Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“Keep your literal backside and your literal front side to yourself from now on, please. Maybe get a swimsuit that actually covers your ass, while you’re at it. For someone who was hung up on my shirtless chest for so long, you sure as hell changed your tune.”
“It’s Italy.” I shrugged. “I feel like a new woman here.”
“Yeah, well, tell her to cover up, whoever she is.” He scoffed.
I chuckled and looked around. “Have you ever seen such beautiful architecture in your life?”
Wes licked foam from the corner of his mouth. “An earthquake decimated this place back in the late 1600s. Everything had to be rebuilt. All of the intricate ironwork and beautiful designs you see today come from that.”
I raised my brow. “Someone’s been studying the history of Ortigia?”
“I was up for a bit last night reading about it online. Had trouble sleeping.”
“Any particular reason you had trouble sleeping last night?”
“Not one you’d be interested in.” He crushed his empty cup.
I sighed as I sipped the last of my coffee. “Any guesses on how long we’ll be here?”
“No clue. Vince hasn’t given me any guidance on that.”
“Well, just for the record…” I held up my empty cup in a salute. “I’m in no rush to head back.”
“This from someone who didn’t even want to get on the plane.” Wes laughed.
I waved that away. “That was mostly defiance over my father controlling my life. But I’d also forgotten how peaceful it is here. Seriously, why would anyone choose to live where we do when you can live like this every day?”
“Money?” He chuckled. “It’s a little expensive for most people to just take off and live someplace like this. Unless you can find work here, I suppose.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Or in my case…” he continued. “I can’t live where I want because I’m indebted to a mobster for life. I just happened to get lucky when he sent us here.”
“Well, I’m also bound to him for life. So we have that in common.” I sighed. “I don’t know if I’ll have a job to go back to in California. I’m missing so much work being here.”
“Can’t you do some of it remotely? I mean, I would think you can write screenplays from anywhere.”
“I can, but I’m constantly getting called into meetings, and in Hollywood, they like to do everything in person over expensive coffee, so I can only get by for so long being MIA.”
“I hear you…”
We eventually got back on our bikes and returned to the house. I was ready for an afternoon nap when there was a knock at the door.
Wes’s body immediately went rigid. We should’ve been safe here, but it was a bit jarring since we weren’t expecting anyone; we knew no one here.
Wes headed to the door and cautiously opened it. “Can I help you?” he asked.
A woman with dark hair pulled back into a bun stood at the threshold. She held a plate of something. “Ah, you are American. I suspected that,” she said in an Italian accent.
“And you are?” he asked.
“I’m your neighbor, Natalia Romano.”
She seemed safe enough, so I stepped forward and introduced myself.
“I’m Juliette.” I turned to him. “And this is Wes.”
“Are you visiting, or have you moved here?”
“Visiting.” I smiled. “Well, it’s a bit longer than a quick visit, but not permanent, either.”
“An extended stay,” Wes chimed in.
“Well, I wanted to welcome you.” She set the plate on the entry table. “I brought you some bread I baked. Our houses are so close together, it felt wrong not to stop by. There’s rarely anyone here. I know the woman who takes care of the property for the owners, and she mostly just keeps the place clean.”
“Thank you so much for the bread. That’s very kind,” I said. “How long have you lived in the house next door?”
“Only a year. The house belonged to my grandmother. My mother inherited it after Nonna died, and I bought it from Mama. My husband, Mario, owns one of the shops here in the town.”
“Oh, we’d love to visit his store.” I beamed, deciding to keep my own grandmother story private. “What does your husband sell?”
“What doesn’t he sell is more like it—ceramics, jewelry, perfumes…”
“Does he sell one-piece bathing suits?” Wes asked her.
I rolled my eyes.
“Never mind him.” I shook my head. “We’ll definitely check the store out. What’s the name of it?”
“La Conchiglia. It means the seashell in English.”
Wes turned to me. “Maybe we can get you an early anniversary present there.”
I narrowed my eyes. He was pretending to be my partner. We hadn’t discussed how to explain ourselves to people here. And now he’d made the decision for us.
“How long have you two been married?” she asked.
I began to explain, “Oh, we’re not married—”
“We’ve been dating for five years,” Wes interrupted.
“How nice…” She grinned.