“Since you work remotely, you should spend more time here.”
He shook his head slightly. “I need all of my supplies. It would be difficult to transfer that here. And there’re a lot of things that just need to be handled in person. I could make it work in Tuscany if I had to, but here, it would be too difficult.”
My face slightly turned his way. “So, you think about moving back?”
He shrugged. “It crosses my mind sometimes.”
His parents would be so happy if he really relocated to Tuscany. They loved him so much, wore their hearts on their sleeves constantly. “Thank you for bringing me here. I’ll never forget it…”
His fingers moved under the fall of my hair and gently played with my strands. “I’ve enjoying having you, Muse. No one else I’d rather be here with.”
Our relationship had changed in the last month. I felt a deeper connection to him, a kind of affection that burned deep inside our hearts. I’d grown attached to him, cared about him so much that I couldn’t function when I thought he might be in danger. But it seemed like I felt the same emotions from him, the same fondness.
He said there was no future for us.
But what if he changed his mind?
What if there was something here?
Time seemed to stand still as we enjoyed our time at his villa. We spent our days sailing, eating, fucking, and doing absolutely nothing. Days had gone by, but it happened so fast it seemed like only minutes had passed.
I loved living in Verona, but Santorini had a special quality to it.
Night had deepened, so we sat on the couch together and watched TV. His arm was around my shoulders, and he was wearing just his sweatpants, his hard chest warm. His fingers played with my hair, and the lights from the harbor could be seen through the window.
I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes, feeling a wave of peace.
I never wanted to leave. “Can we stay here forever?”
He chuckled. “As tempting as that sounds, no.”
“I like it when you don’t work.”
“Me too,” he said. “But it can’t last forever.”
“Do you ever think about retiring? You’re so successful that you could if you wanted to.”
“I don’t believe in retirement,” he said. “Once you stop having a purpose, you lose your mind. I’ll probably work until the day I die.”
“If that’s the case, maybe you shouldn’t work so hard.”
He looked down at me, a smile on his face. “You have a point there.”
“You have the ability to travel the world. So why don’t you do that more?”
“I’ve been to a lot of places.”
“But have you been everywhere?” I questioned.
His smile stretched wider. “Is this your way of getting me to take you around the world? Because if that’s what you want, just ask.”
“Does that mean you would take me?”
He rubbed his nose against mine. “You know I would give you anything you asked for.”
My hand moved up his chest, and I felt my heart soften like melted butter. This man was nothing like he used to be. He had been cold, rude, and insulting. But now he treated me like a goddess, did anything to make me happy.
He loved me.
He never said it, but that didn’t make it untrue. Whether he wanted to admit it out loud or not, it didn’t change reality.
He loved me. “Conway—”
His phone started ringing on the coffee table. He glanced down at the screen. When his eyes narrowed, I knew it was important. “I’m sorry, Muse. I have to take this.” He pressed the phone to his ear and walked into the other room. “It’s Conway.” He stopped in front of the window overlooking the patio and listened to whatever was said over the line.
I stared at his muscular physique, studied the sculpted muscles of his torso and his shoulders. He was a perfect specimen of masculinity, a statue that could be placed in the streets of Greece. He was the kind of man women dreamed of having.
He rubbed the back of his neck and kept listening. “You’re certain? Absolutely?” He listened again. “Thank you, Cynthia.” He hung up and dropped the phone into his pocket. His arms slowly crossed over his chest as he looked into the darkness outside the window.
“What is it?” My bare feet padded against the hardwood floor as I approached him, staring at the tight muscles of his back. Maybe it was none of my business and I shouldn’t pry, but my curiosity couldn’t be controlled.
He didn’t answer, his forearms appearing more corded than usual. “That was the waitress at the Underground.”
I stood at his side, seeing the way his jaw tightened with snapping force. It was impossible to read him at that moment, to understand if that was bad news or really bad news. “And?”