“And this was the room where he would have his orgies,” he says, gesturing to a large stretch of dry earth and crumbled stone that overlooks the sea.
“Orgies?”
He grins at me, taking off his jacket. The muscles in his arms flex as he folds it, his skin so bronze against the white of his T-shirt. It really is getting hot out and I’m sorry I wore skinny jeans, even though they made the most sense on the bike.
“Yes, orgies. You know, many people having sex together.”
I give him a look. “I know what an orgy is, smart-ass.”
“From personal experience?”
I bite my lip and reach out, punching him in the shoulder. “Hey, you watch it.”
“I’m watching,” he says, and his eyes lock on my body. “Very closely.” His voice drops.
I am so close to opening my mouth and teasing him along the lines of, Don’t you know you’re being inappropriate in the workplace? to laugh off his comments but I don’t want to call attention to them in case they really are inappropriate. In fact, I just want him to keep saying things.
But of course I don’t know how to keep the banter going so I turn away and pretend to busy myself with the view.
“Have I embarrassed you?” he asks, stepping in front of me, close to me, so I have to look at him.
Oh God. This damn heat is getting to me. How many times in one day can a girl blush?
“No,” I tell him, lying through my teeth.
“That’s too bad,” he says. “I like it when you blush. You look like a tomato. With hair.” He reaches out and puffs up a few strands. Then he whistles, hands in his pockets, and walks away.
This playful side of him is new but I like it. It just proves that there’s more to this man than distance and moodiness. I wonder what other sides I will uncover in time.
And then I realize I don’t really have that much time left. A month has passed already. Suddenly, the last thing I want to do is leave. I feel like I’ve only just gotten started here, just gotten past the first barriers with Derio and the children. I can’t imagine having to go in a month, back home to the mundane, where no one thinks I’m worth anything.
There has to be a way to stay without risking deportation, but I don’t know what it is.
As if sensing my mood change, Derio stops and looks at me curiously. “What is it?”
I blink my eyes a few times, trying to snap out of it. “Nothing.”
He frowns and motions for me to come join him. He’s heading toward a lookout where a few tourists are standing, snapping pictures of the bright blue sea.
I stand beside him, ever cautious about the railing of the lookout. I stand back and try to peer over without committing myself. The drop doesn’t seem too steep, and I can see that the mountainside is terraced with thick tree canopies. The view is stupendous.
“Let me take a photo of you,” he says. He holds out his hand and wiggles his fingers, gesturing for my phone. “I haven’t seen you take many aside from selfies with the kids.”
He’s right. It’s been all selfies, all the time. I even tried to get Alfonso to take a few pics but he didn’t know the first thing about flattering angles. As I hand my phone over to Derio, I wonder if he’ll do the same thing.
“Smile,” he says and I do. “No, no,” he says, even though he’s still taking pictures. “That is not a real smile. I’ve seen your real smile.”
“You have not,” I tell him, even though I do feel that real smile creeping across my face now.
“That is better,” he says, coming forward with such intense focus that he reminds me of the paparazzi. “But not quite there. Think of something funny. Perhaps me, in my underwear, being attacked by a cat.”
And now I am thinking about him in his underwear. But not being attacked by my cat, although I can think of a few double entendres about pussy to throw back at him.
“Ah, the tomato face,” he says. “Bellissima.”
I roll my eyes and try to hide my face behind my hair. “All right, that’s enough, give me my camera.”
“One more,” he says, bringing out his phone now. “For me.”
And then he snaps a photo just as I’m making a face . . . I don’t know what face I’m making. I feel put on the spot, annoyed but also sincerely flattered that he wants a photo of me on his phone. He nods at my hair. “With the sun behind you like so, you look like an angel.”
“Not a lion?”
“You are definitely both, la mia angelo e la mia leonessa.”
Now I’m really smiling, like a damn schoolgirl.
Another one of those heady moments passes between us and his eyes crinkle at the corners, softening. It could be from the glare of the sun but maybe it’s something else.
He clears his throat and looks unsure of himself for a moment. Then he says, “Would you like to get a drink somewhere? At a bar?”
I nod, feeling absolutely parched. Lubrication is needed pronto, though definitely not between my legs. I don’t think I’ve stopped being turned on by him yet.
“I know just the place.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Fifteen minutes later, Derio pulls the motorbike up to the side of the Irish bar where Shay works. It’s one in the afternoon so she should be on duty, or at least I hope she is. I’ve been wanting her to meet Derio so she can get to know him and see how handsome he is. I want her to look past all the terrible things that Lenora said about him. Even though I know now that some of those things are true, she didn’t know the circumstances.