“Lake came to the island on our digital nomad employment visa. She was mugged on our streets, her passport stolen. When she applied for a job, she was honest enough to tell me she needed a place to stay. The guest house was vacant. It made sense.”
“Only to you,” he says calmly.
Val shakes her head disapprovingly. “You won’t let Leo go to school, but you want him to receive a top-notch education and speak five languages by the time he’s nine. This is how it will happen, brother. A live-in governess.”
“She’s a journalist, Val,” he says.
“A travel blogger at best,” Val corrects him.
Suddenly, a detrimental urge to defend my journalistic skills comes over me. But I’m too terrified to argue with Alessio, so my fear of conflict saves my life. Yet again. A travel blogger is less threatening than a journalist.
“There are other ways Leo can receive the education I wish him to have.” Alessio stands from the bar chair and finishes his espresso. “Ms. Wilder,” he says in a voice that makes me stand up. I’ve never enlisted, but I imagine this is how boot camp works. He’s the sergeant, and he looks at me.
Finally looks at me. Blinks. His jaw slackens slightly, his mouth opening as if it might hit the floor.
He recognized me. Yup. Yes, he did.
Here we go. Mentally, I buckle up.
“What?” Val asks. “What’s going on? Do you know her?”
“Ms. Wilder.” He says my name as if caressing my nipples with his thumbs.
My name from his lips feels like he dropped a kiss between my legs. Heat crawls up my cheeks. I am so embarrassed by how quickly he can make me remember the things he did to me in the bar and in the hotel room. I’ve never had a man fuck me like that before. Never. I need to try to forget about it.
Alessio points down the hallway as if I’m his hunting dog. “My office.”
I glance at Val, whose cheeks are getting rosier.
“What is it?” she asks.
“I know this woman.” He glares at me. “Did you hear what I said?”
Leo’s watching, so I smile at him, reassuring him that everything is okay, even though the boy can clearly sense that something isn’t.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell him.
He looks away.
“Now,” Alessio snaps.
I scurry past him and enter Alessio’s office. I should probably sit, but I can’t. I’ve run this very scenario through my head a million times so that when it happens, I’m prepared to not only defend myself, but also persuade him to let me stay. Now that it’s happening, now that Alessio’s footsteps are closing the distance between the kitchen and the office, my brain goes vacant.
Zero thoughts. Double-zero thoughts. I’ll burn seven ways from Sunday.
Alessio walks into the office and closes the door behind him. He approaches the windows and draws down the blinds, then crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against his desk.
“What are you doing in my house?”
NINE
GET PACKING, SUNSHINE
Alessio
“Please let me explain,” my uncomplicated, fantastic one-night-stand woman says.
“By all means,” I tell her. “That’s exactly what I’m looking for.”
