Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods, her deep brown eyes sparkling.
“Me, too.” I take her hand, bring it to my lips, and give her a grateful kiss on her palm.
I feel buoyant—more than buoyant, I’m elated. I’m happier than I’ve been…since…since Kit died. No. Since before Kit’s death. And I know it’s because I’m with Alessia.
I’m intoxicated with her.
But I don’t dwell on my feelings. I don’t want to. They are new and raw and a little unsettling. I’ve never felt like this. Truth is, I’m excited. I’m going shopping with a woman, and I’m looking forward to it—is this a first?
But I suspect it will be a battle with Alessia. She’s proud. Maybe it’s an Albanian characteristic. At breakfast she was adamant that I couldn’t buy her any new clothes. But she’s sitting beside me in her only pair of jeans, the thin, graying white top, her leaky boots, and my sister’s old jacket. This is a fight she’s not going to win.
I park in the spacious car park by the quay. She’s curious, peering through the windscreen at our surroundings.
“Want to look around?” I ask, and we climb out of the car.
It’s a picture-postcard scene: antiquated houses and cottages built of gray Cornish stone line the small harbor where a few fishing boats are moored up, idle, because it’s a Sunday.
“This is a good view,” Alessia says. She’s huddled in her coat, and I stretch my arm around her shoulders and hold her to me.
“Let’s go and get you some warm clothes,” I offer with a smile, but she immediately steps out of my embrace.
“Maxim, I cannot pay for new clothes.”
“It’s my treat.”
“Treat?” She frowns.
“Alessia, you have nothing. This is very easy for me to put right. Please. Let me. I want to.”
“It is not right.”
“Says who?”
She taps her finger to her lips, and it appears that this is not an argument she’s considered. “Me. I say,” she answers eventually.
I sigh. “They are a gift for all your hard work—”
“They are a gift because I have sexual intercourse with you.”
“What? No!” I laugh, appalled and amused in equal measure. I quickly scan the quay to check no one can hear us. “I offered to buy you clothes before the sex, Alessia. Come on. Look at you. You’re freezing. And I know your boots leak. I’ve seen your wet footprints in my hallway.”
She opens her mouth to speak.
I hold up my hand to stop her. “Please,” I insist. “It would give me great pleasure.”
She purses her lips, unimpressed. I try a different tack. “I’m going to buy them for you anyway, whether you’re there or not. So you can come with me and choose something you like or leave it to me.”
She folds her arms.
Fuck. Alessia Demachi has a stubborn streak.
“Please. For me,” I beseech her, holding out my hand. She glares at me, and I give her my very best smile. Then she sighs—resigned, I think—and puts her hand in mine.
Yes.
* * *
Mister Maxim is right. She needs clothes. Why is she being so obstinate about his generous offer? It’s because he’s done so much for her already. She trots beside him along the quay, trying to ignore the scandalized voice of her mother that rings in her head.
He is not your husband. He is not your husband.
She shakes her head.
Enough!
She’s not going to let her absent mother make her feel guilty. She is in England now. She is free. Like an English girl. Like her grandmother. And Mister Maxim said that she is on holiday, and if it gives him pleasure…After the pleasure he’s given her, how can she refuse? She blushes recalling his…what did he call it?
Early-morning wake-up call.
Alessia fights back her smile. He could wake her up like that any day.
And he cooked her breakfast again.
He is spoiling her.
She hasn’t been spoiled in a very long time.
Ever?
She glances up at him as they walk into the center of Padstow, and her heart lurches. He looks down at her, his eyes lively, and his handsome face erupts into a wide grin. He looks roguish this morning. It must be the stubble on his face. She likes the feel of it beneath her tongue. She loves the feel of it against her skin.
Alessia!
She had no idea she could be so wanton. Mister Maxim has woken a monster. She laughs to herself.
Who knew?
Her thoughts take a somber turn. What is she going to do when they go back to London and the holiday comes to an end? She wraps one hand around his biceps and squeezes his hand with the other. She doesn’t want to think about that. Not now. Not today.
This is a holiday.
As they walk, the words became her mantra.
This is a holiday.
Ky është pushim.
Padstow is bigger than Trevethick, but the old, cramped houses and narrow lanes are the same. It’s a picturesque little town. The place is bustling with people, tourists and locals out enjoying the sunshine in spite of the cold. There are children eating ice cream. Young people holding hands, like Maxim and her. And older people happily arm in arm. Alessia is amazed that people can express their affection so freely on the streets. It is not the same in Kukës.