Arik
Chapter Twelve
As she ascended the stairs, the warm glow of the candles on the dining room table illuminated the view of the sea beyond.
I placed my hand gently on her back, guiding her to the seat at the end of the table.
Pulling her chair out for her, I watched as she settled in before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
With one final, lingering look, I took my place at the opposite end of the table.
The transformation of the room was immediate.
As I slid into my chair, the staff appeared magically, orchestrating a seamless presentation of the evening’s fare.
Bottles of wine, baskets of freshly baked bread, and plates of gourmet food arrived in a choreographed dance.
The sounds of glasses clinking, plates being sat, and the subtle crackling of the fireplace created a soothing backdrop to our dinner.
Claire looked up from her seat, her eyes meeting mine as she placed a red cloth napkin in her lap. She noted the distance between us of at least ten feet and playfully called out, “Can you hear me over there, or do I need to call someone to bring you a letter?”
I could not help but smile, taking a sip of my wine before meeting her gaze. “I don’t need any more temptation right now,” I replied with a chuckle, mirroring her actions as I dipped my bread into the dish of fresh oil and balsamic.
Claire took her time with her steak, cutting into the perfectly cooked meat with ease. The tender cut of prime steak, infused with a hint of butter and garlic, was a testament to our chef’s skills.
Between bites, she glanced around the villa, her curiosity apparent. She mumbled through a bite of steak, “I still have so many questions.”
“Like what?” I asked, my interest piqued as I swallowed a golden fingerling potato.
“Um. Villa. Staff. Big ass SUVs. Who are you?” Claire asked seriously, her eyes never leaving mine, as if she was searching them for a truth…or a lie.
“I am Arik. We had this conversation quite some time ago, love,” I said with my signature charming smile, the same one she had been captivated by for the past forty-eight hours.
“You know that’s not the answer I’m looking for,” Claire replied, her tone indicating she was not about to let the matter drop.
“I have businesses. They are successful. I work hard. I make smart decisions,” I said nonchalantly, taking another bite of steak and pressing it firmly against the plate to soak up the oily juices.
We continued our meal in silence, our glances and occasional smiles conveying more than words could. The candlelight flickered between us, casting a warm glow that contrasted with the soft, rhythmic sound of the waves crashing in the distance and the gentle crackling of the fire.
As the meal progressed, Claire’s curiosity seemed to rekindle. “How old are you?” she asked, clearly prepared to delve deeper.
I looked at her with a mixture of amusement and contemplation, ready to navigate the next chapter of our conversation.
“Thirty-eight,” I replied, my eyes locked on Claire’s face, searching for any sign of satisfaction with my answer.
Her next question came swiftly. “What’s your last name?”
“Medici.” I set my fork down gently, savoring the moment’s intimacy, allowing my gaze to drift over her features as if trying to gauge her reaction.
“And your family?” Claire inquired, her tone probing, hinting at a curiosity that seemed to run deeper than the surface-level questions.
“None to speak of. Just me, myself, and I,” I said with a smile, crossing my arms against my chest and leaning in slightly.
“So, it’s just you, your villa, your staff, your businesses, and no revolving door of foreign women every week?” Claire’s eyebrow arched skeptically as she spoke, her brown eyes piercing through me.
“That’s exactly it,” I replied seriously, reaching for my wine glass to take a slow sip.
I needed the time to gather my thoughts, to ensure I was presenting my truth without revealing too much of the darker undertones of my existence. “What is your hesitation?” I asked, setting the glass down and turning my full attention to her.
“I don’t have any hesitations,” Claire responded, though her tone was tinged with a mix of uncertainty and curiosity. “Just confused.”
“Confused? About what?” My genuine curiosity was piqued even more. I rested my intertwined fingers below my chin, resting my elbows on the table as I awaited her answer.
“I don’t understand how a successful, handsome, well-off man is just living in solidarity like this…with no companionship,” Claire said, her head tilting as she raised an eyebrow.
“I am just picky, I guess. I want someone special,” I said, narrowing my eyes and lowering my chin.
“I’m not special,” Claire replied, her hand reaching for the bread once more.
“I am telling you that you are. I am the picky one,” I said with a smile, standing from my chair and walking quickly to her side. I took the seat to her right, allowing the closeness to bridge the gap that had existed moments before.
“Oh, now you can sit down here? All the way down here?” Claire’s laughter was light, almost musical, as if she found my sudden proximity both amusing and endearing.
“The temptation has subsided…for now,” I said with a playful smile, placing my hand on her leg and gently pushing her robe up to feel the smoothness of her skin beneath my fingers. The moment was electric as our eyes locked, and her thigh twitched under my hand.
Suddenly, the staff appeared, placing small porcelain plates of tiramisu before us, the delicate gold forks gleaming under the candlelight.
“Oh my,” Claire gasped in delight. “You remembered my favorite.” She picked up her fork, her movements methodical as she dug into the rich dessert, inhaling the aromatic blend of espresso and cocoa.
“See. You are practically Italian. You would not need to assimilate at all if you just stayed here.” I laughed, enjoying the sight of her delight as I also lifted my fork, savoring a delicate bite of tiramisu.
After her first mouthful, Claire sat her fork gently on the side of her plate, her eyes locking onto mine with a penetrating gaze. “You know, you’ve said quite a few times that I should stay here. Do you mean in Italy?”
“No, I don’t,” I replied bluntly, placing my fork down with deliberate calm.
“Oh.” Claire’s sigh was heavy, her gaze dropping to her plate, as if trying to process the weight of my words.
“I mean, here with me, in my villa. Our villa…” I clarified, waiting for her reaction to settle.
“What?” Claire’s eyebrows shot up, her expression a mix of disbelief and curiosity. “Like, you want me to be your girlfriend and…stay here?”
“I want you to be more than my girlfriend, but sure, we can start there. For now,” I said with a smile, lifting my fork to finish my last bite of tiramisu. The declaration was both a promise and a challenge.
Claire’s reaction was immediate, her jaw dropping slightly as she spoke slowly. “You do realize that’s crazy, right? We met two days ago.”
“What’s crazy about that?” I asked, my smile shifting to a coy grin as I leaned back into my chair. My tone was light, but my mind raced with the implications of my words.
“We barely know each other.” Claire laughed, her amusement tinged with disbelief as she shook her head and pressed her hand to her forehead.
“What do you want to know?” I shrugged, tilting my head slightly. The question was genuine, though laced with the underlying edge of my desire to understand her better.
“Well, I can’t think of anything right this second,” Claire stammered, her thoughts visibly racing.
“Okay. Well, can you name one good reason not to stay with me forever? One logical reason?” I asked, my gaze steady as I watched her reaction.
The question lingered in the air, charged with unspoken promises and a future that seemed to beckon with both allure and uncertainty.
She leaned back, letting her words fill the air to face their judgment.
“My job, my family, and the fact that I don’t really know you,” she stammered, as I watched her closely, gauging the sincerity of her statement.
The gravity of her answer seemed to weigh heavily on her, and for a moment, she was silent, absorbing the implications of what I had just laid out.
I could not help but smirk slightly, feeling a mix of satisfaction and amusement as I said, “As for the job, that is an easy fix. I can be quite persuasive when I need to be. If you are with me, you will not need a job. But if you want to keep it, I am sure I could help position the move in a way that benefits your company. No sweat.” I gave a casual shrug, letting the offer linger in the air.
Claire did not immediately respond; her expression caught between disbelief and contemplation. I could see the realization dawning on her. It was a rare feeling, this kind of transparency. It seemed to both shock and intrigue her.
“Your family is no issue either. I have top-notch transportation arrangements. I can get you to Long Island in six hours, if necessary,” I said, my voice steady. I leaned forward slightly, my gaze intense as I added, “Anything else? I am talking genuine issues, not just petty excuses.”
She remained silent, processing what I had said. It was almost gratifying to see her struggling to wrap her mind around the straightforwardness of my offers. I enjoyed the way it unsettled her just enough to keep her off-balance.
“Would you like to finish your dessert?” I asked, trying to ease the tension that had built up.
“That’s okay,” Claire replied quietly, as if she were still trying to piece together her thoughts.
“Wonderful,” I said, standing up with a smile. I moved to her chair and helped her up, my hand casually resting on her back. The staff quickly moved in, clearing the table with practiced efficiency as we made our way back to the chamber below.
As we entered, the room was bathed in the warm, flickering light of a roaring fire. The fire cast long shadows and highlighted the room’s rustic Italian charm, making the space feel both intimate and grand.
Claire was momentarily lost in the firelight, her gaze wandering over the room as if searching for hidden secrets within its darkened corners. Her stillness was a clear sign of her preoccupation, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.
“I do have a shirt for you to sleep in, if you’d like one,” I said, pulling her back to the present. Her attention snapped to me, and I could see the flicker of surprise in her eyes.
“Wait. What time is it? I’m sleeping here?” Her anxiety was evident as she scanned the room for a clock.
“It’s after midnight, and yes,” I replied with a reassuring smile. The fact that she was unsettled by this did not escape me; it was a part of the game.
“But I have a big, beautiful suite with my name on it,” she said, a hint of disbelief in her voice.
“And now you have an Italian villa with your name on it,” I countered smoothly.
I could see the blush creeping across her cheeks as she reached for the oversized white cotton shirt I offered.
I watched her carefully as she took off her robe, making no attempt to cover her bare body.
She slipped into the shirt, her hard nipples peaking beneath the fabric as the rest of it fell to the middle of her thighs.
I held her robe in front of her. “Now…would you like me to embroider something on this one, so you know it’s yours?” I asked, my tone serious despite the lightness of the question.
“I get it, I get it. You don’t have women over. It’s been received,” Claire said, rolling her eyes as she plugged her iPhone into the charging station at the bedside table. The screen lit up, showing 1:12 a.m., with no new messages or notifications.
“Finally!” I exclaimed, settling into the bed as the firelight painted my skin in an orange glow.
I grabbed the remote control from the bedside table and aimed it at the doors leading to the terrace.
With a few quick presses, the glass panels slid shut—the echo of the locking mechanism resonated through the room.
Moments later, black metal panels cascaded over the glass, blocking out the moonlight and the sounds of the sea.
“Was that to keep people out or keep me in?” Claire asked, her eyes wide as she slid into bed.
“A little bit of both. But mostly for storms…we are on a beach, after all,” I said with a nonchalant shrug, pulling the red velvet blanket over the white down comforter. I felt her body heat as she nestled into the bed next to me, the plush bedding enveloping us in a luxurious cocoon.
As Claire settled in against my chest, she asked, “So those men…your security. If they hear you trying to murder me, will they come to help me?” Her chuckle was soft, but I could see the genuine concern in her eyes as she hooked her thigh across my knees.
I sighed deeply. “Probably not.” I pulled her thigh closer, my grip firm but gentle as my hand searched upward.
Her eyes widened with a mix of fear and disbelief. The truth of my words hit her, and for a moment, the playful atmosphere of our conversation shifted into something more intense. I leaned back against the plush bedding, letting a genuine laugh escape my lips as I tried to lighten the mood.
“I’m kidding,” I said, my other hand gently rubbing Claire’s back in a soothing, circular motion. I saw the moment her eyes widened in shock, a reaction that only made me smile more.
“I mean, eh, probably not. But, for one, I do not want to kill you. And for two, I cannot fuck you if you are dead. That is not my thing,” I added, my tone playful but tinged with a hint of seriousness.
Claire’s expression shifted, a mix of surprise and disbelief painting her features as her body stiffened under my touch.
I let my arm slide lower, my hand finding her bare backside and giving it a gentle squeeze as I struggled to not wander too much lower.
I could sense her tension, and I wanted to reassure her, let her know that despite the dark humor, my intentions were far from harmful.
I closed my eyes, savoring the warmth of her against me. “I am kidding,” I said again, my voice softer this time, more sincere. I wanted her to feel safe, to understand that beneath my joking exterior was genuine care.
As Claire gently rested her head on my chest, I could feel the rise and fall of her breath, the rhythmic pattern soothing both her and me.
The dark surroundings of the room seemed to wrap around us, creating a cocoon of tranquility.
She sunk into a peaceful slumber, her body relaxing as the tension of the day faded away.
I took a moment to enjoy the serenity of the scene before me. The firelight flickered softly, casting gentle shadows that danced across the room. I let my hand linger on her back, feeling the warmth of her skin and the steady beat of her heart.
In the quiet of the room, I kissed the top of her head and whispered softly into the darkness, “Sogni d’oro.”