“Sorry.” But there was something in her expression, a hint of wariness that had him wondering. “I rented La Villetta di Pietra for the summer.”
He made a noise of disbelief but the pouring rain devoured it. “That’s five miles away.”
“Is it? So far?”
He stared at her. “You walked here?”
She nodded.
“In the rain?”
Another nod.
That settled it. “You can’t possibly walk back now.”
“The storm should clear soon.”
“It won’t. It isn’t blowing out to sea, it’s settling in.”
“How do you know?” She looked towards the ocean so he had a glimpse of her elegant, swan-like neck, the skin there smooth and golden.
“Experience.” He gestured to his house once more. “Come and wait it out.”
She looked at him thoughtfully, hesitantly. It was an unusual response. Nico was used to women tripping over themselves to be alone with him, but she seemed to be genuinely uncertain.
“It’s a simple neighbourly invitation,” he heard himself promise. “Nothing sinister whatsoever.”
“How do I know that?” Her arched brow held a challenge.
“That I don’t have any bad intentions?”
“Right.”
“You don’t.” His own grin was unknowingly charming. “You’ll have to trust me.”
“I don’t trust easily.”
Admiration shifted inside of him; he recognised the trait and appreciated it. He’d trusted easily once and it had burned him. He didn’t make a habit of it anymore. “Nor do I.”
Her eyes shone like the sea on a sunlit day but when she spoke, the words were swallowed completely by the storm.
“Better to trust me than this weather,” he shouted to be heard.
She bit down on her lower lip then jumped as another slash of lightning burst through the sky. A few seconds later, the accompanying rumble of thunder growled overhead and a strong wind threatened to blow the hat right off her head.
“Just until it passes.”
“Bene.” He nodded approvingly at the resurgence of her common sense, leading the way back to the house. The timber deck was a little slippery so he held a hand out in an offer of support. She ignored it, side-stepping the boots and Dante’s leash with grace and ease, pausing just inside the door while she looked around. Her attention moved through the hall and into the living area, which caused him to do the same, viewing it as if through her eyes. It was unmistakably grand. White marble flooring that gave way to walls of glass framing spectacular views of the ocean in one direction and the countryside in the other. A grand piano sat down the far side of the room, and priceless art adorned the walls.
“Nice place to wait out a storm,” she quipped, lifting her hat off and holding it in her hands. Her nails were bare of colour and cut short.
“Grazie.” The door blew closed with a fierce bang before he could catch it and she flinched, whipping around to face him as though he’d purposefully made the noise. “Sorry,” he lifted his hands, her actions reminding him a little of Dante when he’d first inherited the dog and he’d been wary as a default setting.
“What for?” She covered it so quickly that he wondered if he’d invented her response.
“You’re soaking. Let me get you some clothes,” he offered.
“That’s very thoughtful of you. Thanks.”