Page 42 of Captive Heart

His green eyes seem to see right through me, illuminating all my dark, hidden depths.

“Mm,” he says at last, a frown tugging his mouth down. “Well then, lass. I have someone for ye to meet. He has ink and contact paper. But I would rather ye see it first-hand rather than just trust it. He’s charging exorbitant prices, but ye never know with men like him.”

I nod slowly, sipping more coffee. “When?”

He glances at his wristwatch. “Now is as good a time as any. We can stop for some real coffee on the way. Plus, it’s too early for crowds.”

I stretch my neck to the side, pulling a face. I don’t particularly want to leave the relative safety of the villa. But at least leaving will give me a reason to tidy away the iPad and its’ chiming.

“Okay. Give me a minute to get dressed.”

Picking up my iPad, I head into the bedroom that Hades had set up for me. Tossing the device onto the bed, I stretch again and head into the villa’s walk-in closet.

Like the island mansion, this villa has a closet of beautiful, expensive clothes already curated for me. I’m not sure who was in charge of the wardrobe choices… but they have sleek dresses in solitary colors, trendy black jumpsuits, cashmere sweaters, and even ballet flats and stiletto heels in just my size.

Pulling on a long white silk dress and a pair of plain black flats, I pull my hair up into an elegant pile on the back of my head and pin it into place. The scoop neck of the dress suggests that I should wear some jewelry, perhaps. But whoever picked my clothes out apparently did not think to buy anything decorative.

Wrinkling my nose a little, I sigh and flounce out of the bedroom. Hades is frowning at his nails rather impatiently near the front door. When he hears me approaching, he straightens. His expression tightens when he sees me, his eyes traveling from my face down to my chest, his nostrils flaring slightly.

My neck gently flushes as I feel his eyes roaming my body. I clench my right fist, a flare of exquisite awareness shuddering across my bare skin.

“Ready?” I ask. My voice is too high and my tone too bright.

He clears his throat and I notice the way his big hands clench into fists. “Aye.”

Hades holds open the front door. I step outside, wincing at the sunlight. Already the entire world is sticky with brightness and it’s only a bit past eight in the morning. The heat hasn’t quite kicked in yet, but I have no doubt that it will as the morning progresses.

Hades reaches in his pocket and offers me a white leather pouch. I take it, squinting, only to find a pair of sunglasses.

“Ah,” I murmur. I put them on, looking at him. “Thanks.”

He gives me the faintest smirk as he slides on his own sunglasses. “Come on.”

He leads me out through the gates. We head down the hill. I am alert, watching for signs of a crowd. But he was right; it’s too early for most people, it seems.

We walk back down toward the sea. Hades takes us on a slightly different path than we took previously. Still the beautiful light blue of the sea stands out against the multitude of white and off white sandstone buildings and their distinctive red roofs. From a distance, the businesses and houses look like rows of imperfect white teeth against the darker paving stones of winding streets.

I take it all in silently, chewing on my bottom lip and darting anxious stares at the smallest noise. When Hades touches my elbow to steer me into a shop, I jump at the graze of his skin.

“Easy, lass,” he says. He slides me a frank look as he points to the little coffee shop. “Maybe ye should get decaf.”

I glare at him. But I don’t shake off his touch. Instead, I let him anchor me as he urges me into the shop.

The unmistakable scent of roasting coffee beans hits my nose the second we enter. It’s a small, cramped space, room enough for a barista working a little cash register, a stack of paper cups, and four air pots of coffee. The rest of the space is dominated by a huge cylindrical copper coffee roaster, easily ten feet long and half as many high.

There are also two tables crammed into the shop. One is empty but the other has a young family sitting at it, dressed for a casual day at the beach. A young fair haired man, his dark-haired young wife, and a little boy with dark hair and glowing red cheeks remind me of nothing so much as Pinocchio for some reason. The man scowls at the boy and pushes a piece of breakfast pastry across the table at him.

As Hades steps up to the cash register, speaking to the barista in very broken Spanish, my gaze catches on the family again. The father says something sharp to the boy in a foreign language that doesn’t sound Spanish.

The boy is more interested in his action figure, a little green piece of plastic that he moves across their table. The mother says something quietly, reaching over to push the hair off the little boy’s furrowed brow.

The boy looks over in our direction for a moment and I smile at him. He studies me with a very intent look for a few seconds and then returns to playing.

I have the exact reaction I’ve had for years upon seeing this content, cozy little family. A distinct pang of longing.

Someday, I hope to have that idyllic family.

Hades shoots me a look as the barista fills two cups of coffee for us. I clear my throat and jerk my gaze away.

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