Page 87 of Promise Maker

Arriving at the pier, the guards check thateverything is secure before we board Domenico’s boat. Another guard takes usalong the coast until reaching a rocky area where there are no houses.

A few minutes later, we turn at a private cove,and I glimpse a white house on the cliff surrounded by trees.

It’s captivating.

The graying sky doesn’t do it justice.

More guards are waiting on the dock.

Pulling up next to another boat at the structure,Domenico helps me to the boardwalk. Then we climb the stone steps to theproperty.

“This is your house?” I ask.

“It isourhouse,” he says, giving me awink. “Our getaway for a few days.”

He switches my bag to his other hand and drapeshis arm around my waist, leading me to the paved entrance.

An older gentleman and woman greet us in thefoyer.

“Congratulazioni,” theyboth say.

“Benvenuto, Nico,” the woman adds, beaming as shecuts to me. “Signora Martelli.”

Mrs. Martelli. I’ll need to get used tothat.

“Hello,” I reply softly.

“Solari, this is Carlito and Gabriella. Caretakersof the property.”

I shake their hands. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

“Would you like something to drink?” Carlitooffers, looking from me to Domenico.

“Sì. Whiskey for both mywife and I.”

Gabriella collects my bag from Domenico anddisappears down the marble passage as he leads me into the vast living areawith floor-to-ceiling windows, giving a spectacular view of the MediterraneanSea.

The house is more modern contemporary than hisfamily home, with white walls, shiny flooring, and gray furniture; a fewpaintings providing pops of color.

“How do you feel?” Domenico inquires. “Tired?”

I face him fully and shrug a shoulder. “I’m fine.I still can’t believe I’m married. To you.”

“Hm.”

Carlito brings over a tray with glasses andDomenico’s favorite whiskey. Setting it on the stone coffee table, he nodsrespectfully and takes his leave.

“They’ll return in the morning for breakfast,”Domenico informs me. “Tonight, we have privacy.”

Butterflies instantly bombard my stomach.

He pours the whiskey and hands me a glass. “Atoast to my gorgeous wife.”

I knock my glass with his and throw the liquorback.

Domenico collects it afterward, saying, “I’ll meetyou in the bedroom. It’s the last one at the end of the passage.”

I gulp. “Geez. You’re getting right to it, huh.”

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