It was why he lived on the boat moored off the shore ten minutes’ walk away.
Close to hand for the business, but on the water in a way that soothed everything inside him. When Paul had destroyed their business, other than wrecking his faith in humanity, what had hurt the most was his dream—to live on the sea as he was doing now—had been pushed even further into the background.
His goals had had to be put on the backburner until he’d paid back the clients Paul had stolen from.
Now, however, he was living that goal in a different way than he’d intended all those years ago, but still, it didn’t matter. He was on the water. That was all that counted…
A sentiment April seemed to share.
Her eyes were sparkling as he neared the house, and he could sense she wasn’t mad at his amusement when he’d laughed at her antics. Her gaze flickered between him and the sea, and he had to admit, he grew to like her more for her simple love of the view.
Of course, he expected her adoration to expand and widen when she looked behind her at her accommodation for the next week and a half.
The villa was his pride and joy.
A square farmhouse, he’d managed to retain all its old character while modernizing to appeal to the American market. And it was most definitely the Americans he was trying to appeal to. Not just the high-end market, either. He’d accept anyone in his house, so long as their money was good.
The verandah had been falling down when he’d returned to the property after many years of not visiting, but now, it was wide and broad, made from stone and shaded by a thick canopy that took some of the boiling heat away from the midday sun. It was covered in fine mesh to keep out the mosquitoes, but he’d left the door open earlier so that was a bust for the moment—the insects were the sole plague on this little island of paradise.
There were several seating areas out on the deck. A cluster of rocking armchairs, sleek and luxurious—they’d cost him a goddamn fortune too. Then, there was a table for dining al fresco, and another sofa with comfortable lounger chairs for hanging out and taking in the magnificent view.
The sea was too close to not overwhelm everything else, and from here, the vantage point was beyond compare.
He placed her cases inside the verandah, then closed the door behind him. “Keeps the bugs out,” he explained shortly, but he softened it with a smile as he carried on, “So, this is the house, April.”
She smiled. “So it is. It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re the owner, right?” She grimaced. “I know you told me your name but I was just…” Her gaze flickered back to the ocean. “In awe, really. It’s Luca, right?”
He nodded. “That’s me.” He cleared his throat as he waved a hand around and figured that selling her the place would be something better done sooner rather than later. He didn’t intend on seeing her again for the duration of her trip, after all. “I’ve spared no expense in making this place a luxurious pied a terre.”
“I can see that,” she commented softly. “And with views like those?” She whistled under her breath. “I’m amazed by them alone. Everything else should be superfluous, however, I’m not my clients.” April grimaced. “They’re a lot fussier than me. But so far,” she waved a hand, “It more than lives up to the brochure.”
He beamed at her, feeling a little more grounded now he had her opinion.
He’d been nervous, he’d admit. Now, he felt like he could calm some.
Perhaps she wasn’t a spoiled LA brat. She loved the views, loved the verandah.
This could only get better.
3
The villa was amazing.
Seriously, AH-Mazing. Like, she’d never seen anything like it in her life, amazing.
It was gawkworthy. It was epic. Not even Natasha freaking Bayeau would be able to find a damn thing to complain about.
But that was nothing in comparison to the owner.
Surly, grumpy, but dear Lord, so hot she needed to fan herself.
What the man did to a pair of old jeans should be illegal she thought an hour later when he’d wandered off after having shown her every inch of the property that was her home for the next ten days.
Ten days, eek!