Chapter 14
SOFIA
The rich aroma of coffee filled the kitchen at seven the next morning.
I stood at the marble island, shaping dough into balls, stuffing the centers with salsiccia and melted mozzarella, then sizzling them in a cast-iron skillet.
The pantry larder yielded everything I needed, and my respect for Nari’s shopping skills grew with every treasure I uncovered.
As I cooked, I tamped down my panic at seeing Jude for the first time since our lovemaking last night.
What we’d shared was savage, my body still jolting at the memory of it.
I never expected our connection to be a wildfire.
However, his post sex reticence twisted my insides, and now, embarrassed, insecure, and shy, I fought the urge to run.
I had nowhere to go.
I had to stay put and fake a brave face, so I channeled my nervous energy into prepping breakfast.
The thud of footsteps echoed on the floor, and Jude entered the room.
I braced and flicked an uneasy glance at him, my heart jolting at how handsome he was.
He had on a gray cotton tee that stretched tight across his broad shoulders.
A colored scarf hung around his neck, and he wore blue jeans and brown leather boots.
He was fresh out of the shower, his hair still wet, his cologne so damn evocative.
‘Morning,’ he drawled.
‘Hi,’ I replied, canting my eyes back to the spatula in my hand.
I sensed the heat of his gaze on me as he studied my face.
Unable to stop, I peeked up at him and found him narrowing his eyes at me with a touch of concern.
I bit my tongue, reminding myself to honor his request from last night.
We were not going to discuss the mistake.
‘We OK, Sofia?’
I took a deep inhale at his timbred growl, forcing my shoulders up, and shot him a smile. ‘Yes, we are.’
‘Good,’ he said, his posture relaxing a fraction. ‘I’m sorry about what I said, or the extent I let it go. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.’
‘OK,’ I whispered, regardless of the need pulsing through me.
What else could I say?
That I should not have allowed it to get that far?
Even if I wanted it so bad?
I kept my face neutral, hiding the pain lancing through my chest.
I questioned my own expectations for the tenth time, wanting to have it out with him.
Still, I refused to become clingy and risk our fragile situationship becoming even more awkward.
He pulled out a bar stool, his eyes inspecting the platters of food.
I handed him a plate and a cup of black coffee.
‘Thanks babe.’
He took a small pause, then went on.
‘You’ve been busy,’ he said, taking a bite of the cheesy pockets I made him for breakfast.
‘What is it?’ he mumbled, staring in awe at the food in his hand.
‘It’s panzerotti pugliesi, golden, deep-fried yeast dough stuffed with salsiccia Italian pork sausage and melted mozzarella.’
He chewed, a nod of genuine satisfaction breaking through his stoic expression.
‘This rocks, Sofia, but I want to make one thing clear. You don’t have to play the maid here. There’s no expectation that you’re going to cook for me every day. I survive on Nari’s platters, takeaway, and delivery apps most of the time.’
I wiped my hands on a kitchen towel, leaning on the counter.
‘I like cooking, Jude. Deal with it.’
Lifting his coffee mug, he locked his eyes with mine over the rim.
He studied my face with a quiet, intense scrutiny that made my heart rate spike, the blood rushing into my ears.
Emotion washed over me, a deep yearning for mornings like this for the rest of my life.
It felt dangerous, tangled in the presence of the man sitting across from me.
For three long seconds, neither of us looked away.
The silence between us thickened until the scorching heat of his gaze became too intense, and I sliced my eyes back to the polished marble counter.
‘Suit yourself,’ he muttered in a rougher rasp than usual as he set the mug down with a small clink.
He wiped his mouth with a serviette, washed his hands in the sink, and prowled towards the hallway.
He grabbed his car keys from the hook and paused to glance at me.
Our eyes clashed, and once more, I bit back a gasp at how much emotion coursed through me.
‘Later, babe. Enjoy your day off,’ he rasped, giving me a two-finger salute as he sauntered off, sexy as sin, as he left for work.
The front door closed, leaving me alone in his mansion.
It was a Friday.
I had the day off with The Sanctuary shut down for a long weekend, as it did every month, to give the social workers on staff a break.
I spent the morning cleaning, not because Jude asked or expected it, but because I wanted to.
Plus, I liked a clean home and enjoyed the exercise.
So I mopped the corridors, dusted the vaulted ceilings, and tidied the living area.
At one point, I came to the door of Jude’s primary bedroom.
It was his private space, and I was reluctant to touch it; however, my eye fell on a mound at the foot of his bed.
His hooded sweatshirt, the one he’d been wearing when we first met.
Before I could stop myself, I stepped into the bedroom and reached for it, sinking my face straight into the thick fabric.
It was redolent of his scent: rich musk, leather, spice, cedar, and his skin.
It was so evocative, I almost sank to my knees right there on his hardwood floor.
Biting my lip, I inched out of the room, unable to let it go.
I clutched the fleece to my chest, sneaking down the hall like a thief in the night.
Inside my guest room, I folded the black hoodie and tucked it deep under my pillow.
If I couldn’t sleep with him, at least I could go to sleep with his scent.
By midday, the Tennessee sun baked the backyard, prompting me to rummage around for the swimsuit and robe Maggie and I bought in Vermont.
With a smile, I slid into the crystal-blue waters of the in-ground pool.
After a good swim, I settled on an oversized watermelon-shaped float.
I lay on my back, staring up at the oak canopy, still awed by the sheer magnificence of my new surroundings.
Weeks earlier, I was dodging border patrol agents and a mafioso minder.
Now, I had a diamond ring the size of a small rock on my hand, a husband, and free rein in a mansion. One that resembled a spread in Home Beautiful magazine.
My thoughts wandered onto Jude.
Still shaken by our lovemaking last night, I felt like I was spinning out.
I needed to speak to someone.
I slipped back into the water and climbed out of the pool.
Tracking to my phone, I sat on an outdoor lounge and called my cousin Anya, desperate for her wisdom and perspective.
She picked up on the third ring.
It was 7 p.m. in Calabria, and she took my call without a second of hesitation.
‘Ciao, Sofia?’
I smiled at the joy in her voice.
‘I’m fine, how are you?’
We exchanged pleasantries for a minute before I plunged into my woes.
I confessed, my fingers twisting the silver eagle pendant at my nape.
‘Remember the guy who saved me at the airport? I’m losing my mind over him, Anya. I can’t get him out of my head. We made love last night, and it was the best I’ve ever had.’
‘Madonna!’ Anya gasped through the receiver. ‘Dettagli, per favore!’
I gave her the short version of our scorching experience.
‘Then he played it down like we both hadn’t had our minds blown, and told me never to speak of it,’ I continued.
‘Yet when we look at each other, I feel this deep connection. He’s generous and very protective, and all I want to do is care for him.
Under his brooding exterior, he’s the most genuine, real man I’ve ever met.
To say I’m hooked on him is an understatement. What do I do?’
‘Pazienza, sorella,’ Anya counseled. ‘Be patient with him and with yourself. Only time will tell if anything real grows between you two.’
‘Easy for you to say,’ I muttered.
‘So who is this mystery savior anyway?’ she asked, curiosity lacing her tone. ‘What does he do?’
‘His name’s Jude Valenti,’ I spilled. ‘He’s a musician, the co-lead of an Australian band called Six Sinners.’
Anya lost her mind, shrieking so loud into the speaker that I pulled the receiver three inches from my ear.
‘Santo cielo!’ she screamed. ‘Are you serious right now, Sofia?’
She launched into a breathless frenzy about their albums, raving about their raw lyrics, ripped vocals, and Jude’s gritty, distorted electric guitar riffs.
‘Cara, I never knew you were a major fan,’ I interrupted, chuckling at her breakdown. ‘I’ll let him know, and maybe he can send you some merchandise.’
‘Send merchandise?’ Anya squealed. ‘You’d better send me his entire discography on vinyl. You’re sleeping with a god, cugina! He’s a huge catch, so don’t rush, don’t spook him, reel him in slowly with your amazing personality.’
I wasn’t sure I could play games like that, or that Jude was a man you could manipulate, but I swallowed my doubts and tucked her advice away.
‘Thank you for the perspective, Anya,’ I said, smiling through my lingering uncertainty. ‘I’ve got to go before you pop a blood vessel.’
‘Ti voglio bene, Sofia! If you can snag me even just one of their signed vinyls, I’ll love you forever,’ she called out before I rang off.
Leaving me alone gazing up at the sky, none the wiser.
Later that evening, I sat buried in the plush sofa in the den, with a bowl of prawn and garlic pasta.
At the same time, my newest favorite soap opera, I Segreti Del Vigneto, blasted on the massive TV.
Following the dramatic plot twists on screen brought back a flood of memories from my time under the studio lights.
It reminded me of my old castmates, the tight-knit crew, and the chaotic, beautiful camaraderie I missed on the set.
However, I knew I would never go back to that world.
The intense pressure of being so exposed to the media, the relentless paparazzi, the dangerous reach of the mafia, and even a few terrifying stalker fans proved too much for me to handle.
I’d only pursued modeling and acting back then as a quick way to pay off my steep university fees.
Instead, I became a household name across Italy for five years.
Now, I was content to sit back and let other actors make me laugh.