“I asked if you’d be open to staying at a friend’s house. Grace has just pinged his number through and warned him I might message.”
I shrug. “What like… for free?”
Gus nods. “I know that means you can’t make as much interest off me,” he teases.
“I don’t want your interest!” But something about that statement doesn’t ring true, so I change it. “I’m not taking any interest from you. Financially speaking.”
I didn’t need to clarify.
His lips quirk then flatten. Gosh. Damn. I’m acting like a tit and he’s so onto me. “Devaney owes me. The least he can do is put us up for the night.”
“But me too? I mean, I can stay in a hotel. It might have to be a hostel as my funds are running low.”
Gus tilts his head at me. “Really?”
“What?”
“We’re in this together now. Look at us. Still alive. In a city we weren’t even meant to be in, having the time of our lives.”
He’s not wrong, because I do not regret visiting Pompeii. I’ve seen more of Italy in a day than I probably would’ve on the whole cruise. But… I’d prefer him not to know this. His ego is showing. “I don’t know if eating pizza right next to a bin whilst we watch angry Italians throw hands at each other is the time of my life.”
“Sara, are you coming with me or not?”
“Ok, yes. But I really hope your friend isn’t weird.”
“Only if he drinks tequila.”
“Oh. We have that in common.”
Twenty-OneCruise Location – TaorminaNext Port – RomeTime of Arrival – 10:00 (GMT+1)
The train from Naples to Rome is smooth. I try to make Gus take the window seat for extra security, but he insists on giving it to me, wrapping one of his new t-shirts over his head to hide his face. He throws his head back, his breathing softening as he drifts off to sleep, the lights down low in this carriage, then I ceremoniously fall asleep on him too, head pressed against his firm bicep.
Am I tempting fate?
I don’t know because I’m too tired to care and he didn’t object to me using him as a human pillow before, so why not now?
It only takes an hour and a half on the high-speed train, a fantastic idea on Gus’s part but because we left Napoli late, we arrive in Rome near midnight.
Thankfully the city is still alive, the streets brimming with people enjoying themselves in the cooler shadows of the night. Gus managed to reach his friend before the train left, who sent the address to his villa. We catch a taxi from the station and find ourselves at a set of large wooden gates fifteen minutes later. He’s on a tidy, ivy-strewn streetwith expensive security systems and fancy cars.
Gus presses the buzzer, then waves and smiles at the camera pointing down at us from the roof.
A crisp American voice asks, “What do you want?”
“Let me in dickhead,” Gus responds, still smiling.
I feel my eyebrows rise. Oh, so they’refriendfriends. The gate hums and Gus opens it, signalling for me to lead the way. The courtyard behind the gates is full of Italian Cypress trees, with a marble water feature of a woman draped in cloth sitting proudly in the centre, trickling peacefully, shutting out some of the city noise beyond. A stone-paved path leads to a set of decorative glass doors.
Gus steps past me, offering me his arm for support. I don’t know if I look as beat as I feel, but right now, on my level of exhaustion, and my ankle right on the brink of giving up, this gesture does unseemly things to my core. I quietly link my arm through his and let him guide me.
A tall, indecently handsome, dark-skinned man greets us in the hallway. I blink several times, trying to place him. I know this man.
He’s talking to me, but my brain is still tripping over itself trying to place him. Then finally, it clicks. “Oh my God! You’re Cole Devaney! I’m in love with you!”
“What?” Gus scoffs, making a face. “Ignore her. She’s spacing out from exhaustion. Delirious. Nobody loves you.”
“I do! I love him.” I squeal.
