Page 16 of I Think Olive You

Whoever sits at the desk now is unaware we’ve entered the room.

“Signorina?” my guide asks, presenting me to the room.

A female voice sighs before she speaks and a shock of electricity edges through me. There’s no way.

“Oh, our American friend? I’m glad you made it, although I must admit, we weren’t expecting you so soon.” Papers shuffle on the desk as if she’s preparing herself and her things before turning. “I’m so grateful you signed up to test out the volunteer program for us. I’m hopeful it will signal a big change for the grove; one you will benefit from as well.”

Her voice clangs inside my head again. It couldn’t be, could it? The warmth of the voice fills my mind and mingles with memories of tangled limbs and heat. But before I can focus on the possibility, I’m struck with confusion. Clearly there’s been a mix-up, or at least a case of mistaken identity. The last thing I’m here for is volunteer work. I’m here to see about a transition into power, to step into the spot carved out for me by my father’s name and turn it into something wholly my own.

I open my mouth to explain the confusion and clear the air. My tongue works to ask where the hell I can find Abundantia.

But then I see it on the wall—off to the side—an old wooden sign not dissimilar to the one being replaced above the road. Only this is weathered and scarred with age and the elements. Abundantia had been carved there. The paint which made the word stand out against the woodgrain is chipped and missing in places, but it’s unmistakable. I’m here. I’m here.

I pivot in my mind, trying to find the words to explain why without fucking up the first impression that will determine my future here. Clearly, she’s running the show, if not an owner, then a foreman or something. The last thing I need is to alienate her before my claim is substantiated and unshakable. I step forward into the room, wiping my hands on my shorts to dry the clamminess covering my palms, in order to shake her hand.

The chair starts to turn and I take a deep breath, bracing myself for what stands between me and what I’m coming to believe is my destiny. I’ve deluded myself into thinking it might be Giuliana. There’s no way she’s here. By her own admission she lives a world away from Gravina and works in commerce. It’s my mind being a dick again.

I steel myself, schooling a charming smile onto my face and letting the facade slip into place. She stands from her chair, looking down at the papers in her hand for a split second. But in the space of that second before she tilts her head upward—a breadth of a moment—I feel my stomach plummet to my feet. The world spins, and I wonder if this is what it feels like to have the bends, to ascend or drop so fast your body revolts.

No.

No.

Life is fucked up but it can’t be this cruel.

She looks up, large dark eyes shadowed, hair tied back but the dark silk unmistakable. Giuliana’s fragile smile dies on her face, her eyes locked on mine in a way that screams louder than anything she might have said right then. I drink in the sight of her like only she can quench the thirst inside of me.

“Patrizia, lasciaci, per favore,” Giuliana says it without breaking my gaze, without moving a damn muscle. I want to rage at her composure because it feels like I’m being torn apart.

I ran from her and chose to be a coward because knowing I might want more from her than one night of oblivion scared me. And because the universe has some sick sense of humor it brought me back to her regardless.

My guide departs, shutting the door behind her, and I wait poised to see what Giuliana will do next.

“You.” It’s a whisper—a curse. Her hand tightens on the top of her chair, knuckles white. A familiar twist of rage mars her beautiful face. Giuliana takes a step toward me before stopping herself.

“You left. How can you show up here after—” Anger moves through her body like a rippling wave. Her expression cracks into something sad for a moment. Plush lips tremble and her eyes widen in shock before she packs it away and transforms it into a cool mask of indifference.

“I… I didn’t know…” I say, lamely. But it’s true—I had no idea.

“It doesn’t matter now.” Brittle words drop like stones between us and she finds her body. Unnatural stillness gives way to her pacing in front of the desk.

“Giuliana, I’m sorry.” It’s inadequate.

“It clearly didn’t matter to you so just leave it. I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

She turns her back to me, staring out at the windows as if the matter is settled.

“In my defense I had no idea you owned a farm, let alone this one,” I hiss. “You said you worked in finances far away from Gravina.”

Whirling around, Giuliana pins me with a glare. The anger peeks through again and I watch in fascination as the fiery woman from yesterday stuffs her feelings down with a handful of breaths. Her words are professional and calm by the time she speaks again but I can see the faint mark of where my mouth kissed a bruise into her neck last night.

“The grove is a world away from the city. And farming is a business. I needed an escape from the pressure, not a therapy session. Sorry for not imparting my life story to a stranger and—forgive me—but you didn’t exactly nudge much further than my bedroom door.” It’s haughty. Her defense is almost comical to me given how upset she was at my appearance. Hypocritical.

Giuliana carries on regardless. “It’s in the past and we both need to forget it ever happened.” Waving a hand at me, she dismisses me and last night as if it did mean nothing.

“But,” I protest, the truth poised on my lips. There’s been a giant misunderstanding between us.

“But nothing, Matteo. You made no promises to me. You took what you wanted and left like a thief before sunrise.” A bitter laugh from her throat crumples my resolve. Giuliana smooths a hand over the silky hair I splayed my fingers through last night.

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