I was no longer alone.
Yet today, I felt it. The storms and rain came harder in this region during this time of year, and there was a good chance of snow toward Christmas. Caresa and I had decided that on days like today, she should not come to me so late at night. As I checked the window again, seeing the rain had not yet let up, I knew she wouldn’t.
But I needed to see her. The memory of my father’s last hours, and Zeno’s strange arrival at my vineyard today, had set my mind racing.
And I didn’t want to be alone.
I threw on my boots and headed to the door. A white rose lay on the side table in the living room. I had retrieved it today for when Caresa came to me tonight.
She wouldn’t be coming, so I would take it to her.
Tucking the rose into my shirt, I stepped out into the rain. Within minutes I was drenched, so I walked, not bothering to run, along the dark track toward Caresa’s rooms. She had told me which rooms were hers, and that a private balcony led straight to her door.
I arrived at the stairs of her balcony unseen and climbed my way to her door. Through the slightly open drapes, in the dull lamplight, I saw Caresa, sleeping in a large four-poster bed. She was so beautiful that I didn’t even care if the rain had soaked me through. It had been worth it just to see her like this.
Lifting my hand, I tapped on the glass of the door. I was quiet, so as not to draw attention, but loud enough that it would hopefully rouse Caresa from sleep. Caresa’s dark eyes fluttered open and fell in the direction of the tapping—they fell directly on me.
She blinked in confusion before a wide smile graced her lips, and she leaped from the bed. She padded over to the door and pulled back the drape. I gazed at her through the glass. She was wearing a short silk nightdress, and, even with her usually perfect hair in slight disarray, she was flawless. I couldn’t believe she was mine.
The lock turned on the door, and Caresa opened it quietly, a look of disbelief on her face. Before she could speak, I reached into my now-sopping shirt and brought out the rose. It was wet too, the petals limp. I shrugged as I handed it over. “It looked better before the rain.” I couldn’t help the small smile that pulled on my lips when Caresa covered her mouth to mute her sudden laugh.
She took the flower and held it to her chest. “I love it,” she whispered. “Limp or not.”
Reaching down with her free hand, she took hold of mine and guided me inside. I ducked into her room, and my eyes widened as I took in the size. This was just her bedroom, yet it was at least twice the size of my entire cottage. Paintings in gold frames adorned the walls, and the rich hardwood floors were covered in expensive rugs.
Caresa ducked her head. “Achille?”
I glanced down at my wet clothing. Caresa tried to coax me forward, but I stayed in my place. “I’m soaking,” I said, backing toward the door. “This room . . . I should go. I just wanted to see you and give you the rose.” I dropped my head. “I . . . I missed you tonight.”
“Hey,” Caresa said and placed her hands on my face. “You’re not leaving. You just got here.” She glanced behind us to a set of doors that I assumed must lead to yet another room. “The doors are locked from inside. No one can come in. No one ever comes in anyway. We won’t be caught.”
I felt out of place in this room, in this mansion. In all the years I had lived on the land, I had never once been inside. Other winemakers had been here, at dinners and such, but my father and I had never been invited.
“My clothes are too wet. I don’t want to mess up the room,” I said. Rainwater was already pooling at my feet.
Caresa glanced down at the expanding puddle and stepped closer. “Then let’s get you out of them.”
I followed her to the bathroom. Like her bedroom, it was opulent and extravagant, all white marble and gold finishes. I stopped beside the bathtub, and Caresa placed a towel on the floor. I stepped onto the plush white towel and shook my head. Water dripped down my face. “What is it?” Caresa asked as her hands began unsnapping the buttons on my shirt.
“Nothing,” I said hoarsely as she peeled my shirt from my back and discarded it in the tub. Her rooms, although vast, were warm. Her gentle hands fell to the waistband on my jeans. She snapped open the modified button, pulled down the zipper, then pushed the jeans down my legs until I was naked. Her hands ran up the damp skin of my legs, my waist and my stomach. I hissed as she leaned in and pressed a single kiss to the middle of my chest.
She took another towel and dried every inch of my bare skin. And as she did, I couldn’t stop staring at her face. If I hadn’t already known she loved me, I would have known in that moment. The way she silently cared for me. The way she cherished my body. The way she rose onto her tiptoes and ruffled the towel through my wet hair. She took the towel off my head and smoothed back my hair that had fallen in front of my face. “There,” she said reverently. “Now I can see those beautiful blue eyes I adore so much.”
God, I loved her too.
She tied another dry towel around my waist, took my hand and led me to her bed. It was huge, twice the size of my bed. When I had arrived at her door tonight and seen her sleeping, all I could think was that she looked so small. The woman who owned my heart drowning in a sea of white.
Caresa climbed in and held up the comforter for me to climb in too. I dropped the towel and shuffled forward until I was in her arms. I closed my eyes as my head lay over her chest.
Her heart beat quickly.
“Is everything okay?” she asked as she stroked her hand over my forehead.
I held her a little closer. “I needed to see you. I . . .” I swallowed, trying to chase away the remaining sadness. “I kept thinking of my father tonight . . . of when he died.” Caresa held her breath. It was the first time I had ever mentioned his passing to her. “I kept thinking of things he had said. I kept thinking of how weak and frail he was.” I sucked in a quick breath. “I . . . I needed you. I . . . I didn’t want to be alone . . . not tonight.”
“Achille,” Caresa whispered, shifting on the bed until she lay on her pillow opposite me. She held my hand in the space between us. Her grip on my fingers was iron tight. “Then I’m happy you came,” she said and bowed her head to lay a kiss over my knuckles. In an instant, I felt better. Just being beside her, being in her presence, was all the balm my soul needed to heal.
“I’m glad I came too.” I looked around the room. “It’s good to see where you stay when you’re not with me.”
“You have never been in the mansion?”
“No.” I shook my head and couldn’t help the smile that appeared on my lips. “I feel very out of place here. I’m afraid I’ll break something priceless.”
Caresa shifted closer still, her warm body pressing against mine. “The only thing in this room that is priceless to me is you. So you don’t have to worry.”
“I love you.” I brought my lips against hers.
“I love you,” Caresa said when she pulled away.
We lay there in silence for a while, content to just stare at each other.
“The prince came to see me today,” I said.
The shock was evident on Caresa’s face. “Zeno came to your vineyard?”
I nodded. “He said he wanted to get to know the winemakers on his land more. Wanted to understand the products better.” I thought back to us sharing a coffee, of how awkward he was. “He seemed different to when we were children. The same in some ways, but . . . different.”
Caresa’s brow furrowed. “When you were children? You knew Zeno as a child?”
Exhaling a long breath, I said, “He was my best friend. Zeno was the only friend I ever really had. He would come to Bella Collina in the summer, and we would play on the tracks and in the nearby woods. We would fish and ride bikes.” I shrugged. “Then, one day, he just stopped coming around. I asked my father if I could come to the mansion and ask where he was, why he didn’t want to be my friend anymore, but my father told me to leave it be.” I blinked away the memory. “I never spoke to Zeno again until today. He took me by surprise. I never thought I’d ever speak to him again in my life.”