The kitchen is small but perfectly appointed. There's even a little dining nook with a table for two.
"And upstairs," he says, leading me up a narrow staircase to a loft space that takes my breath away.
The bed is king-sized with white linens that look cloud-soft, positioned so I'll wake up every morning to that incredible sea view. There's a reading chair by the window, built-in bookshelves, and enough closet space for someone planning to stay much longer than a few years.
"Enzo, this is too much," I say, running my hand along the smooth wooden headboard. "I can’t accept this as my living arrangement."
"Consider it an investment in our partnership.”
The way he says it makes me wonder if he means a different kind of partnership.
"Bathroom's through here," he continues, and I follow him to what might be the most beautiful bathroom I've ever seen.
Marble and brass fixtures, with a clawfoot tub positioned under a skylight and a shower large enough for two people.Thick, fluffy towels hang from heated racks, and there are expensive-looking toiletries arranged on the vanity.
"Oh my God," I breathe, because after days of cold water and questionable plumbing, this looks like paradise. "Does the water pressure actually work here?"
"Yeah, it works fine."
"This place is incredible. Do you use it often for guests?"
"Family visits occasionally. Or business associates who need somewhere private to stay."
That makes sense. A man like Enzo would need guest accommodations for people who value discretion. Every detail is perfect, from the fluffy bathrobe hanging on the door to the lavender soap that smells like heaven.
"I don't know what to say," I tell him honestly. "This is incredible. Thank you for the offer."
"Take your time and get settled in," he says. "We can talk business logistics tomorrow."
"Are you sure? I feel like I should be working, earning my keep somehow."
"Madison." The way he says my name makes me look up at him. "You've had a rough few days. Today a little time to rest. Consider it a signing bonus."
After he leaves, I spend an hour just wandering around, touching things and trying to convince myself this is really happening.
It's too much.
I realize I need to get my things from Giuseppe's house. I'm about to ask how when there's a knock at the door.
"Ready to go move your stuff?" It's Emilio, Enzo's associate from the other day. Apparently, Enzo had already arranged this.
The drive to my place takes only a few minutes, but it feels strange going back to that broken-down house after seeing where I'll be living now. The contrast is stark, cold, dim rooms with no electricity versus the warm, luxurious cottage I just left.
I pack quickly, throwing my meager belongings into the two suitcases I'd brought. Everything I own fits easily, which seems pathetic when I think about the spacious closets in my new place.
Emilio helps carry the suitcases to the car without comment. The ride back is quiet, but not uncomfortable.
Back at the guest cottage, I spend time unpacking and trying to make the space feel like mine. My clothes look a bit lost in the large, organized closet, and I'll definitely need to go shopping if I want to fill even a quarter of it.
By the time I finish organizing, the sun is starting to set, and I realize I haven't had a proper shower since leaving Seattle.
The bathroom keeps calling to me like a siren song.
I test the water first, just to make sure, and nearly cry with relief when perfect temperature water streams out of the rainfall showerhead. After days of cold water sponge baths, this feels like luxury.
I strip off my clothes and step under the spray, and the sensation is so perfect I actually moan out loud. The water pressure is incredible, the temperature exactly right, and for the first time since arriving in Sicily, I can actually relax.
I take my time with the expensive shampoo that smells like jasmine and body wash that creates amazing lather. The hot water unknots the tension in my shoulders.
