Page 93 of One Secret

For a second, I'm thrown by the speed at which she's jumped to that conclusion.

I glance down at myself.

'God, is the fine hotel food showing already?' I joke, patting at my hips.

'What? No!' Lana cries, flushing with color. 'Oh Dio, I've put my foot in it, haven't I?'

Drawing back her lower lip in a wince, Lana looks around as if she fears we'll be overheard.

A fat lot of chance there...

The Strada del Molo is a wide road built to handle the high traffic to and from the docks each morning. By now, with the sun well past its apex, the open space is light and airy but flanked on either side to create the illusion of privacy. To our right is a towering wall of traditional Grecian homes, two stories high and pressed firmly together, carved from white terracotta and limestone. To our left is the open ocean. Only a thick wall of the same platinum-white stone divides the winding cobble road from the waves of royal blue.

The few people foolish enough to be out at this hour hurry past with heads down and radars seeking the nearest shade for an afternoon snack or nap.

Even with a few crazy cyclists, the odd delivery man, and a handful of tourists, the wide thoroughfare down to the harbor feels vacant.

Still, Lana inspects the nearest alleys and the staircases down to the coast, before continuing:

'I apologize if you didn't want people to know...' she says, contrition stamped all over her face. 'I just... when you avoided wine at dinner, and you were ill when you first arrived... And the kitchen reported you avoided fat and the baked goods in the breakfast hall yesterday; I know those can be triggers for morning—'

'—sickness,' I finish for her, in the hopes of shutting her up quickly.

Now, it's my turn to look hastily around. As the only passage down to the pier, where I'm late to meet Cyrus, it'll be along this road that he hikes should Cyrus decide to meet me halfway...

That would be all I need. My secret, kept for months, exposed by a blurting blonde bombshell.

With both hands actively shushing her, my bag clonks against the wall again and dances to my jerky gestures for quiet.

'Please...' I begin to beg.

Lana is quick on the uptake.

'Oh, you are keeping it private...' she sympathizes.

'Exactly. No one knows. Not even Cyrus.'

This truly throws the woman off. In fact, for a moment, Lana appears genuinely frightened that I'm keeping such a major confidence behind Cyrus's back. Which, I suppose, is understandable. Cyrus doesn't exactly present himself as a man one would be wise to deceive.

After a moment of consideration, however, a new expression lights up Lana's big eyes and wide lips. A look that can only be described as an adoring and unabiding envy.

'Oh wow, Darcy,' she croons. 'If signor Alesi's behavior so far is of a man protective of his woman only, I confess myself excited to see him after he learns the happy news.'

My jaw hangs slack and I stand unsure of what to make of that comment.

A few days ago, had I heard something similar, I'd have laughed at the idea. Cyrus is a ship in the night. A fleeting wonder of sexual pleasure who arrives with a single text message and disappears before the rising sun. Hardly the image of a possessive or protective lover.

I remember the conversation I had with Lily-Anne before leaving for this trip:

"A meet?" she had said. "You make it sound like a business deal..."

And that's exactly how it has always been between us. No emotion equals no need for possession or protection.

But, I also can't dismiss Lana's observations as pure fantasy. Something has changed since arriving on the island. Cyrus has changed.

"I like you... I like how you don't take my shit, how you argue with me... How I want to be inside you every second of every day... but would settle just for holding your damn hand."

Under the warm sunshine, I still shiver with heated trembles. The sensation is delicious and arousing... and a giant neon warning.

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