Page 47 of Stolen By the Enemy

But no. As I listen to the footsteps, I know that it’s Marco coming in.

“Hi,” I say as he walks into the room.

His face looks so much more at ease than it did when he came in two days ago. Maybe our talk really did help him.

Or maybe there’s some other reason for him looking so relieved.

“Good news,” he says, as if he’s reading my mind.

So, there is another reason.

“Your brothers say they are coming to fetch you. They should be here tomorrow. Maybe sooner, I don’t quite know. But we have to get you to my house because I am not giving them this address.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that kind of news.

Somehow instead of the excitement that I should be feeling, there’s a pang of sadness when I think about leaving this house.

Is it the ocean or Marco that has me feeling so attached?

“Okay, I need to pack up. My stuff is all over the place, although I did clean the rest of the house today.”

I stand up and gather my sketchbook and pencils. I want to take these with me.

“What are you drawing?” he asks, looking down at the paper on the floor.

I hesitate at first, but there isn’t any real reason to try and hide it from him now.

“It’s, um, well it’s…you,” I say, smiling as I hold it up.

I think I’ve done a pretty good job, so hopefully this is a compliment, and he doesn’t take offense to it.

After our long talk, his face was etched into my mind so perfectly that I managed to draw him from memory.

Even as I look from the drawing to his actual face, I think I’ve captured him well on paper.

The lines around his eyes, the strong jawline and his expression are much softer than you’d expect. I just know how to look deeper at him now.

He looks at the drawing for a long time before handing it back to me.

None of this makes me any less concerned about how he feels about me drawing him, or if he’ll agree that it’s a close replica of his face.

“This is amazing, Grazia, I’ve never seen anything like it. Your talent is natural. If this had color, I might mistake it for a photograph. Where did you learn to draw like this?”

Marco is practically beaming at the picture I’ve given him. No one has ever appreciated my art like this before.

Although, to be fair, I haven’t really shown anyone my drawings before now. It just never seemed like something I wanted to share with the world.

But I want to share it with Marco.

He's looking at me with admiration now, and I can feel my cheeks heating up, probably turning red.

That’s not a problem I have too often. Usually, I’d describe myself as a calm person, who doesn’t get embarrassed or flustered easily.

But Marco has brought out so many new and different feelings in me. I look back up at him, a smile on my lips, and before I can think about it too much, I’m reaching over and kissing him.

He kisses me back with ease, like we’ve been doing this for years.

The kiss lasts for what seems like forever, nothing but our lips and tongues doing a dance as our hands find each other’s bodies, caressing and stroking.

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