For as long as she wants me, I’m all hers.

“Is there somewhere for us to sit?” Olivia asks with a gentle smile.

“Follow me. We can sit in the dining room,” I say, leading the way. The dining area hasn’t been used today since we don’t have any other guests, but my mother has still been around lighting the candles at each table. Olivia smiles.

“This is nice,” she says politely. I shake my head.

“It’s a mess. This whole place needs renovating,” I tell her honestly. It feels like a betrayal of my parents in a way, but they must realize that this place has fallen into disrepair.

“I’m sure it just needs a spot of paint here and there,” Olivia says gently. It’s so clear that she’s got a kind soul, that she’s desperate to make me feel better about it, and it only makes me want her more. I’ve never met such a sweet young woman.

“I grew up here. It used to be a really nice place for guests to stay. We used to have a full house all the time,” I remark. Olivia twirls her pasta around her fork slowly, listening intently.

“What changed?”

I draw in a deep breath. Even now, it feels hard to talk about what happened to my brother. But something about Olivia makes me want to be honest with her.

If I was talking to anyone else, perhaps I would avoid the truth. But one look in her eyes and my hardened exterior seems to grow softer.

What is she doing to me?

“My brother…he died a few years ago. And from then on, it was like everything just fell apart,” I say in a gruff tone, trying to keep the pain out of my voice. Olivia gasps quietly and reaches out to touch my hand instinctively.

“Elijah…I’m sorry, that’s terrible.”

I hang my head a little. “It was…a big deal. He was my best friend. We grew up that way and never drifted apart. And I guess I never thought he’d leave me. You don’t think about whether you’ll outlive your family, do you? You just hope that you never have to think about that. But after he was gone…well, my parents couldn’t cope very well. This is the same place where we were raised. Unfortunately, my parents lost their love of their work, and this place fell apart. They didn’t have the heart to keep it up like they used to.”

Olivia’s face creases in concern, and I try to wave it off.

“It is what it is.”

She grips my hand, and I realize what she’s silently trying to tell me. She’s telling me that I don’t need to be strong and it’s okay to grieve for him. And for the first time in a long time, I let myself feel the stab of pain that his death brought. I’ve been masking it for such a long time that the feeling takes me by surprise, almost undoing me.

“I’m so sorry,” Olivia whispers.

I squeeze her hand back.

“Thank you,” I say earnestly, and I really do mean it.

No one has ever really looked out for me like this. My parents tried when my brother died, but I shut them out. And now, it feels like the only person in the world that I’m willing to let in is this near-stranger sitting opposite me at the table.

And yet she’s not a stranger. Not really. Because somehow, without words exchanged, I know her heart already. I know her deep to the core without even trying. Something tells me that we were meant to meet today. It’s no coincidence that the day I came home, she walked into my life to save me. It feels right being around her now.

I guess I’ve just been waiting for her to come along all these years. The one woman who can entice me away from my lonely life and make me feel good again. The pain of the conversation numbs a little when I realize just how close we are, our hands touching, our knees nudging beneath the table. I growl, the animal in me taking over. I can’t help myself. She’s doing something to me, making me more animal than man.

But I don’t want it to end.

“Elijah?”

I look up and see my mother standing in the doorway to the dining room. She’s staring at my hand in Olivia’s, her face creased in concern. I glance at Olivia.

“Excuse me a moment,” I excuse myself, standing up to go and talk to my mother. Mom ushers me out of the room and closes the door so that we can talk.

“What’s going on? Who is that young woman?” she asks.

“She’s a guest. She will be staying with us for a while.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know yet,” I say defensively. I get the feeling my mother is about to tell me something I don’t want to hear. She sighs.

Tags: Flora Ferrari Romance
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