Pausing for a moment, he ran his fingers through his hair and stood still, observing the magnificent coastal scenery. Or maybe he was just lost in thought. Okay, why was I even noticing him, much less trying to figure out how his brain worked? Just because he looked attractive....
Shaking my head, I made my way to the bathroom thinking I was no better than him when I had just labelled him a pervert for checking me out.
And also wondering why I felt so reluctant to let him out of my sight when I had no idea who he was.
***
X
In the quiet solitude of my darkroom that afternoon, I studied the photographs for longer than was appropriate. As a matter of fact, taking those photos in the first place had been inappropriate along with watching her and thinking the dozen other thoughts which had flooded my mind as I had observed the play of emotions on her face even from a distance. The serenity. The wistful smile. The loneliness. But her body when she had risen from the pool was what had jammed my heartbeats. Fuck.
Hanging the photos up to dry, I took a deep breath and gave myself a mental scolding. This was wrong. I was not supposed to notice anyone that way. I already had someone whom I loved more than life itself and who loved me back. There was no room for a third.
There never will be...
Chapter 1
2 weeks later.
Milan,
Italy.
~~~
Skye
"So what do you think?" Marco Rossi stared at me with huge, expectant eyes as he showed me the newly designed hallway in the west wing of his house and asked for my opinion on hanging one of his paintings up on a spot along a wall.
"Er...I...I think it's a great idea and would look absolutely beautiful," I lied smoothly, my lips curving in a sweet smile as I regarded the short, stout man.
He was one of those wealthy clients I mentioned before who paid me to teach them painting, had been a customer for two weeks now and the truth was, I had seen kids in kindergarten paint better.
But I was not about to tell him that. I did not want to hurt his feelings. Or lose my job.
Returning my smile, Marco hollered down the corridor at one of his maids for some watermelon juice, making me flinch because he was annoyingly loud sometimes. Thankfully, he left me to my own devices when his phone rang a moment later and instructed me to join him for a drink later out on the terrace.
It was hot today and my session with Marco Rossi was over. I was dying to get back to my tiny apartment in Via Dei Gerani a couple of miles away, take a long shower and just put up my feet but a huge part of my steady income depended on keeping some of my clients entertained and interested enough to keep booking sessions with me and recommending me to others.
"That was a wise move, by the way," a voice declared from behind me. "I would've just told him his paintings suck and to not torture people with visions of them all over this beautiful house."
I rolled my eyes. "No wonder he keeps grumbling about wanting to hire another architect."
The man behind me chuckled and then moved in my line of vision with a smug expression on his face. "He won't, though. I'm brilliant and he knows that."
I pout playfully as I pretend to consider something. "Well, I wouldn't say brilliant actually...," I drawled and he shook his head at me, humour dancing in his eyes.
"You just hate admitting I'm right," he quipped and then added, "Admit it."
I laughed a little, tucking a few stray strands of my wavy blond hair behind my ears as they stuck to my skin because I was sweating in the heat. This part of the house was still under construction and the air conditioning had not been installed yet.
Cole Sawyer, the twenty-eight-year old architect working on Marco's house aimed his beautiful smile at me. God, he was gorgeous. And perfect. Just a few years older than me with a warm, flirtatious nature. And he wore glasses. Fuck, I thought it was so hot when I first came here to give Marco painting lessons and was introduced to this hunk of a guy. He was lean, dark-haired, the same height as me which was about 5 feet 8 and he loved reading.
Yeah, that was a huge turn-on for me. Boys who loved to read. Not just boring shit but fantasy novels. Brandon Sanderson. Patrick Rothfuss. Terry Goodkind. Even Jay Kristoff.
Damn, my panties almost melted the first time he discussed my favourite fantasy books with me upon discovering me reading a novel during one of my breaks here. He flirted with me every chance he got and if we could not talk to each other due to being busy at work, he would seek me out even if it was for a few seconds and wink or wave, never failing to shoot that charming smile in my direction.
Needless to say, I was crushing on him hard. He never asked me out though. Never asked for my number either. I wondered how long it would take for me to stop waiting for him to make a move and just do it myself. Because I really, really liked him.
"Energy bar?" he asked, offering me one from his never-ending supply. That was another thing I knew about him. He loved those things, a health freak through and through.
"Thanks, Cole. Um...I have to meet Marco for a drink before I head
