“Bruh, that’s some serious guilt trip.”
Dan chuckles. “How about me and your mum pick you up Monday and I promise to make it not suck?” He nods his head and I hear him whisper. “Your mum’s kinda lonely in the week. It gets her out of the house.”
“Sure.”
“So who’s your favourite player at City?”
I switch off as they talk about football and stare out the window as Dan drives through the country roads now we’re out of the city. He keeps saying I betrayed him, but he’s the one who betrayed me. Our whole past was built on a lie. He acted like my guardian angel as he rescued my bag from a thief.
I swear that was staged now. It was the perfect way for us to meet and for him to gain my trust. But he needn’t have bothered going to the trouble. One smile from him and I was smitten. Butterflies would multiply in my stomach every time he looked at me, and once we had our first kiss, I was addicted. He says I’m the spina velenosa, but he drip fed me tidbits like a master training his dog.
He trained me well, too, because I told him whatever it was he wanted to know. His questions about my familyweren’t so obvious, worked into general conversation, so they appeared innocent enough. It was espionage at its finest. And he got his rocks off at the same time. He and his brother probably had a good laugh at my expense. I was so easy in more ways than one.
The sun shines on my face and I close my eyes, transported back in time to the girl who believed in happy endings…
I clutch my book against me while I scan the Villa Borghese, looking for Dan. My heart lurches in my chest as he walks towards me, his smile warm, but the ink on his neck making him seem dark and dangerous.
I lift my phone to my face and check my reflection in the camera, pulling my hair over my cheek on one side. My stomach bubbles with excitement and I rush towards him in the rose garden. We’ve been meeting here every day since I was almost mugged last week.
“Hey, how are you?”
“Better now.” His voice is smooth, dipped in that low timbre that curls around my spine. His gaze trails down to the book in my arms. “Let me guess…Romeo and Julietagain?”
I blush, hugging it tighter. “Don’t judge. It’s for my essay.”
“I’m not judging.” He tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers, walking slowly beside me as we enter the rows of blushing pink blooms. “English literature I’m guessing?”
“Literature class. We study all the greats—Shakespeare, Dante, Virgil. I want to teach literature. Share stories that matter… not just the ones everyone pretends to understand.”
We stroll through the rose garden, gravel crunching under our feet, the scent of blossoms clinging to the warm summer air, my dress fluttering with the breeze.
I peek at his hand near mine, our fingers just inches apart. I don’t mean to, but my pinky sways slightly towards his.
His does the same.
Our fingers brush lightly. The contact sends a flutter through my chest that I feel all the way to my toes.
“So what’s your essay about?” he asks, a small curve lifting the corner of his lips.
“I’m exploring loyalty—how love can pull you away from where you come from.”
Dan hums low in his throat, glancing sideways at me. “You think Juliet made the right choice?”
My fingers trail along the top of the low stone wall beside us. “She followed her heart. She loved Romeo more than her name. More than her bloodline. What other choice did she have?”
He gives me a look. One of those unreadable Dan expressions. “You say that like it’s easy.”
“It’s not.” I shake my head. “It’s painful. Loving someone you shouldn’t. Someone your family would never accept.”
His jaw tightens just slightly.
I keep talking, not daring to stop now. “But love like that… it changes you. Makes you braver. Even if it breaks you.”
We walk in silence for a few paces, our hands brushing at our sides, the leaves rustling softly above us. Then he hooks his little finger around mine like a secret promise whispered between our skin.
My breath halts. This man is still an enigma to me, but our secret meetings have become the highlight of my day. The way he cared for me and rescued my bag, he’s like my guardian angel. An English guardian angel with the most beautiful British accent. It’s no secret that my family would want me to marry an Italian. I wonder if they could ever accept a regular man like Dan.
I hold on to his pinky and smile inwardly at my silly thoughts and how I’m getting ahead of myself, but it’s the hopeless romantic in me. Maybe this is my fairy tale.
