CHRISTIAN/STELLA
CHRISTIAN
Italy was a strange dichotomy of calm and chaos. I spent my days visiting local landmarks and shopping with Stella and my nights monitoring the situation in D.C. after she fell asleep.
I’d called in a favor and asked Alex to keep an eye on things for me while I was gone. He didn’t have any unusual updates for me, but I remained on edge. My gut told me something was brewing on the horizon and that I damn well wouldn’t like what it was.
Until I had a clearer picture of what I was up against, however, there was nothing I could do.
I pushed thoughts of D.C. out of my mind as Stella and I walked down a winding street in Positano. It was nearing sunset, and pastels painted the sky in a soft palette of pinks, purples, and oranges.
We were in week three of our Italy trip, and we’d left the cities behind for the seaside charm of the Amalfi Coast. We’d wound our way through Salerno and Ravello and arrived in Positano yesterday. Next was Sorrento, followed by our last stop in Capri.
A smile played on my mouth as Stella tipped her head back with a dreamy expression.
She was always beautiful, but in Italy, freed from the pressures of the city and the lurking threat of her stalker, she was a different person. Happier, more playful and carefree, even compared to Hawaii.
I twined my fingers through hers when we resumed walking toward a viewpoint for sunset. I normally hated hand-holding, but I could make the occasional exception. We were on vacation, after all.
“So, does Italy live up to your expectations?” I asked.
“Nope.” An impish smile appeared at my raised brow. “It’s exceeded them. This place is…” She sighed. “Incredible. I mean, look at it.”
My smile blossomed into a grin when she released my hand and twirled. Her white dress flared around her thighs, and the setting sun gilded her skin with gold.
She looked so content and at peace I wished I could keep us here forever, ensconced in a bubble and untouched by the dangers that lurked back home.
“I’d rather look at you,” I said.
Stella stopped in front of me, breathless from her spin. Her gaze locked onto mine, and the summer air grew heavier between us, sweet with the scents of lemon verbena and sunshine.
“For someone who claims he’s not a romantic, you say the most romantic things.” She plucked a petal from a nearby flowering tree and tucked it into the pocket of my linen shirt. “I’m onto you, Christian Harper. Beneath that hard, cynical exterior…” She pressed her hand flat against my chest. “You’re a softie at heart.”
I would’ve laughed had she not been half right.
Only for you.
I lifted her hand and curled mine protectively around it.
“If you tell anyone, I’ll have to kill them.” I smiled to soften the statement, even though I wasn’t joking.
In my world, weakness was unacceptable, and she was the greatest weakness I had.
Stella gave me an exasperated look. “You always have to bring death into it.”
I laughed.
We continued walking until we reached the viewpoint. Nestled high in the hills and hidden from tourist traffic, it offered a perfect view of the pastel buildings and deep blue sea below.
Stella rested her head on my shoulder and stared dreamily at the landscape. “I’m in love with this place.”
I wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her closer. My eyes lingered on the delicate lines of her profile, tracing a path from the stray dark curls billowing around her face to the sparkle in her eyes and the curve of her lips.
I didn’t care much for art, but if I could immortalize her in that moment as a painting, I would.
The setting sun cast a gorgeous glow over the island, but I didn’t bother looking at the view. I kept my gaze on Stella.
“Me too.”
* * *