Chapter 12
C ALLUM
A woman’s footsteps follow me in the hallway as I’m about to head out.
“Mr. O’Hara?”
“It’s Nona,” Cosimo says, who slows down behind me.
I turn to them as she hands him a small suitcase.
“A few things for Leilani, if you don’t mind,” she says with a smile, relief glinting in her eyes.
She grins at him and then at me again.
“I’m so happy that she’s all right and stays with you now,” the woman says, as if it’s the best thing that could’ve happened to her. “Take good care of her,” she adds, as if I haven’t made it clear that she’ll get married to someone else soon.
Maybe I let out more than I wanted at the breakfast table, although I doubt it.
The woman must’ve witnessed some of the bad stuff that happened to Leilani, and she’s now relieved she’s in good hands.
“Thank you,” I say in a clipped voice before I turn around and make a beeline for the car waiting for me.
“Give them a moment,” I say to the driver as Cosimo stays behind to talk to the woman.
They shake hands in the end, and he leans toward her while she kisses him on the cheek. Although I can’t tell from here, I could swear she blushes.
She probably won’t be working in that house for long.
Moments later, the cars crawl slowly toward the edge of the property, and before long, the shore and town come into view.
A sense of freedom falls over me, although it’s too early to call it a win. Who knew that things would shift the way they did?
I unbutton my jacket and relax in my seat as we move slowly toward our destination.
Giorgio may try to do something, but it won’t fare well.Varela might try to do something, too, if Giorgio informs him of what just happened.
And then, he’ll find out, like everybody else, what his future bride has been to the men in her family’s house.
She’s clearly not a virgin, too, which would rank high in Varela’s view.He won’t live long enough to learn the truth about that.
Smiling to myself, I revel in the view of the town.
“Things all right, Boss?” Cosimo asks.
I shift my eyes to him, still smiling.
“They’ve never been better. How are things with you? You’re making strides with that woman.”
Cheeks flushed, he looks out the window for a second.
“She’s a good woman,” he says.
“Just like Leilani.”
He turns to me, and our eyes lock briefly.
“They are just the victims of a bad environment,” I say, tilting my head back, running my fingers through my hair, and stretching my legs.
“Nasty bunch of people,” I mutter to myself. “Had no idea things were that bad.” I finally look at him. “Luckily, I found a way out of this story.”
He has a thoughtful look on his face.
“What will happen to her?”
“I can’t tell you now. If I do, I’ll need to kill you,” I joke.
He grins, entertained.
“So, things will be all right,” he says.
“More than all right,” I murmur, shifting my eyes to the view.
Before long, we reach our destination.
Moments later, I climb out, take the stairs up, and remove my jacket.
I’m still walking, holding it in one hand as I start rolling up a sleeve. I’m done with one and starting the other after shifting my jacket from one hand to the other when I reach the floor, where she and I live.
The doors to the dining room are open, and there she is, sitting at the table, wearing one of those embroidered nightgowns that must’ve been the rage two centuries ago.
Her eyes are tilted down, her focus on her food.
On a white tablecloth, a porcelain plate and cup sit. Next to it, silverware.
A small vase with a few poppies adds color to this image that looks like an antique painting.
Her hair flows down her back, over her shoulders, framing her angelic face.
She doesn’t see me––perhaps she hasn’t even heard me––as she pops small bits of food into her mouth.
I freeze in the doorway and take her in.
The room is not fancy in the slightest, not by modern standards. There is no marble, no sculptures, no fountains, no serving crew.
I’m exaggerating just to make my point.
It’s a cozy, elegant space now dripping with history. And it’s not only the history of those who lived in the past cloying the air.
It’s the history of us beginning to shape up.
I don’t know how long I’ll need to keep this woman with me to teach her to trust people again and live the rest of her life in a modicum of peace. To coach her about the business of life and allow her to open her heart to me like a flower under the sun’s tender touch.
I don’t know how long it will take to replace her abject memories with better ones and allow the child in her to heal and be ready to gift someone else her love.
Whatever it takes, I’m ready to provide.
I want Leilani Gallo to become whoever she was supposed to be in the first place. Before everyone else took a piece of her and made her into a crazed woman who, more often than not, has lived on edge.
Her power is real, but so is her pain.
I’m about to step back and let her enjoy her food when she flicks her eyes up and catches sight of me.
A ribbon of sunlight threads through her gaze, making her eyes look like globes of tears.
A smile touches her lips.
“You’re back,” she says, setting her fork down.
Happiness reads in her eyes.
“Come. Join me,” she says with the type of graciousness I’ve never had the chance of witnessing. “Are you hungry?”
I set myself in motion, drop my jacket on a chair by the wall, and reach the table.
“I’m fine. I had breakfast. How’s the food?”
“Food is good,” she says, brushing her hair away from her face and sliding it all over one shoulder. “You can keep me company,” she says with a smile.
“Sure.”
I take a seat close to her.
“Do I need to do anything today?” she asks.
I rest my forearms on the table while she surreptitiously checks my tattoos.
“You need to call Rory and tell her you’re all right.”
Her smile fades as if wiped away by a magic wand.
“Something happened,” she says, her eyes filled with gore.
“Eat in peace. Nothing happened. She left for New York earlier than she anticipated, and she was worried about you.”
“How do you know?” she asks suspiciously.
I ponder a good answer.
“I was there.”
The blood drains from her face as she leans away from her food as if she’s no longer allowed to eat.
Her lips become bluish, although the sun still runs warm fingers over her shoulders.
“Do I need to go back?” she asks, horrified at the prospect.
I shake my head in response, and warmth moves back into her blood. Her cheeks shift colors from pale to rosy.
“You talked to them,” she says, fearful.
“Yes, I did.”
Her eyes have questions that her lips are too afraid to ask.
“Nothing changed. You’ll stay with me. I’ll negotiate the terms of your marriage with Stefano Varela.”
At once, she seems to have morphed into a pile of desperation. Her lips begin to tremble as her eyes fill up with tears.
“It won’t happen, Lani. Calm down.”
“How?”
I see the word on her lips, but her voice never comes.
“How can it not happen?”
“You don’t need to worry about the how. I’ll handle that. You just need to pay attention and follow my instructions.”
“What do I need to do?”
She seems to be brimming with life again.
“Right now? Nothing. Consider the time we have as your two weeks of vacation. We’ll do things. Talk things. I’ll get you ready for him.”
Her eyebrows slide up.
“Not in the sense you think.”
“What if…?”
I wait for her to gather her thoughts.
“What if this man catches up to what you’re up to and takes me away from you by force?”
“Over my dead body,” I say quickly before I calibrate my voice.
“That will never happen. I’ve put guardrails in place so you are fully protected.
On a second note, I’ll set the wedding date for sometime next month.
He’s in a hurry, and so am I. The wedding will happen in New York.
He doesn’t know that yet, but he has no reason not to agree with it. I’ll walk you down the aisle.”
“Callum?”
Her eyes burn as if she has a fever.
Her cheeks, too.
“I don’t want to be that man’s bride.”
“You won’t. You’ll dress for me,” I say with a smile. “And no blood will stain your dress. I promise.”
She gets my dark humor, so she smiles, blushing at the same time.
“He won’t lay a finger on you,” I say seriously this time, and a few moments pass as we both listen to the birds outside.
“No one will touch you, Leilani. Not as long as I’m alive. And I’m planning to live a very long life.”
Her eyes sparkle with tears, her emotions overflowing as she struggles to keep her chin from trembling.
“Please don’t die,” she says quietly.
“I won’t.”
“So what will happen in the end?”
I look down, smiling, her eyes on me.
“We’ll both be free people.”
When I look up, a tear trickles down her cheek. I lift my hand to her face and wipe it away with my thumb.
Her skin is smooth and warm.
“But not free from this life,” she says.
“Probably not. I, for one, won’t be for sure.”
“What about me?”
Her gaze stays locked with mine as I look into her eyes.
“You’ll have the option to choose,” I say, watching her get flooded with emotions again. “You’ll have a beautiful life. I can promise you that.”
She can no longer speak, so I take her hand, press it into my cheek, and then kiss her palm.
She smells like flowers and the strawberries she just ate with a pinch of vanilla-scented powdered sugar.
“I brought you some clothes from Nona,” I say, lowering her hand from my face.
“Please don’t stop,” she says, rushed, ignoring what I just said about Nona.
I lift her hand to my lips and kiss her smooth skin again, and she becomes a small fire on the mouth of Etna, about to overflow with heat for me.
Her reaction makes me warm, and I know I need to break away from her and leave her alone, or I won’t be able to control myself.
More than ever now, I understand her mystique, the spell she puts on men.
What I don’t understand is why they all had to mistreat her. I don’t even want to think about the one who had her body under his.
I can’t say I haven’t thought about it.
I can’t stop thinking about it.
Could’ve been someone in the house? Someone in their circle? Someone she had picked out of spite?
They already touched her in ways that shouldn’t have been allowed. The question is, who had fully had her?
It’s better if I don’t know, or they’ll end up with a bullet in their head.
I squeeze her hand gently.
“What about you check that suitcase, find something nice to wear, and we go shopping for something new?” I say, watching her eyes glint like distant stars.
“Are you serious?”
“I surely am. Let’s explore this town. We have plenty of time to do that.”
I move my eyes to her plate.
“Are you done eating?”
“Yes, I am,” she says, her hand still in mine.
She looks at her plate, then at me, and quickly ponders something before she shifts in her seat, leans closer to me, wraps an arm around my neck, and presses her lips against my cheek, this time dangerously close to mine, sending a flash of heat through my body.
She stays there, lips next to mine, her breath searing my face, her body oozing heat against mine.
My arm snakes around her, and through the delicate cotton fabric, I feel her body pulsing with life.
Warm and eager to know more about me and this life.
I’m almost afraid to move my fingers. For fear of arousing her and myself, and ending everything in a way that both of us might regret.
But she still lingers…
And I relish her proximity and how she wraps her soul around mine like an ivy of tenderness.
She’s so starved for attention and love that I’d surely burn under her touch if she unleashed that blaze onto me.
“Thank you for everything. I love you, Callum. I always have.”
She breaks away from me and rises, her eyes connected with mine, while I stare at her, stunned.
A smile curls her lips as she says a few more words.
“I’ll be ready in a minute.”
Smoothly, she spins around and lets me enjoy her barefoot walk, her naked body barely visible through the long nightgown.
It’s still more than enough to awaken the type of raw craving I never thought I had in me.
Her hair almost touches her waist, and when she steps through the next door, the light highlights the gap between her thighs.
My blood starts howling, pooling fast between my legs, making me watch her with a full hard-on, which also makes me feel guilty and hungry for her.
This could be the greatest thing of all.
It could also be the end of us.