Chapter 29
Daisy Peonia Mary Parker
Castello dell’Fiero, Calabria, Italy
The air was particularly warm that morning.
I chose one of the many summer dresses Camillo had given me.
It was dark green, lacy, with delicate straps, and fell just above the knees.
On my feet, I wore simple brown sandals.
I adjusted the skirt of the dress, creating a barrier between my thighs and the rough stone of the small wall, and sighed, inhaling the scent of warm earth and dry grass, mingling with the fragrance of a nearby tangerine tree.
Closing my eyes, I absorbed the dawn. The air wrapped around me like a blanket, the sun pouring over my face like warm water.
Despite how sore my body was after the previous night's run, I felt light.
Relieved. Now that I could escape from the housekeeper's house, the nights were no longer so frightening.
I liked running through the hills and seeing Castello dell'Fiero in the distance, turned into a nostalgic painting.
“Enjoying the view?”
I jumped up at the sound of that Italian accent behind me. Turning around, I found Camillo standing in the middle of the garden, his hands in the pockets of his black sweatpants, a gray T-shirt clinging to his muscular body, and the morning light shining in his jade eyes.
It was a beautiful and dangerous image.
“I like to watch the sunrise,” I replied in a whisper. I hated noise in the mornings. There was something magnificent about them. The chirping of birds waking up mingled with the songs of insects. Human voices always ruined it.
Camillo smiled lazily and stepped forward, the sun covering him entirely and turning his exposed skin to copper and gold.
“Are the clothes enough?” he asked, that dangerously intense, heavy-lashed gaze sliding over my body and making my skin tingle. “If you need more, let me know.”
“Okay,” I simply said, wondering if he had noticed the T-shirt I had stolen from him.
“Luca is worried,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on the horizon behind me.
I, on the other hand, couldn't tear my eyes away from him.
Camillo used to comb his black hair backwards with some kind of gel, but at that moment, it fell in silky waves around his face, framing his masculine features.
I noticed his well-defined jawline and the perfection of his upturned nose.
“He told me you went out last night and didn't come back until dawn. That you went to the hills.”
I hesitated a little and held my breath when his heavy-lashed gazed turned to mine. The jade outshone the golden hues of the sun, taking on a vivid shade of green.
“I thought I was free to go wherever I wanted to...” I murmured, even though I remembered perfectly well what I had promised Luca. I swore I would wait for Camillo's permission, but I didn't keep my word.
Camillo nodded slightly. “You can. But just because we have eyes in every corner doesn't mean the dangers disappear completely,” he explained, his voice purring like a lazy cat. “The hills are steep and rugged. If you fall, you could hurt yourself. Not to mention that you could get lost.”
“I have a good sense of direction.”
“But no word, it seems.” The harshness of his voice stung me and made me straighten up, holding his gaze. “You should apologize to Luca. He was hurt.”
Guilt washed over me. Luca had been so kind the day before, and what had I done? I didn't keep my promise. I disrespected him, even though it hadn't been my intention.
“I... I'll do that,” I murmured, lowering my face and focusing on my little toes peeking out from the brown straps of the sandals. “Since you took so long to come back, I... I didn't think it was that serious.”
“It's dangerous to go into the hills at night, Signorina Parker.” I swallowed hard when I heard his drawling voice, feeling my hands sweat profusely. I didn't want to be locked up at night anymore. “Why didn't you keep the promise you made to Luca and wait? Was it that important to go for a run?”
I turned slightly toward the sun, shifting my weight from one leg to the other. “As I told you when I first arrived here, I don't like being alone at night.”
“You're alone when you go running.”
“Yes, but I'm not locked up in a dark place.” I explained as best I could, not wanting to give too many details.
“Did you do that in Mississippi too?”
“Only when Aunt Lizzie was out or... or there was too much noise.” I admitted reluctantly and dashed toward the villa, hoping he would drop the subject.
I was out of luck.
As soon as I climbed the steps to the back porch, I saw his reflection behind mine in the huge glass doors.
“What is that ‘noise’?” he asked, keeping pace with me.
I didn't stop.
“Noise in my head, that's all.” I dismissed it, breathing a sigh of relief when I finally saw the huge white marble countertops, full of pink veins, and the light-yellow tone of the kitchen furniture.
In one corner of the counter, white cardboard boxes filled with cakes were already resting, because Italians had some kind of pact with the devil that allowed them to eat a huge amount of sugar every morning without dying of diabetes.
Or perhaps those were the perks of living in a country with public healthcare.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Camillo drag the chair where he usually sat. He ate there every day, at the small round kitchen table. That is, when he actually showed up.
I made him his morning espresso and put a pistachio cornetto on a plate. When I set breakfast in front of him, he wrapped his hand around my wrist, pulling me closer.
“Did that ‘noise’ go away when your aunt was home?”
“The noise never goes away when it appears, but having my aunt with me allowed me to sleep peacefully.” I replied with difficulty, both because I had no desire to tell him that and because the warm touch of his hand on my wrist made me restless and sent my heart racing.
“Do you think it would help if you slept here in the villa?”
I felt myself blush. The heat of his body was too close to mine to be comfortable.
I freed myself from his hand and returned to the space between the kitchen island and the countertop, cleaning the espresso machine with clumsy hands.
I didn't like how I felt in this man's presence.
The way he made me feel safe, almost as if I was home.
Because he was anything but that.
He wanted to kill me, and I'd better never forget that. Besides, he spent the previous night out, probably with some woman.
Everything about him smelled of danger.
“Daisy?”
My hands froze under the running water. I stopped, staring at him over the island where the sink was, sprawled in his chair like a predator about to pounce. My name, in his voice, was the last thing I wanted to hear.
“Yes?”
“I asked you a question.” He purred. “Do you want to come live inside the villa?”
A tiny rage invaded my chest.
“May I ask why this sudden kindness?” I fired back, drying my hands on a cloth that I felt like throwing in his face. "Is this some kind of torture? Treating your future victim kindly?"
He sat up straight in his chair, his expression hardening. “I thought we were past the tantrum stage.”
“’Tantrum stage’?!” I laughed sarcastically.
He had some nerve. “Every day I'm forced to call my family and put on a show convincing enough to make them think I'm fine. Every day I wake up not knowing if it will be my last. If I'm going to die or live to see another season. As far as I’m concerned, I’m your prisoner, so I'm sorry if I don't like it one bit that you're making a fool of me with your fake kindness.”
Camillo crossed his arms over his chest, the tattoos outlining his broad biceps and disappearing under the short sleeves of his T-shirt. He leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised in my direction.
“Are you done?” Those words awakened a deep resentment in me that made me wonder if it would be a bad idea to stab him. “I don't want you to live in fear. For the time you have left, I want you to relax, to enjoy the wonders of this land while you can.”
“Olivia told me that the police already closed the case. That it's been ruled a suicide.” I pointed, my heart strangled by everything that had happened in the last few days, anger clouding my thoughts. “I suppose you're going to kill me soon.”
“Daisy—”
“Why don't you just get it over with? Why wait so long?”
“Daisy, listen to me…”
"Couldn't you just shoot me and leave me in the middle of the road? Or, I don't know, throw me into a hole in hills! Make it look like an accident! Or—"
“DAISY!” He growled, rising suddenly and slamming his fist down on the tabletop, silencing me. “Enough! When the time comes, believe me, you'll know. For now, do as I say and live.”
I laughed dismissively and wrapped my arms around my body. “Sure. ‘Live’. As if I could live in this place. I can't even go for a run without asking permission.”
He watched me, his expression impossible to read. “Because it's dangerous.” Each word was drawn out. "Don't complicate a situation that's already difficult. There's no reason to live in fear or anger. We're not enemies, Daisy."
“Yes, we are. From the moment you promised to kill me, we're nothing else but enemies.” I fired back, pointing a finger at him, and saw his gaze darken. “And stop calling me by my name. I don't like it.”
Camillo lunged as soon as those last words left my lips, circling the island in seconds, advancing with long strides, and I stumbled backward until my butt hit the counter. Faced with his wolf-like gaze, which seemed to shine through the shadows, I wondered if he intended to hurt me.
His actions answered that question.
He pressed his body against mine, caging me in with his arms on either side, his hands braced on the counter, trapping me like a predator with its prey.
I swallowed hard.
“You ‘don’t like it’?” He growled in a tone that was too low, those pieces of jade on his face seemed to burn, and I lifted my chin, standing my ground. “But you keep insisting that other men call you Daisy. Or do you think I wasn’t informed?”
My breathing quickened. What he was saying was true.
During those days in Castello dell'Fiero, I ignored his orders and insisted that the security guards who patrolled the premises, or soldati, as he called them, addressed me by my name.
I couldn't stand formalities, let alone them controlling how I interacted with other human beings. But I hadn't expected them to tell him.
“How people address me is my God damn problem, not yours” I challenged.
Camillo laughed, and his warm breath, mingled with coffee and fresh mint, brushed my cheek.
“No... Daisy. It's not your problem.” His mouth came dangerously close to mine.
"In case you haven't noticed, I'm the one who gives the orders around here, and I don't allow any man but me to call you Daisy. Capisci?"
“No, I don't ‘capisci’ anything.” I growled in the same low, harsh tone, puffing out my chest and holding his gaze. Our noses touched lightly. “You have no right to decide these things. It's my life.”
“Wrong. Your life is mine to do with as I please.” My heart was pounding in my chest. My gaze was unable to break away from his. “We can get along like two civilized human beings, with you following orders and me trying to make your stay as pleasant as possible, or we can both be ignorant.”
“I'm not afraid of your threats...” I retorted, my breathing too rapid to push him away.
Or maybe I didn't want to.
“For everyone's sake, you'd better obey, Daisy.”
“If not?”
I hadn't even finished the question.
His lips collided with mine.
I clenched my fists, punching his chest, trying to push him away. But when his strong arms wrapped around my waist, I felt myself melt against the warmth of his strong chest, and my lips parted, letting him in.
He tasted of mint, coffee, and pistachio, and I closed my eyes and let myself savor him, forgetting where I was and who he was. Who we were in each other's lives. His scent of liquor and caramel marking my skin like a hot iron.
He broke the kiss as if I had electrocuted him, pulling away.
“Scusa. I shouldn't—” He gasped, turning on his heel and bolting out of the kitchen, leaving me breathless and unable to react, still processing what had just happened.
I just kissed my kidnapper.
Worse than that, I liked it.