"This way," he said, turning and walking back toward the corridor leading to the stables. He heard the soft tread of her feet on the stone floor behind him.
"You better not be giving me a horse, Rodrigo, because the last time I attempted to ride one of the Colleoni pets, it tried to bite me on the ass," she said, humor tinging her voice.
"I can't blame the horse for trying," he replied before he could check himself.
Giana just bumped her shoulder against his. "Hey. Don't flirt with me when I am meant to be mad at you."
"Seems like the best time to flirt with you."
Giana clicked her tongue. "I swear, you have a death wish some days."
Every day until you came back into my life, to be precise.
Rodrigo led her through the dusty quiet of the unused stable block, past empty stalls smelling faintly of hay and ammonia. He stopped before a reinforced door and stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter. "Go on."
Giana hesitated on the threshold, peering into the brightly lit space. Her eyes widened. The rough stone walls had been smoothed and painted a soft, warm white. Large, industrial-style windows let in the sunshine. The concrete floor was covered in overlapping, thick rugs in deep blues and greens.
The centerpiece was a massive reclaimed oak worktable, scarred and beautiful, surrounded by sturdy easels. Shelves lined one wall, filled with paints in every conceivable hue and finish. Brushes of every size and bristle type hung neatly on a magnetic strip. Canvases of various sizes leaned against another wall.
Rodrigo had tracked down the specific brands of the equipment she liked, the pigments she had mentioned favoring in her art school records years ago.
Giana took a tentative step inside, then another, her gaze darting from the paints to the brushes to the canvases. She stopped in the center of the room, turning slowly, her expression unreadable.
Rodrigo followed her in, closing the door softly behind them. He watched her, his heart pounding against his ribs like a trapped bird. This was more terrifying than facing down Vincenzo's entire army.
"What is this?" she whispered, her voice husky.
"It's yours," he said simply. He walked toward the shelves, running a finger along the neatly arranged tubes of paint. "I got the brands you used. The things you preferred. No cameras. Noguards permitted inside. Ever. It's a place just for you. If you want it."
She turned to face him fully, her eyes searching his. "You… You did this? For me?"
"I've had people working on it since I got you back from Izmir." He swallowed, the admission feeling like a confession. "I don't know how long this shit with Vincenzo will last, and I didn't want you to feel trapped here like you did when Gabriella was alive. I wanted to give you somewhere to escape to. Help you forget, even for just a little while."
Giana walked slowly to the massive oak table, running her fingertips over its surface. She picked up a sable brush, testing the weight and spring of the bristles. The silence stretched.
"Why?" she asked finally, her voice barely audible. She didn't look at him, her gaze fixed on the brush in her hand. "After what just happened… after the call, after the office… why show me thisnow?"
Rodrigo took another step closer. He could smell the faint trace of her perfume still rising from her skin, mixed with the clean, sharp scent of the new paints.
"Because I remember the woman who loved to paint storms and fire." He reached out slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. His fingers brushed the curve of her cheek. "And I want to see what you can create when you're free."
Giana's dark eyes were wide, shimmering with a vulnerability that mirrored the terrifying chasm opening inside him. She looked down at the brush in her hand, then back at the shelves, the canvases, the sunlight streaming through the windows.
"Free," she echoed. Her gaze snapped back to his, sharp, assessing. "No cameras? You swear it?"
"I promise," he said and crossed his heart. The small, silly action eased some of the tension from her face.
Her fingers lightly brushed over the stacked canvases. "These shapes. They match the spaces of the walls in the villa."
"I told you I had a particular artist in mind to fill the gaps. You were always my favorite," he said, and loved the way her eyes lit up.
"Is that so? What if I want to only paint nudes?" she asked, her expression turning mischievous.
"All depends." Rodrigo considered, rubbing his chin. "Are they all of you? Because if they are, I'm going to have to put them on my bedroom walls and get you more canvases."
Giana was still laughing as she took his face in her hands and kissed him.
29
