Page 113 of King of Obsession

‘Who’s that she’s with, a bodyguard or boyfriend?’

Both, I wanted to growl.

‘Or a farmhand?’

The last comment had Cleo in stitches as she met my affronted gaze.

I guess I deserved the description given, as I’d let my beard grow out recently.

My dress sense, too, had dialed down from Italiansprezzaturato outback casual.

Boots, jeans, a white vest and shirt over it, sleeves rolled up, showing off my muscles and bulk.

I gritted my teeth against the surge of protective anger in my chest.

These small-minded gossips had no idea what my bella had been through, the strength it had taken for her to break free from their expectations and judgments. She deserved so much better than their petty speculation.

Cleo’s hand found mine over the cart handle as if reading my mind.

She laced our fingers together, her grip fierce and unyielding. ‘Ignore them,’ she murmured, her voice low, only for me. ‘They don’t matter.’

I squeezed her hand in silent agreement, marveling at the sheer force of will that radiated from this incredible woman. She stood tall and unbowed in the face of adversity, a queen among peasants.

We finished our shopping without incident. The trolley piled high with adequate supplies to sustain us for months. I insisted on paying, waving away Cleo’s protests with a firm, ‘Let me do this for you, bella. Please.’

She relented with a small smile, her eyes soft and warm as they met mine. ‘Grazie, Alessio. For it all.’

‘Anything for you,’ I murmured, meaning it with every fiber of my being.

I loaded the last of the sacks into the bed of the truck, flexing my arms and back with the effort.

I arranged the bags and boxes with meticulous care. I wanted everything to be perfect for her, to show her that she was cherished and protected.

Her hands trailed over my back as I locked up.

She waggled her sunglasses at me. ‘Hungry?’

‘Starving.’

‘I know someplace. It’s been a beat since I worked there, but if the chef is the same, the food is decent.’

We walked hand in hand through Moss Vale, the sun shining, the breeze blowing, and life golden.

The bell on the cafe door jangled as we stepped inside, the aroma of baking pies enveloping us like a warm hug.

Checkered tablecloths covered the tables, and framed photos of rolling pastures dotted the walls, giving the space a cozy, homespun feel.

‘Cleo, so lovely to see you again!’

A plump, motherly woman with rosy cheeks emerged from behind the counter, arms outstretched. She pulled my companion into a tight embrace.

An older man with gray hair and a kind face followed close after. ‘And who’s this strapping young man?’

He raked eyes over me, glancing me up and down approvingly.

‘This is Alessio,’ Cleo said, taking my hand. ‘My special someone.’

She smiled up at me, her eyes sparkling.

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