Page 53 of King of Obsession

I tagged the shameless smirk play at the end of his mouthand inhaled, glowering at him.

Hating the stirring in my heart for him.

I dampened it seconds later, whispering my Nonna’s name to remind me of what was at stake if I swooned over him.

Or let his unabashed sensuality lure me in.

After a few minutes of quiet chewing, he cleared his throat. I glanced over, catching his searching gaze.

‘Tell me about this area,’ Alessio rasped.

Eager to shift our conversation away from his feral mind, I obliged him. ‘It’s rural, with a healthy Italian population. Migration from Italy to the Goulburn Valley began in the 1920s. Today, over 5,000 residents have Italian heritage, with many migrants coming from small towns with farming backgrounds attracted by work in the fruit industry. Over time, they bought farms and introduced traditional Mediterranean vegetables and horticulture. The Italian community, now in its third generation, is well integrated into various sectors, including medicine, law, and business.’

‘And this farm?’ he rasped, gesturing to the expansive property stretching before us. ‘How long have you lived here?’

I swallowed the bite of my sandwich, considering my answer. ‘A few years now. It was my grandparents’ old place. When Grandpa Cesare passed, and Nonna Guilia went into aged care, I took it over.’

He nodded, taking another sip of his espresso. ‘Bellissima.’

‘Yeah, it is,’ I agreed, looking out over the distant mountain ranges. The view never failed to take my breath away.

‘Tell me more.’

‘I have an organic veggie patch and fruit trees, indigenous bush tucker, and wild medicinal herbs growing in some of the most fertile black soil you’ve ever seen. I have anoff-grid set-up due to a near-new solar array and batteries. I run a range, air conditioner, kettle, and a coffee machine. Just not all at once.’

He huffed.

‘The fireplace and wood stove heat the whole house in winter, and with 50 acres of pristine and wooded forest, you’ll never want for quality firewood. The land is half clear valley floor and bushland with wattles, grevilleas, red, both yellow and white box plus eucalypt trees.’

‘Lonely?’ he mused, his tone casual but his eyes sharp on my face.

I shrugged, brushing a few stray crumbs off my jeans. ‘I like the solitude. And I’ve got good neighbors, even if we keep to ourselves.’

His brow furrowed. ‘Still, a young woman living alone in the middle of nowhere. Aren’t you worried about your safety?’

I bristled at his words, my spine stiffening. ‘I can take care of myself,’ I clipped. ‘I’m not some helpless damsel in distress.’

He held up his hands in a placating gesture. ‘Scusa. Just concerned.’

My anger deflated as fast as it had risen.

He sounded sincere, his worry genuine.

‘I appreciate that,’ I murmured. ‘But I’m fine. I’ve got my wits about me and a shotgun under my bed. I can handle whatever comes my way.’

His mouth quirked. ‘Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me at all.’

I gave him a slight turn of my lips, the tension between easing off.

We lapsed back into silence, but it was a comfortableone now.

I gathered our empty plates and mugs, ready to head back inside, when his voice stopped me.

‘These neighbors of yours,’ he said with casual nonchalance, his gaze fixed on the distant hills. ‘They make sure you’re okay?’

Damn, still on that?

I nodded, balancing the dishes in my hands. ‘Yeah, the Hendersons next door. They’re an older couple, sweet as can be. They’ve adopted me as an extra daughter.’

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