She slid off her sandals, abandoning them on the steps. Her bare feet gave much better grip for the rest of the way down, and soon she reached the very bottom. The sand was cold and damp under her toes but the midnight air was balmy. She took a moment to stop and simply bask in the utter stillness of it all.
It reminded her of the warm nights her family had spent out on the terrace at their summer estate. The beautiful countryside manor in the southern peninsula of Monteverre was the setting of most of her fondest childhood memories. Back in the days when her grandmother had reigned over the kingdom as Queen and her father had simply been the young, handsome heir to the throne.
There had been no palace for the three young Princesses—no twenty-four-hour bodyguards. Her grandmother had ensured they were given as normal a childhood as possible, considering the circumstances.
And even as father had grown ever more reckless, and her mother had retreated into her brandy glass, Mimi had been there. Until all of a sudden she hadn’t.
Olivia shivered, taking a few long strides across the sand until she reached the long whitewashed jetty of the small marina that she had arrived at. It looked different in the semi-dark, with only a few lamps illuminating the shadows. Roman’s sleek yacht was a dark shadow in the distance. The moonlight glowed against its polished glass body, smooth, severe and striking—rather like the man himself, she thought.
The marina also housed a handful of other vessels. A couple of top-of-the-range speedboats—likely for sporting use—a small rescue dinghy, and the one that had caught her eye the moment she had disembarked the day before: a magnificent vintage sailboat.
In the dark, it was hard to see any of the fine detailing. She reached out, running her hand along the smooth silver lettering emblazoned just above the waterline.
‘“Sofiya”,’ she said out loud. ‘Just who are you named after, I wonder?’
‘That is none of your business.’
The deep voice boomed from behind her, startling her enough to make her lose her footing and fall hard against the side of the boat. She fell for what seemed like minutes rather than milliseconds, before strong arms grabbed her around the waist and lifted her swiftly upright.
‘Planning a midnight escape?’ Roman asked, his accent both intimidating and strangely welcoming after the prolonged silence of her day.
‘You...you startled me,’ she breathed hard, her voice little more than a breathy whisper.
His hands were still on her waist, the heat of him seeping through the material of her dress. She reached down, covering his hands with her own for a moment before pushing them away and taking a tentative half-step back.
The loss of heat was instant. Her skin prickled with tiny bumps, as though calling his touch back.
‘If you insist on sneaking around outside in the dark, I might rethink the terms of your stay here.’
‘The terms? I assumed I had been abandoned to my own devices.’
‘Fine, then. Let’s get this straight. You will only leave the house in daylight hours, and you will clear it with me first.’
‘You expect me to just sit around all day and go insane from my own thoughts?’ She half laughed. ‘This is an island—where could I even go?’
‘I have learnt not to underestimate you.’
He crossed his arms and for the first time she noticed he wore only a dark-coloured sleeveless workout shirt and cut-off shorts. Her eyes took in the bulging muscles that lined his shoulders, his lean, hard biceps and strong forearms. Her gaze wandered once again to the strange black band that stretched around his left arm, just under the elbow. The design seemed intricate, but she quickly looked back up to his face, aware she had been gawking.
‘Are we clear?’ he asked, scowling down at her from his impressive height.
Olivia fought the urge to roll her eyes at him in al
l his perpetually sardonic glory. She had a feeling this was what it would be like to have a surly, unimpressed guardian angel following her every move.
In this light he certainly looked the part. The glow of the moon emphasised his harsh features, making him even more darkly attractive. But good looks and incredibly broad shoulders would never account for a severe lack of sense of humour. Did the man ever smile?
‘Are you like this all the time or just around me?’ she asked, turning on her heel and walking away from him, back towards the sand.
‘Oh, you’re telling me how I am now?’ He fell easily into step beside her, mild amusement on his voice. ‘Please enlighten me.’
‘You are controlling. And rude.’ She said, counting off on her fingers. ‘Judgmental, intimidating, far too serious—’
‘You are accusing me of being rude?’ He clutched a hand to his chest as though mortally wounded.
Olivia stopped just short of where the wooden planks gave way to hard sand and turned to face him in the dim light of the spherical lamps that lined the small marina. ‘You’ve just instructed me that I cannot leave the house without your permission.’
He smirked, reaching out to stop her when she made to move away with irritation.