“Help me,” I beg. “Please. Please.”
“Let her go,” he demands of the man behind me.
The man hurting me does as the young one says and walks away without a word. I frown. That was… strange to say the least. The way the man chased me, I wouldn’t have expected him to give up so easily. And yet… he did.
“Thank you,” I breathe out to the handsome man.
His eyes look me over with curiosity. “Who are you?”
“My name is Emma Greco. I need help. I… don’t have anywhere else to go.”
He stands up taller after I say my name, though I’m not sure why. “You need help?”
“I do. But not like that man. I don’t want help like that.”
“What kind of help did you need then?”
“I need water. I’m so thirsty.”
“Then let me get you some water. Come in.” He opens the front door wider. When I hesitate, he smiles and it reaches his eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you. Not like that man.”
My body relaxes a little. “Thank you.” I step foot into the nice, large house. The inside is somehow even nicer than the outside.Dark, hardwood floors and soft lighting. Cream colored walls. A large foyer with a large staircase leading up to a second floor.
The smell of something delicious in the air.
“What is that?” I whisper, my voice echoing through the large space. “That smell.”
“It’s vanilla. Have you never smelled vanilla before?” He points at a small container with a flame in it. “The candle.”
“Candle?” I test the word on my lips. “I’ve never heard of that before.”
He frowns. “You’ve never heard of a candle before?”
I flush. The last thing I should do is give away how naïve I am to the world. I don’t want this man taking advantage of me. “I’ve never used one before.”
“Right.” He looks me over once more, giving me the chance to do the same to him. Black pants and black button down shirt make him look expensive. All of my clothes were ratty and covered in holes and stains from working on the farm. “You don’t look at all like what I expected.”
“What does that mean?”
He shakes his head with a charming smile. “I’m Leo Detti. I hadn’t introduced myself before.” He offers me his hand and I slowly take it. “You haven’t heard of me?”
After a beat, I take my hand away. “Should I have?” Is this man famous?
He chuckles. “No. That was presumptuous of me. Let me get you that glass of water. You can come into the kitchen.” He leads me into a gorgeous kitchen with a soft wood ceiling and beautiful countertops colored white and gold.
“Here.” He pours me a glass from a pitcher he takes out of a large refrigerator. We had a small one growing up. It barely contained any of our food.
I take the glass and chug down the water before I realize what I’m doing.
“Your thirsty,” he comments. “You look like you ran a marathon.”
“I did in a way.”
“Where did you come from?”
The last thing I want to mention is my mother. “From a farm. Far away.”
“And now you’re in the city. For what purpose?”
