Page 52 of Serenity

“You still seem a little shaken up.”

“You seem calm,” I noted, being eerily reminded of my brothers. He held a similar demeanor.

Duke shrugged.

“Why do you have a gun?”

He glanced at the nightstand. “Why wouldn’t I have a gun? I always carry.”

Dragging a shirt over his head, he rose, grabbed my hand, and stalked toward the balcony. Once outside, he looked around the promenade before his gaze was directed downward. He focused on the front door.

“Is that one of the men who was following you?” He pointed near the front door to an armed man dressed in all black. My eyes trained on him, nodding as recognition swept over me.

“He was following you.” Stated as a matter of fact and not a question, Duke laughed.

“Come on,” he urged, grabbing my hand to lead me down the stairs. At the front door, he opened it and spoke something in Italian to one of the men who’d terrified me on my journey back to the house.

“Bee, this is Angelo,” he spoke, introducing me to the soul who’d nearly caused my heart to escape my chest. “Angelo and Michael will be part of our security team for the duration of our stay.”

Security team.

Angelo waved, offering a dimpled smile.

Weakly and sheepishly, I waved back.

Closing the door, Duke stalked to the back entrance of the house near the courtyard. Instinctively, I followed, feeling silly that I’d gotten so riled up over men hired to protect me.

“This is Michael.”

Again, Duke introduced me to a hired gun.

“Tonight, they change shifts, and two others will take their place. I’ll show you their photos in the meantime in case your ass decides to scurry away alone again,” he laughed. “If you had woken me before you left, I would have shared this intel with you.”

“Why do we need security?”

It didn’t make the slightest bit of sense to me.

“Bee, do you know my net worth? Adding to that, I brought you out of the country. The first thing I intended to do was ensure your safety. Judging by how quickly you disappeared, I see it was a sound decision. Come ‘ere.”

Absent delay, I stepped into his arms.

“Do you feel better now?”

“Yes,” came out as I wrapped my arms around him, sighing relief.

In an instant, I was lifted from the ground, and my legs were positioned around Duke’s waist.

“Imagine something happening to Ramsay Miller’s daughter outside his jurisdiction and on my watch.”

“My daddy would kill you,” I tittered with my arms interlocked behind his head.

“Exactly.”

Duke carried me back up the flight of stairs, showering my face in kisses.

The sunsets, like kisses from heaven, pecked my skin, leaving behind hickies disguised as tans. Italy felt like an indie film, full of quiet and soft moments that were in excess. Novelty posters and colorful concrete alleyways designed for making out with your lover littered various streets. Cast iron bistro tables—perfect for writing or having a cup of café or maybe both—cloaked the promenade. All one had to do was stand still to appreciate it all. The moments.

Life for me had been exhaustive and constantly full of work. Of going, going, going. Of seldom rest and infrequent breaks. It was easy to forget softness. It was easy to lose sight of stillness. Being in Italy—being with Duke reminded me of the softness I carried. Exposure to a slow pace aided me in tapping into that energy.

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