Claire
Chapter Seven
As soon as I opened the door, there he was.
Leaning against the stucco wall that separated my villa from the next, Arik looked slightly more relaxed and put together than when we parted earlier.
His black suit was replaced by a crisp black button-down shirt, black buttons glistening in the sunlight as the fabric stretched across his muscular frame.
He had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, displaying his lean, muscular forearms coiled with veins like snakes hunting prey.
At the base of his torso, the shirt was neatly tucked into black slacks, and a thin black leather belt fastened.
Executive goth.
He certainly had a thing for wearing black; there was no question about it. He smiled widely; his eyes hidden behind black aviator sunglasses.
“Here. You’ll be needing this,” he said with a laugh as he plopped a large, floppy black sunhat upon my head and chuckled.
I looked down at my white cotton dress, the same one I had worn to the office just a few days ago—successfully managing to wash, dry, and pack it before leaving for this trip.
“Black and white…so chic. It’s giving Paris, not Calabria,” I joked as I emerged onto the stone path and closed the villa door behind me.
“It is giving. That’s all that matters, love.” Arik smiled as he firmly grabbed my hand and led me through the garden courtyard toward the lobby.
I held in my breath, my eyes growing wide.
This man just called me love. It wasn’t that he said it; it was how he’d said it.
His “love” was deep and slow, standing out from among the other meaningless words.
Normally, when someone called me love—typically drunk guys in bars during my college days—it sounded like gravel coming up their throats, laced with false promises and bullshit.
But Arik…his “love” sounded smooth.
The echo of his words swam around my head, making my cheeks red and my heart palpitate.
I walked beside him in silence, enjoying the feeling of his soft hand against mine as his fingers intertwined with my own.
The hotel was bustling with tourists, staff, and locals spending their Saturday enjoying the grounds, the never-ending supply of wine, and whatever delicious lunch special wafted through the lobby.
I smelled garlic and smoky cheese, maybe provolone, beckoning to me, making my stomach growl.
As if he were reading my mind, Arik’s accent-laced voice interrupted my thoughts. “Now, I hope you are hungry. I imagine you are after smelling whatever is coming out of the restaurant today. I certainly am.”
He shot a smile at me as he led me through the front doors, toward an awaiting blacked-out, oversized SUV. “I made reservations for us at one of my favorite eateries—aside from the restaurant here in the hotel, of course.”
“Wait,” I interrupted him, my body coming to a halt. “This is your car? You have a driver?” I questioned. “I thought you were joking.”
The last thing I needed was to get caught up with an Italian mobster, and this SUV reeked of mobster.
Arik tilted his head to the side and replied slowly, his voice tinged with confusion. “Yes, this is my vehicle…and that is my driver.”
He nodded toward the man who had exited the driver’s seat and was now patiently waiting for the SUV’s trunk to open, arms crossed. The tall, muscled, middle-aged man subtly smiled and bowed his head toward me. He looked more like a club bouncer than a driver.
I put my hands on my hips as my eyebrows raised. “What is it you said you do again?” I questioned him sternly.
Arik stepped closer as he dropped his head toward me. “I am in the wine business, just like you. Nothing illegal…I promise. I’m simply good at my job.”
I momentarily processed his response before scanning my surroundings and eyeing up the driver from head to toe.
I wasn’t getting Taken vibes.
I think if he wanted to do something malicious, he could have easily done it already.
The course gravel rolled under my chunky-heeled sandals as Arik opened the door for me and hoisted me into the seat, his hand gently placed on my lower back as I held onto the grab handles and pulled myself up.
As he closed the door, he smiled before letting out a playful, “Watch your fingers and toes!”
My eyes immediately rolled as he reminded me of my mother calling to my sister and me in the backseat of our station wagon back in the nineties.
Moments later, he was next to me once again. I watched him as he settled into his seat, buckled his seatbelt, and removed his sunglasses before looping them between the buttons of his shirt. He was so fucking gorgeous, but not in the usual way.
There was nothing predictable about his appeal, something dark and magnetic lingering beneath the surface, making it impossible to look away.
Gorgeous in a villainous, ruin me way that made me lose my senses.
Even the faint lines at the corners of his eyes when he smiled deepened his allure, sending a flush to my cheeks every time he smiled at me.
I’m sure Sarah would refer to Arik as a Daddy. I always wondered what exactly made a man a Daddy, aside from fathering children.
But now, I know.
Arik is a Daddy. A dominant man, senior to me, who is charming and dangerously handsome. A man whose age only accentuates his attractiveness. A man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to take it.
I am utterly fucked. Figuratively…and, I hope, literally.
God knows I need it.
“You okay, love?” Arik asked in my direction, as I was pulled back into reality, completely unaware that my thirsty-ass was staring at him with my mouth open like a horned-up animal.
I stammered, “Oh. Sorry. I was deep in thought. Yeah…I’m fine.” I smoothed out my dress, pulling down the hem that had wandered to my mid-thigh like a mating call.
Arik smiled and blushed with obvious awareness of my thoughts. He looked…satisfied.
The SUV made its way down the long gravel road—olive trees and thick shrubbery flanking the way like silent guards as we passed through the golden gates of the winery.
We turned toward town and picked up the pace as the SUV sped down the road, rows of fully ripened grapes flying by.
I stared out the window, watching as all the colors bled together, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was in a car with this enigmatic man—in Italy, no less.
Arik’s attention shifted to my hand that was resting gently against the cold black leather in the empty space between us. He reached over, intertwining his fingers with mine once again. His touch sent a pleasant shiver through me that I had begun to miss over the last hour.
I turned my gaze from the rolling hills outside the window to his face, still puzzling over why he had stopped in the hotel room earlier in the day.
Who makes out and rolls around in bed like that, only to stop and suggest a trip to town?
Arik shifted closer to me, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding into the middle seat. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders while continuing to hold my hand with his other, creating an intimate cocoon of warmth and comfort between my body and his.
Just as I started to feel relaxed in his presence, my thoughts crept in.
I couldn’t stop my mind from filling with thoughts about how this is probably some sex-crazed game for him.
How he probably picks up women at the winery and hotel all the time.
How he checks all the boxes for a single bachelor who is sexist and full of himself.
How he called me “love” to trick me into believing he has feelings for me.
My heart quickened, and I suddenly felt very, very stupid. Not just for being here in this moment with him, but for opening up to him last night. I gave him every bit of information he needed to manipulate me and get my pants off.
Yet…he didn’t try to take my pants off.
Strange.
Arik cleared his throat and started to point out landmarks, sharing snippets of the village’s history as we drove. His knowledge was extensive, and he spoke with a genuine affection for the area that slowly eased my tension. It was like I had my own personal tour guide.
As the blue of the ocean started to peek through the hills, I found my shoulders dropping and my back settling inch by inch against his chest. I was melting into him and couldn’t seem to stop.
His stories were engaging, and his passion for Calabria was infectious.
I leaned my back into him, resting my head gently in the space between his shoulder and his neck—the steady rise and fall of his chest against me as my breath synced with his.
I looked up at him, meeting his eyes with a mixture of curiosity and affection. He smiled widely, the wrinkles around his eyes exaggerating as he lowered his chin and pressed his lips into mine. The softness of his kiss left me in a haze as he pulled away.
His lips parted from mine as he whispered, “You’re incredible.”
A flush of color rose to my cheeks, and I turned my attention back to the window, trying to hide my intense blush as my heart pounded. “Why do you say that?” I whispered, keeping my eyes fixed on the view.
“There’s just something about you,” Arik said, his breath warm against my ear as he leaned closer, speaking in hushed tones. “I think I’m obsessed.”
His words, filled with a sincerity that was both unsettling and exhilarating, sent a thrill through me.
I felt my heart skip a beat as his hand moved to trace lazy circles on my exposed thigh.
The sensation was so profound it was almost overwhelming, making my breath hitch in my throat.
I had never experienced such a powerful attraction to a man before, not even with Alex.
Alex was one of those guys you could take home to your mom. He would make a good impression and appear loving.
Arik, though—my mom would have questions.