Chapter Four
Lyriope
Ihad slept through breakfast and lunch. I didn’t realize just how tired I was when I rested my head against the pillow. When I finally woke up, I had never been more grateful that Anton and Violet had a spaghetti with Bolognese sauce waiting.
“Don’t worry,” Violet says as she brings me the food. “We’re used to this. With the time change, the travel, and even our altitude, it takes our guests about a day to adjust.”
I don’t want to give away that this is my first experience with jet lag, Italy, and travel in general. I nod. “I needed this vacation. I’ve been so busy in New York.”
She smiles warmly as she pours me a glass of red wine. “Would you like some bread with this?”
I stare down at my dinner, my mouth watering, and I nod again. “Please.”
A gal could get used to this type of eating for sure.
I try my best to not look around and take in my surroundings as someone who’s never been in the room before. But the dining room is the most unique room I’ve ever experienced. The walls are stone, the flooring as well, but there are also large wooden wine barrels everywhere. There are also some large antique iron devices that I can’t make out.
Violet must see what I’m staring at when she arrives with a basket of bread. “Flour grinders,” she says. “This place used to be an old flour mill before it was bought and converted to an inn. And then your family bought it and turned it into their estate.”
“Ah yes,” I’m quick to say. “I remember that now. It’s been a while.”
My heart skips in fear that she reads into my face and can tell that this information is the first time I’m hearing it.
“Anton told me that you aren’t sure how long you’re staying,” she says, seemingly unaware that I’m holding this secret of my identity by a delicate thread.
“Taking it one day at a time,” I say, trying my best to mimic the carefree Sasha I know and love.
“Well, enjoy,” she says as she then leaves me to eat alone.
I’ve actually never eaten in a restaurant alone. And this most certainly feels like a restaurant. I’m not sure what to look at or how to act. It feels foreign and lonely. I also feel drunk with only a few sips of the wine, but I’m sure my disorientation to place and time is helping with that. I quickly eat as much as I can so not to offend Anton and Violet, but the amount of food on my plate would feed me for a week back home.
Home… I no longer have a home.
Will I ever have a home again?
Taking one last bite of the pasta, I decide that I have to shake off this dark cloud I’ve been carrying over me. I’m not going to be able to survive, outthink, and thrive if I allow the old Lyriope to take over. I’m not a victim. I’m a motherfucking queen. I have to keep telling myself this or…
Nick Hudson taught me in our short time together that I can be extraordinary if I put my mind to it.
And I have no choice but to put my mind to it.
I consider going for a walk before heading back to my room, but the sun is ready to set, and the idea of taking what’s left of the bottle of wine to my room and sitting on my balcony overlooking the waterfall as the sun lowers sounds heavenly. I’ll leave exploring the town and the area for tomorrow. I haven’t even seen the property yet other than my room and the dining room. But for now… I’ll start with the sunset over the river.
The room is chilly when I enter, and the dampness in the air sends a shiver down my spine. The glass doors to the balcony are open allowing the brisk air to blow the white curtains all around. Deciding to put the bottle of wine and glass outside before I go find a sweatshirt, I head straight to my ultimate destination.
I freeze the minute I reach the threshold.
I blink away my madness, telling myself it’s exhaustion causing hallucinations.
It can’t be real. He can’t be real.
“I’m ashamed of you,” Nick says as he leans back in the chair, his feet propped up on the table I was going to use to place the wine on. “I expected your game of hide-and-seek to be far more challenging. At least make me work for it a bit.”
The bottle of wine begins to slip from my hands, but Nick is quick to jump out of his seat, reach out and save it from its demise. He then takes the glass from me as well and fills it with wine.
“Thank you. I don’t mind if I do,” he says, bringing the full glass to his lips. His eyes lock with mine as he takes a seat again.
I can’t speak. I can’t move. I’m frozen in disbelief that he’s actually sitting a foot away from me.