“Cristiano.” I walk around the desk, set the pouch on top of it and take his face in my hands, making him look at me. “What the hell are you talking about? What happened that you’re giving me this?”
He takes a deep breath in and just looks at me for a long minute. “I love your eyes, you know that?”
“What happened with your brother?”
“They’re so expressive. So open.”
He’s distracting me but the look in his, something about it breaks my heart. “Only for you.”
He smiles at that but it’s a sad smile. “In your eyes I see the real you. I see inside to your soul. And I feel your heart, Scarlett.” He puts the flat of one hand over my heart and takes hold of mine to place it over his. “I feel you.”
He leans down, kisses my mouth, then pulls me into his chest, trapping my hand between us as he wraps his arms around me. He lays his lips on my forehead before cupping the back of my head to hold me against him and rests his head on top of mine. “I didn’t think this would happen. And now of all things. Fuck my timing.”
I draw back, look up at him. “You didn’t think what would happen?”
He studies me for a long moment.
“What?” I push.
“I didn’t think I would fall in love with a De La Cruz.”
I’m startled. It takes me a long minute to process his words. That single word. Love.
My heart flutters, my belly doing a tumble and I’m still not sure I heard right. Not sure I understand. I reach up to touch the scruff of hair on his jaw. More than two days’ worth now.
“Specifically, I didn’t think I’d fall in love with stubborn as hell Scarlett De La Cruz.” We look at each other, just look at each other. “I love you, Scarlett.”
“I love you, too, Cristiano.”
He wipes away the tear that slips from my eye. I see the shadows under his, dark like he hasn’t rested in days. Years.
“You didn’t sleep.”
He shakes his head.
“What happened with your brother?”
It’s cold when his arms fall away from me. He steps back, sits in his chair and sighs deeply. “I have more enemies than I can count.”
I sit on his lap and slip my hand into his. He takes it, intertwines his fingers with mine and looks at our bound hands.
“I’m not your enemy. And I’m not going anywhere without you, Cristiano,” I say, studying him in profile.
His gaze meets mine. “If it comes to it, you are.” He sets me on my feet and stands up again. He’s anxious, I feel it. “I want to show you something,” he says and, keeping my hand in his, we leave the study. We stop to put on jackets before walking out of the house and into the overcast, windy day.
“I need to talk to you actually,” I start, almost forgetting the reason I needed to talk to him.
“Later,” he says, keeping hold of my hand as we climb the steep rocks to the west of the island. The wind is stronger here and I duck my head against it, shivering in the cooler temperature as clouds overtake the sun completely.
“Where are we going?” I ask once we’ve crested the hill. The wind is stronger here. Almost violent. I have to keep pushing the hair off my face and I won’t let go of his hand for fear I’ll be blown away.
“There,” he says.
I see what he’s pointing to a little distance ahead of us. My mouth falls open because there, built into the rock face is a mausoleum.
“It’s carved into the stone,” he starts as we reach the foreboding front face. “The façade is marble. My grandfather added on to it. You can see the difference in the veining. He couldn’t get exactly the same.”
“I’ve never seen anything like this.” It’s large, taking up the entire side of the rock here. And I can see where the addition was made. It’s beautiful and eerie at once. “Is it always this windy up here?”
He points to the darker clouds in the distance. “There’s a storm coming.” We walk up the steps leading to the huge, metal door. He looks back down at me. “Are you scared?”
I look from the door up to him. “Not with you.”
He smiles.
“But I wouldn’t come up here alone in the dead of night or anything,” I add as a sudden chill makes me shudder.
“That’s wise,” he says with a smile pulling me to him momentarily, big hand warm on my back. “More for the cliff than the dead. You have nothing to fear from the ghosts of my family.” He turns to the door before finishing the sentence and pushes it open. It’s heavy. I can tell from the effort it takes. Cristiano ushers me inside as it creaks.