Tempest - Book 1

- 4 -

It had been a week since I had arrived at Luca's home.

There had been a myriad of gifts left at my door. A plethora of luxurious creams and lotions. Fine clothes and invaluable handbags. This morning I had been offered a heavy canister of La Mer skin cream. It felt like sex melting into my skin.

I had to admit, I found an escape in the creature comforts of his generosity. It was the only way that I felt any sentience of normalcy. It was wrong, and it was vile. But it was the only thing that numbed the constant thrum of hurt. I hadn't slept, spending my nights churning in the sea of silk like a ship on stormy waters. Whenever I closed my eyes all I could see was the horrifying reality of my life. I snapped myself out of my faltering conscious as I tightened my hands around my mug. I was nursing an exquisite Jade tea, soft steam encompassing my face. Nestled into a great wicker chair, I watched Luca as he glistened from hard sweat. This was my routine now, skirting on his perimeter, watching.

I think he liked that.

He took a moment from his exercises, chest heaving slightly. He offered me a smile. I retreated into the shield of my tea. He came to stand beside me, the deep musk of his sweat piqued my senses.

"How are you this morning, bella?"

I gave him a satisfactory shrug of my shoulders.

"I'm fine, another sleepless night."

His face was displeased at my candor.

"I will see what I can do about that."

His fingers tips grazed my scalp, his favorite thing to do.

"You are healing quite nicely."

"Still a little tender."

He smirked.

"I do apologize for that."

Another shrug.

"I must get back to my training. If you'd like, Imelda is working in the garden. She quite enjoys your company."

"I think I might join her."

His hand dropped from my face and he sauntered back, his eyes stealing quick glances at me.

I watched for a while more as my tea depleted. As much as I should detest this man, I couldn't resist the tempestuous urge to consume his powerful presence. He commanded the room, always impeccably dressed and sharp witted. His style was refined, polished. Sexy. His body was toned and that face so devilishly handsome.

Today he had the faintest ghost of stubble that cast over his squared jaw. I liked the imperfections of him the most, though they were seldom.

Like now, his dark hair fell into those eyes, and the sweat rolled down his muscled back into the soaked black waistband of his shorts. I let my eyes linger to his defined hamstrings and calves, hungrily taking in the broad curve of his ass. I could feel the blush gallant up my throat, my cheeks.

I excused myself with the feelings of delicious guilt.

Around the courtyard from where we were sequestered was a grand infinity pool, hugging the picturesque beauty of the Tyrrhenian Sea. From there you walked a winding sandstone path to a bountiful garden filled with exotic flowers and perfectly quaffed topiaries. Standing here, I could see Imelda twirling about, her red and white skirt billowing cheerfully around her. She wore a broad straw sun hat, and a sleeveless white top.

I could hear her singing. When she saw me she waved.

"Yelena my love! Come join me."

I brushed past the pink hibiscus that guarded the garden gate.