She lifted her shoulders. “Then I’ve been exploring most of the day.”
She was probably not a journalist but the likelihood of her being a tiny bit crazy was increasing.
Lightning slashed closer, the bright light dancing towards the sand so Nico swore and gestured to the house. Of the six Montebellos, he was perhaps the most notoriously guarded with his privacy, so he was surprised to hear himself say, “You should wait out the storm here.”
Her smile dropped. “Oh, no,” she shook her head. “I’m fine.”
His eyes narrowed. “Where are you staying?”
Her lips tugged downward into a frown that was bordering on a pout. Mentally, Nico swore. She was somehow even more attractive when she was frowning.
“I’m not planning to stalk you,” he assured her drily, so she laughed.
“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 m
iles 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.