Page 14 of Wicked

I turn to catch a last look at it before we enter an arch, but I’m too late. Now inside, we head through a stunning old villa with swords and renaissance paintings on the walls. It’s classyand old, and I keep my eyes away from the stranger. I’m nervous about looking back into his eyes and not being able to look away.

6

DANTE

As I carry the disaster into the villa, I pause. I’ve not been inside for years. “Maria,” I yell, heading upstairs. I have no time for this kind of bullshit, but I hold my tongue.

Having stayed in the villa many years ago, I have a fair idea where the bathroom is. I carry the woman up the old stairs and to the bathroom on the first floor. Her face is inches away, and she looks up. Her eyes are deep blue, and they are circled by her dirty blonde curly hair.

A trickle of blood runs from her forehead and she has a small cut. Her legs in the denim shorts are warm in my hands.

I have not slept with anyone for months, and her silky thighs feel good. Too darned good.

After depositing the stranger in the bathroom, I start running the large, ancient bath. There is still no shower. That I loved, but now less so.

The crazy mess standswide-eyed, and Maria has not replied. The mess then points out the window and mumbles, “The sea.”

I shake my head in disbelief. She has either knocked her head, or she’s an idiot. I pull out my phone and sigh.

As I wonder who to call, a grin crosses my face. I lean into the sign beside the mirror and touch it. It notes a local plumber, a builder, and the local doctor. I mumble as I dial, “I love you, Maria.”

“I love you too,” the crazy mess says, turning, “… but it’s not Maria.”

I am over the chaos as I hit dial. The village doctor answers fast, and I speak quickly in Italian. Finally, I end the call and turn back to themess.

After I inform her I have to move the cars, I take her hands and lower her onto an old chair.

Returning minutes later, I crouch near her face. The girl gazes back at me sweetly, and for someone so all over the place, she really does have unique eyes.

Bluer than blue, Caribbean blue. Her lips are also full, even sinful.

“Listen,” I say, “a local doctor is coming, and he will check you out, okay?”

“Doctor.”

I hold her chin and examine her face and head. They don’t appear too bad. I peer down at her knee. “Where do you hurt?” She makes a strange face and touches her knee. “How bad is it?” I ask, losing my patience.

“Just hurts. Not broken.”

I realize the mud is the only thing I can help with, and it will kill time. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” She smiles ever so sweetly, and I need to mumble, “Fucking crazy.” I fight the urge.

She reminds me of a moody actress I took against walls in the day, who gave the best blow jobs. It does not help the situation.

We watch the bath fill, and we share a few awkward looks. I pour her a glass of water, and she drinks it while staring at me.

Having her intense blue eyes on me while chugging the water starts to do something to me. The weird thing is she appears as innocent as they come.

I can tell she’s of legal age, and I hate myself for getting hard.

Just before it gets awkward, there is a knock at the door. I open it fast, appreciating the small village. “Perfect, come in.”

The old doctor looks exactly as I remember. He fixed me up every few years as I grew up around the village and castle, spraining this or that after a few crazy stunts on less-than-suitable horses.

After introductions, he checks her eyes and knee. Just as I’m about to leave, he asks me to stay and babysit her.

“Even if I don’t think she is concussed, I do not want her sleeping for six hours.”

Dear God, kill me now.

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