Chapter Eleven Ella
Chapter Eleven
Ella
In the elevator, I peek over at Zoe and Rhia. They’re both practically glowing with excitement.
Live a little. Rhia’s words echo in my mind.
Well, if I’m already out of my depth, I might as well learn how to swim. When will I ever get another chance to go out with someone as enigmatic as the man standing right next to me?
Pushing your comfort zone is good for personal growth, isn’t it?
Jeez, who am I trying to convince?
When the elevator reaches the lobby and the doors open, Gualtiero places his hand on the small of my back and guides me through the hotel.
His touch does nothing to calm me. Quite the opposite. The butterflies in my stomach launch into their most daring routine yet.
Outside, two large black SUVs with heavily tinted windows wait at the curb.
Romeo and Zoe head for the first one, her hand in the crook of his arm.
A driver, just as burly as Tiero’s guards, opens the back door of the second car.
Mateo moves toward the front row with Rhia about to follow, but at the last second, I grab her hand and pull her into the back with me.
No way am I sitting next to Gualtiero on my own.
He rounds the car and slides in beside me anyway.
Great. Now I’m sandwiched between him and my best friend.
Why didn’t he take the hint and sit next to Mateo?
As soon as the doors close, a guard slips into the passenger seat while another gets into the SUV in front of us. I catch a glimpse of more men already inside it.
How much security does this man need?
And is it a good idea to leave Zoe alone with several of them?
Not that she’d complain.
We pull away toward Catania. It will take forty-five minutes to get there, and the same distance back. All this for dinner.
Depending on how the evening unfolds, this could get awkward. I haven’t even had a proper conversation with the man yet. We might have nothing to talk about.
My nerves spike again, and I try to focus on anything but the fact that Gualtiero’s knee keeps brushing against mine.
He’s so close.
I wish I could swap places with Mateo. He’s sprawled across the opposite seat, half turned toward us with his arm draped along the backrest, looking perfectly at ease.
To my relief, conversation flows easily, picking up from our sightseeing over the past few days. I mostly listen, grateful not to be responsible for keeping things going while my body is acutely aware of the man beside me.
“Ladies, did you know Sicily is home to not one but two of Italy’s three active volcanoes?” Mateo asks, a smile in place.
“Stromboli and Etna,” Rhia replies confidently. She’s done her homework well before our trip.
“What’s the third one?” I ask, curious.
“Vesuvius. Near Naples. Pompeii was destroyed by it,” he answers, flashing Rhia one of his megawatt smiles.
Before Lex, she would have been all over this. But those days are long gone. Now her entire world revolves around the man who stole her heart.
“Mount Etna is the tallest volcano in Europe,” Gualtiero adds, clearly not about to let his brother take all the credit.
The two of them start nudging each other, competing with facts and making us laugh. Their dynamic is easy, familiar. It’s obvious they’re close.
I try to follow the conversation, but my concentration keeps slipping. Every time Tiero speaks, his voice seems to settle somewhere low in my stomach instead of my ears.
“And what’s the highest volcano in the world?” Rhia challenges, raising an eyebrow.
Mateo gestures grandly toward his brother. “Volcanoes are your specialty, dear brother. I don’t want to upstage you.”
“Of course I know,” Gualtiero says, then stalls. “The tallest volcano in the world would have to be… in South America…”
His expression is priceless. He has no idea.
Rhia quickly looks it up on her phone. “Ojos del Salado. On the Argentina-Chile border.”
“I’ll add it to my travel list,” Gualtiero replies with mock dignity.
“Back to Etna,” Mateo continues. “About twenty-five percent of the Sicilian population live on its slopes.”
“That’s brave.” Or incredibly stupid, but I keep that part to myself. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near an active volcano.”
“People learn to live with it,” Gualtiero says. “It’s one of the longest-running active volcanoes in the world. On average, Etna erupts every couple of years.”
I stare at him. “You’re kidding.”
We’re booked on a full-day tour tomorrow. Being roasted alive wasn’t on my travel agenda.
“When did it last erupt?” I ask.
“A while ago,” he says with a faint smirk. “It’s probably due.”
Is he serious?
Rhia, of course, is unfazed and starts telling them all about our planned tour.
Sensing my unease, Gualtiero takes my hand.
He leans closer, his mouth near my ear. “Don’t worry. You’ll be safe. I wouldn’t let you go if there was any real danger. They monitor Etna constantly. They’d close the mountain at the first sign of trouble.”
His words do calm me.
Unfortunately, his breath on my neck and his fingers brushing over my skin have the exact opposite effect.
My pulse races. Heat climbs into my cheeks. I stare straight ahead, pretending I’m not acutely aware of every inch of him beside me.
Surely, he has to feel this too.
I drop my gaze to my lap, embarrassed by my body’s reaction, especially when he appears so calm.
I gently pull my hand away, needing space from his overwhelming presence. Not that there’s much to be had in this backseat.
Crap. I need to take a deep breath, but I don’t want to make it obvious. So I hold it instead.
Bad idea.
His cologne fills my lungs, warm and intoxicating, and I swear I can feel the heat radiating off him.
Gualtiero and I fall quiet while conversation continues between the other two. Rhia can talk to anyone about anything, and I’m grateful she’s here.
We finally arrive at the restaurant.
Celestro looks small and unassuming when we get out of the car, but once inside, it opens up far more than I expected.
We wait by the hostess stand for Zoe and Romeo to join us. They walk in arm in arm, both grinning widely.
Looks like they had a fun car ride.
I study our little deviant and, oh my gosh, I think her lips are swollen. I stare a moment too long. She catches me and winks.
Yep. She’s already been making out with him.
How does she do that? Go from meeting someone one second to sitting in his lap the next?
“She’s so much worse than I ever was,” Rhia whispers in my ear.
“We should have challenged her to be Opposite Zoe. God only knows what she’ll get up to next. Let’s hope she behaves during dinner,” I whisper back.
The hostess leads us to our table. Warm, dim lighting creates a cozy atmosphere, and the high-end furnishings give the place a sophisticated, elegant feel.
Our little procession draws attention. Gasps and whispers ripple around us, and I hear someone murmur, il leone.
Gualtiero is clearly known here.
So why is there nothing about him online?
His hand rests on my lower back as we pass several women openly gawking at him. Others smile flirtatiously, but he doesn’t acknowledge any of them. Their curious gazes shift to me, assessing.
I’m suddenly very glad the girls talked me into buying this dress. At least I look the part.
I straighten my posture and pretend I belong at the side of this Italian god.
Gualtiero pulls out my chair while Mateo and Romeo do the same for the girls before taking their seats. Rhia sits to my left, Gualtiero to my right, while Zoe faces us, flanked by the other two.
I bet she’s enjoying being the meat in that sandwich.
The hostess hands us menus, tells us about the specials, and disappears. Like a well rehearsed dance, a smartly dressed server appears to fill our water glasses.
“Can I get you anything from the bar?” he asks, his accent thick.
Gualtiero looks at me, then the girls. “Champagne? Or something else?”
“Champagne would be lovely, thank you,” Rhia says, and I nod in agreement. I don’t drink often, but tonight I might need a little liquid courage.
The men order scotch, and polite conversation fills the space until our drinks arrive.
A song Rhia loves starts playing, and her body sways to the rhythm. Mateo notices, rises from his seat, and offers his hand.
Without hesitation, she lets him lead her to the small dance floor at the back of the restaurant.
As she leaves, she gives Zoe a not-so-subtle wink.
Zoe jumps up, grabs Romeo’s hand, and drags him along. Those two are in full flirtation mode, touching at every opportunity.
I stare after them in disbelief.
Rhia knows exactly what she’s doing. Her smile is mischievous whenever she glances back at me.
Ah well. Might as well use this. With the four of them dancing, I see my chance to satisfy my curiosity.
But can I be this direct? Or should I ease into it first?
I cross and uncross my legs under the table, my knees bouncing. I wipe my damp hands on the seat.
Why am I making this so hard?
Fuck it. Opposite Ella is here, and she’s not clumsy.
Taking a deep breath, I go for it.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” He smiles warmly. He’s been watching me closely.
I hesitate, unsure how to start. But there’s no turning back now.
“What happened yesterday afternoon? The car… why was someone trying to run you over?”