allowed my fury to be recognized. Also, my position in the family. The bastard was required to respect me.
Marco acted as if he would challenge me and in doing so, I sensed tension within the stranger. His eyes were pinned on my father’s man, his chest rising and falling as every muscle tensed.
This wasn’t good. Any challenge made against Marco would result in the employee being fired.
Or worse.
My father’s reputation and that of his upper ranking staff were widely known across all of Italy, not just in Sicily where we lived.
Every seasonal worker had a story, either poverty or being unemployable based on imprisonment or immigration.
Whatever the stranger’s story, it was obvious he needed money.
My interference would only cause him trouble.
I offered a slight smile to the handsome man, nodding in an unspoken effort for him to take a step away. While his eyes flashed in recognition, he didn’t seem inclined to follow my suggestion.
“Come here, Golden.” Reaching for her, I continued glaring at Marco. Yes, he would likely tell my father I’d interfered with business, but he knew to be careful. Anyone who spoke inappropriately, touched or threatened Demarco Marichetti’s daughter would face his brutal wrath.
And I wasn’t immune to being highly dramatic when necessary. Marco was well aware.
Marco seemed to take the hint, pointing to another line of grapes.
With a heavy sigh, I watched the stranger walk away, noticing several scars on his back as well as another tattoo covering several inches.
The face of the devil.
Tingling sensations wrapped every inch of my body, tiny, heated vibrations that I hoped would linger long into the night.
My fur baby wasn’t interested in listening to Marco’s rules, barking her response. When Marco snarled and dare lift a hand as if he was going to strike Golden, the stranger turned and dashed back, snapping his fingers around Marco’s wrist, bending it back until Marco howled.
The stranger’s teeth were gritted, his chiseled jaw clenched in rage. Even the thick cords on both sides of his neck were pronounced, an indication he was about to snap. Another incident I couldn’t allow to happen.
I did the unthinkable. I took a step closer, placing my hand on the stranger’s chest.
The reaction was instantaneous, my fingers like conduits of current, white-hot heat electrifying every inch of skin, every molecule. How could I have such a strong connection to a man when I didn’t know his name?
After taking a deep breath, the stranger slowly lowered his head, his eyes searching mine. He could feel the chemistry as well, his breathing even more labored than before.
Woof. Woof. Woof.
Golden Angel was beside herself, jumping on the stranger as if trying to protect him. I’d never seen her this way, although she wasn’t fond of Marco either. “Enough,” I told her, dragging her back and attaching the leash.
The moment was surreal.
“Bud’te ostorozhny. On opasen.” My whisper was harsh, hopefully hidden by Marco’s intense sounds of agony.
The look of surprise on the man’s face brought a smile that I tried to hide.
My father didn’t control every aspect of my life, including what courses I took at school.
I’d decided to take both French and Russian, although I’d only had a few semesters of the Slavic language and hoped I didn’t butcher the few words in trying to tell him to be careful, Marco was dangerous.
He nodded once and let go of Marco’s hand, making a grand gesture of doing so.
Marco continued howling while crouching over and rubbing his wrist.
Taking purposeful steps, I backed away, fearful of what would happen.
Marco threw me another hateful look, but I sensed he knew better than to take out his aggressions while I was present.
The situation was one I wouldn’t win so I turned in the opposite direction, briskly walking away. My heart was heavy, every muscle tense. When I was certain I was out of the line of sight, I moved behind a huge olive tree and peered around the side.
Seeing the barrel of Marco’s weapon placed under the stranger’s chin made me furious, so angry I couldn’t breathe and I almost rushed back, but something told me if I did, the handsome stranger would suffer even worse consequences.
I remained where I was, stroking Golden until Marco’s anger seemed to subside, the weapon put back in a hidden location.
Finally able to focus without spots swirling in front of my eyes, I leaned against the tree, still tingling all over. “Who is he, baby?” Whoever he was, the man was considered a prisoner, not a worker.
I was determined to discover the story.
And to see him again.
Maybe I was merely falling into a fantasy, but something told me the sexy, dark, and dangerous stranger was my destiny.