Chapter 21
SOFIA
With my legal problems over, the following day, as Jude and the band rehearsed at the arena, I celebrated with a few hours in our hotel’s spa.
I got a massage, a facial, and a mud cleanse before I ended up in the stunning, heated pool built into the foundations of the grand establishment.
Bijou but breathtaking, the indoor plunge pool featured recessed soft glow lamps underwater, its jeweled blue-and-white tiles reflecting the chandelier lights.
Jude joined me after a brutal three-hour practice session.
‘You found heaven, then?’ he asked, stepping through the curving stone archways towards me.
‘It’s magnificent down here, Jude,’ I murmured, gesturing toward the water.
The intimate retreat felt a million miles away from the bustling Paris streets above us.
‘The spa staff explained the entire offering to me before my treatment,’ I said, pointing to a printed brochure from the French wellness brand Omnisens.
‘They offer a naturopathic wellness menu which ranges from Japanese Kobido facials and lemon-meringue-pie-scented massages to light-therapy masks and anti-aging rituals.’
‘A lemon meringue pie?’ Jude huffed, his emerald eyes dancing as they traced my face. ‘Do it, you’ll smell delicious all day, and I’ll just want to take a bite.’
His eyes raked me with heat, and I ducked my head, averting my eyes from his.
I sensed his gaze locked onto me as the quiet yearning between us thickened.
I changed the subject as I stepped closer to the edge of the tiled pool.
‘You should get a massage. They have two rooms that can be combined for couples’ treatments, a sauna, and a stylish fitness room in the hotel’s lower levels. You’ll thank yourself for it.
‘You’re not wrong, woman, my shoulders are stiff as timber,’ he gritted out, rubbing a hand over the tight muscles at the back of his neck. ‘Next time I have three hours to kill, I’ll book one in.’
With that, Jude slipped away into the change room and returned wearing nothing but his charcoal swim shorts.
The sudden sight of him stripped down to bare skin almost caused my breath to hitch in my throat.
I’d seen him naked before, but I still wasn’t used to his beauty.
His broad shoulders sloped into a chest defined by hard, ripped muscle ridges, the ink of his tattoos twisting down the length of his arms.
A silver chain, his Aquila del Bonelli pendant, and rings gleamed in the light.
His low hips and lean waist revealed an athletic power born of years of disciplined exercise and training.
I forced my eyes away from him to keep from gaping like a starstruck teenager.
Even more concerning to me were the growing feelings I had for him.
Did he think of me as much as I was thinking of him?
Then I chided myself, feeling a hot flush creep up my neck.
Stop being so silly, Sofia, I thought, sinking a little deeper into the water.
He dove in and swam in masterful strokes, cutting through the water.
His broad shoulders worked with a rhythmic power that scarcely left a ripple behind him, his tanned skin glistening under the indoor lights.
I leaned on the tile wall, mesmerized by his athleticism.
When he finally reached my end, he broke the surface, shaking his wet hair back and wiping droplets from his eyes with his forearm.
He gripped the edge of the rim right next to my hip, his chest heaving as he looked up at me.
‘You move like a fish born in the ocean,’ I said, a smile tugging at my lips. ‘Where did you learn to swim like that?’
Jude’s white teeth flashed from between his stubble.
‘Babe, it’s inbred in all Australian parents to turn us into fish by age ten. It’s a national law or something.’
He hauled his sinewed physique out of the water in one fluid motion, sitting on the edge with his calves dangling in the pool.
‘My mum threw me into surf lessons as a Little Nipper down at Bilgola Beach before I could even ride a bike. By twelve, I’d joined the Ripper classes, dodging six-foot breaks and learning how to read rips. If you can’t handle the breakers back home, the ocean just swallows you whole.’
We swam together toward the shallow end and transitioned into the elevated jacuzzi.
Sitting above the warm, pulsing jets, we let the bubbling water swirl around our waists, relaxing into the heat.
‘Well, the Nipper training paid off,’ I teased, nudging his shoulder with mine. ‘You’re now a shark.’
‘A very tired one,’ he gritted, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned his head back on the stone ledge. ‘The temperature in this tub is hitting the spot, though.’
Steam rose between us as I tried my best to ignore my desire for him.
Glancing at the dark hair dusting his chest and the muscles of his thighs beneath the water made my pulse race.
I took a slow, grounding breath, pulling back the reins on my racing thoughts.
Behave, Sofia, I told myself.
I had to be content with the solid, beautiful friendship we were building day by day, rather than wishing for a fire that might burn us both.
That night, when we returned to the hotel after Six Sinners’ latest show, Jude’s exhaustion was evident.
From the way he dragged his boots across the parquet floor of our suite to how his shoulders slouched under his jacket.
When I spotted his eyes shadowed with deep fatigue, my heart clenched for him.
While he went into his bedroom to shed his stage gear, I called room service.
I requested a thick chicken club sandwich, a fresh green salad with vinaigrette, and a mug of rich, steaming hot chocolate.
He emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, his beard still damp from the shower, hair slicked back.
He wore nothing but a pair of grey cotton sweatpants, continuing to torture me without being aware of it.
He slowed his roll when he spotted the tray resting on the mahogany table by the window.
‘You did this? Ordered in?’ he muttered, a soft, grateful expression breaking through the tired lines of his face. ‘I was just going to crash with my stomach running on empty.’
‘Eat,’ I said, sitting on the opposite end of the velvet sofa as he dropped onto the cushions. ‘You can’t sleep or rest well if you’re hungry.’
‘Woman, thou art blessed,’ he growled as he surged forward and grabbed the platter.
‘How about you?’ he asked.
‘I had dinner while you guys were doing your vocal warm-ups,’ I told him with a smile. ‘I’m good, go for it.’
He inhaled the meal while seated on the couch, making soft grunts of appreciation as I sipped the hotel’s courtesy late-night glass of port and listened to him.
As he ate, Jude shared about the night’s show, explaining how the arena’s acoustics shifted once the humidity rose from the crowd.
As the clock edged past two in the morning, his sentences became shorter.
His eyelids drooped mid-word until his head slumped back into the velvet cushions, fast asleep with his fingers still resting around the empty mug.
I sat in the quiet for a long moment, eyes on the steady rise and fall of his chest.
I leaned forward, sliding the ceramic cup away from his hand, placing it on the table.
With care, I placed my palm on his shoulder.
‘Jude,’ I whispered, shaking him. ‘Wake up, big guy. You need to get into an actual bed.’
He groaned, his eyes flitting open with a dazed, uncomprehending drowsiness.
He allowed me to guide him to his feet, leaning into me as I led him across the dim foyer and into his bedroom.
When he hit the mattress, he reached up, his calloused thumb catching the edge of my jawline and smoothing over my cheek with lingering tenderness.
It sent an electric jolt straight through me.
‘Thank you, Sofia,’ he murmured before his eyes closed. ‘You’re incredible.’
‘Don’t I know it.’
JUDE
Every show on this run left me jacked up on post-gig adrenaline, but the real payoff was knowing Sofia was waiting in the wings.
She was sliding past my guards fast, bypassing every defense I ever had.
One night after our latest gig, I stood by the loading dock, eyes on her as she chatted with our lighting director.
Her melodic laugh cut right through the post-show buzz.
She had this effortless energy that commanded respect from our forty hardened roadies and my bandmates.
I couldn’t keep my eyes off her; heck, she kept stealing my breath.
Bishop and Reign sidled up next to me, their eyes following my gaze.
‘Sofia’s amazing, man,’ Bishop said, bumping my shoulder with his. ‘She gets along with everyone. Even Nari likes her, and you know how little patience Nari has for fools.’
Reign nodded, crossing his arms. ‘Yeah, your wife is top-tier. You scored well, Jude.’
Mason joined the huddle, his brow furrowed as he stared at her.
‘She’s familiar, though. Nari loves Italian soap operas, and she swears Sofia resembles one of the stars. We were debating it last night, but we can’t find any of the clips online. Must be older shows.’
I arched a brow, wanting to ask more, but the thought evaporated the moment Sofia turned and walked over to us.
She slid her arms around my neck, and I leaned down to kiss her temple, the delicious glide of her skin and the scent of her perfume snatching every remaining thought from my mind.
I missed her the second our schedules split, and spent my entire set waiting for the house lights to rise so I could get to her.
While forever with Sofia was still out with the jury, my growing respect and admiration for her ratcheted up, as did my attraction.
Perhaps it was time to push the boundaries and see what came of it.
We wrapped up in France and made our way to Italy.
Rome hit us with Mediterranean heat, the air carrying notes of sun-baked pine and warm stone.
We were staying at the Soho Rome Hotel, and with two days before our first show, Sofia and I kicked off with a leisurely late breakfast.
One of espresso and maritozzo, a soft Roman bun split and filled with whipped cream, pure indulgence and a local favorite.
We sat on the terrace where I poured and slid a coffee her way.
I leaned back with my cup in my hand, my eyes locked onto hers.
‘How are you holding up, babe? How does it feel being back home?’
Sofia set her cup down, taking a quiet breath.
‘I’m doing OK,’ she murmured, offering me a genuine smile.
‘Honestly, I was terrified at first, but after everything you said, I feel safe with you, Jude. The fear isn’t choking me anymore.
I wish I had enough time to take a train down south to Calabria to see Anya, but I don’t think there’s time for a side visit on this schedule.
Next time, perhaps. However, let’s please send her a ton of your merch and all your vinyl albums, turns out she’s a massive Six Sinners fan. ’
I grinned.
‘I’ll get Nari on it; just send me an address.’
The past twenty-four hours had been a revelation.
Back in the States, Sofia was soft-spoken, navigating the world in her second language. But the second we landed in Rome, she transformed.
It knocked the wind right out of me to hear her speak Italian.
The smooth, melodic cadence of her native tongue rolled off her lips as she chatted with the hotel staff, joked with the concierge, and thanked the servers with a breathtaking, natural grace that left me mesmerized.
It only added to her allure. I wanted to get all in with her.
‘We’ve two days before the first Italian concert. Want to spend the next two days with me?’
The instant joy on her face and her excited nod had me chuckling.
‘I can’t wait,’ she said, her fingers sliding across the table to find mine. ‘Let’s see the sights, Jude.’
We spent the next hours getting lost in the city’s labyrinthine streets.
We hit the winding streets of the Appian Way, and I guided her through the arches of the Colosseum; her eyes widened as she took in the history.
‘This is incredible,’ she whispered, leaning back against my shoulder in the ruins.
I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.
‘It really is,’ I muttered, glad to see her smile.
She twisted in the embrace, hands resting on my forearms. ‘Thank you for bringing me home,’ she murmured.
‘Anytime, babe,’ I said, squeezing her hand.
I admired her as she wandered away to stare at the ancient arena.
Sofia had a distinct, natural style, and since landing, she’d adapted to her core Italian sensibility, choosing classic looks that turned heads.
Today she wore crisp white linen slacks with an emerald silk top, her hair falling down her back in a glossy wave.
She moved with grace in elegant leather walking shoes, her makeup minimal, just a clean stroke of eyeliner and a swipe of clear gloss that made her lips soft.
I took note of the smallest details: tiny gold hoops, a delicate silver cross at her collarbone, and her neat, berry-polished nails.
Every time she pointed out a famous spot, exposing her nape, my heart lurched, tamping the urge to kiss her neck.
We drifted towards the fountains of Piazza Navona, dodging motor scooters.
We wandered inside the cool dome of the Pantheon.
As its amber sun lit beams cut through the oculus, dancing over her face, causing my breath to hitch.
Fuck, I was in a haze for her.
The initial distance I fought to maintain at home dissolved in the Roman heat.
I found myself reaching for her hand, never wanting to let go.
Later, as tourists jostled us on the narrow cobblestones, I slipped my arm around her waist, pulling her close, feeling like the luckiest man in the world.
She leaned into me, and the rightness of it hit me.
This blew past physical attraction.
We were wading fast into deep, undeniable, risk-it-all feelings territory.