Page 125 of Thorns of Death
The car ride followed twisting and turning roads with huge mountains in the distance until we came to a long driveway that was lined on both sides with vineyards stretching for miles. Workers were out, picking fruit and working the fields, their crates overflowing with produce.
At the end of the winding road was a gate with guards, and the moment they saw the car approaching, they beckoned us through. Beyond it, the land spread out to a wide-open space where an honest-to-God castle stood.
“Welcome to our home,” Enrico drawled, leaning back against the car’s leather seats, legs wide apart and his entire demeanor relaxed. “Castello Del Mare.”
Once we came to a stop, the door opened and Enrico jumped out, extending his hand.
The moment I stepped out of the car, I let my eyes travel over the horizon. Rows and rows of lemon and olive trees. And beyond it all, a clear blue sea.
“Oh my gosh,” I breathed. “This is…”
The smell of the sea, lemons, figs, and grapes all drifted through the air. The soft, rhythmic sound of the waves made the most beautiful melody as they crashed against the shore. The kind of symphony that made you feel invincible. I wanted to capture it with the strings of my violin.
Enzo and Amadeo got out of the car and dashed into the house.
“What do you say?” Enrico cupped my face, pressing his mouth to mine. “Could you live here,amore mio?”
The sun was flickering its rays over the horizon. The salty air from the ocean. The tangy, rich smell of earth, sea, and fruit… I knew I’d love it here.
“This is heaven on earth,” I said, beaming. “There’s just one thing missing.”
Heat blazed in his gaze with an intensity that flicked a switch inside me, making me ache for him. But it wasn’t only the lust in his eyes that had me burning. It was the softness and adoration in his obsidian depths causing me to melt.
“Whatever it is.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I’ll make it happen.”
“My violin.”
I couldn’t wait to play the violin with the sound of waves crashing against the shore.
FORTY-THREE
ISLA/ ENRICO
The next morning, I left our luxurious bedroom and went in search of the kitchen. It wasn’t hard to find it. I just followed the sound of chatter and laughter and the smell of food. The soothing sound of the waves traveled through the air and could be heard even from inside, making you feel like you were in paradise.
I entered the spacious, modern kitchen and found it bustling with life. Enrico was there. Manuel. A few other men I hadn’t seen before. Enzo and Amadeo. And an older woman with silver-gray hair.
She spotted me and her eyes lit up with delight.
“Ciao, bella.”
She rushed my way, her feet surprisingly soft against the tile as she approached me and pulled me into a hug.
“Umm… ciao.”
The woman was even shorter than me, and my height was definitely not something to be envied. I flickered a look over her head to my husband and boys.
Enzo and Amadeo grinned. “That’s Zia Ludovica.”
“The best cook in all of Italy,” Manuel added.
Enrico said a few words in Italian and I realized he was translating, because Zia Ludovica gushed and waved her hand.
“Caffè, bella?”
I nodded. “Sì. Grazie.”
She ushered me to sit next to Enrico, putting my hand on his and patting it affectionately.
