“Are you going to white knuckle it all the way to the top?” The amusement in Sebastian’s voice got my attention.

“This better be worth whatever it is you have planned.”

“I think so,” he crooned. With his eyes concealed by silver Oliver People aviator glasses and thankfully fixed on the task at hand, I couldn’t get a better read on him. The small curve of his lips remained though. He seemed happy––that’s all that really mattered to me.

We made love several more times the night prior. Never as fiercely, or with the same savagery of the first time, however, it still felt like he had broken loose of whatever it was that was holding him back. He was present in every kiss, every touch.

Needless to say, I woke up battered and bruised. When he saw me crawling to the bathroom hunched over, he raised an eyebrow. “I know I asked for it,” I grumbled with a smile on my face. I turned on the shower as hot as possible, and let it pummel my muscles for ten minutes until he joined me and soothed all the aches away. Afterwards, we took the tender into Porto Cervo, the main port of northern Sardinia. And when I say port, I mean only megayachts allowed. Originally developed by the Aga Khan, it’s now legendary as the playground of kings.

The top of the mountain was a flat, cleared parcel of land, deserted except for a small white church no larger than a cottage. My senses feasted on the breathtaking view. There was so much to take in my eyes didn’t know where to land first. The bleached stucco highlighted the exquisite glass windows stained in primary colors. Overlooking the Mediterranean, it sat precariously at the edge of the cliff, lording over everything below.

Beguiled, I stepped out of the car and walked over to it. I wondered if they still held services at the church, or whether it was a historical landmark. A tug on the handled revealed that the doors were locked. In a daze, I walked around the side of the small building until I reached the edge of the cliff, standing as close to it as I could without getting vertigo.

The strong Sardinian wind blew under my white, cotton sundress, ballooning it up, and whipped my short hair around––now a razor sharp, chin length bob since Sebastian insisted on a hairdresser coming aboard before we sailed from Cap Ferrat.

“Was it worth it?” Sebastian’s raspy voice called out from behind me.

Glancing over my shoulder, I found him a few paces away, leaning on his cane––something I had insisted on. Now I was glad I had; the virgin, rocky terrain was a serious hazard to his knee. One hand was casually stuffed in his beige, linen pants while a slightly mischievous smile graced his face. The breeze blew his long hair in every direction until he tucked it behind his ear.

“Every tired step, every lonely, sleepless night, every day I went without food––you are worth every minute of it.”

The amusement dropped off his face, his expression solemn all of a sudden. I knew what that meant. I knew he wanted to wipe away every bad thing that had ever happened to me––but I didn’t. In hindsight, I could admit that it made this moment all the sweeter.

His soft eyes caressed mine. “That’s not what I––”

“I know what you meant,” interrupting him, I clarified. My eyes returned to the horizon. At this height, I could see the curvature of the earth, the sea a convex mirror reflecting dapples of sunlight that looked like the scales of a fish. Everything seemed calm, peaceful from this vantage point.

He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me back into the safe harbor of his body. The cane fell away with a thump. He placed a string of kisses on the side of my neck before his chin came to rest on my shoulder.

I don’t know how long we stood together like that. Apart from the world. In a bubble where only the two of us existed. Away from responsibilities and expectations. Away from all the reasons that two people from completely different worlds could never make it as a couple in this one. I could’ve stayed like that forever.

“Run away with me,” I murmured.

I felt his smile on the sensitive skin of my neck. “Where would we go?”

“We could live on that tiny island over there,” I said, pointing to a rocky outcropping just off shore. “You could fish, and I’ll make a fire and cook it.”

“You know how to make fire?”

A beat later, I answered in a sullen voice, “No.”

“What about water?” he said chuckling. The small island had no trees, which meant no leaves––ergo nothing to collect rainwater.

“Crap,” I grumbled, defeated by his brilliant logic. “We’re going to have to swim back to civilization. And since I’m not a very good swimmer, you’ll have to tow me in.”

Tags: P. Dangelico Horn Duet Billionaire Romance
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