Page 10 of My Dark Fairy Tale
Like a meal he was impatient to eat through to the bones.
“Oh,” I said without thinking. “You’re beautiful.”
His expressive brows slammed down over those clear eyes. “A man is not beautiful.”
“You are,” I insisted. “Not like someone from a Renaissance painting. Like, well, like Dante’s angels, maybe.”
“Nothing about me is heavenly,” he argued again, crossing his arms defensively, but there was a tiny curl in his mouth that said he was enjoying this.
Enjoying me.
“A fallen angel,” I corrected.
“Dante’s fallen angels are monstrous looking,” he retorted. “Your youth is revealing yourself. Have you even readThe Divine Comedy?”
“Yes.” I winced. “Could we blame it on the potential concussion?”
He made a sound like a snort that was only an exhalation of breath through his nose. “In fact, I am certain you have one. The doctor is waiting downstairs to give you an exam. This is why I woke you.”
I tried to sit up and winced when my entire side crackled with pain. “I don’t think I can sit up.”
“No,” he agreed. “DottorPesci will make sure you do not have anything emergent because I would like to avoid a trip to the hospital while you do not even have identification. At most, I think you could have some broken ribs, but there is nothing to be done for that but time.”
“Time I can’t waste. I need to go to the consulate and figure out what to do about money and buy clothes because otherwise I’ll just have a dirty, torn dress to wear, and the consulate might not even let meinsidewearing that, looking like a—” I stopped abruptly when Raffa’s large hand gently covered my mouth.
“Abbastanza,” he ordered, not unkindly. “You have been threatened, chased, and hit by a car. You need rest.”
“But—” I mumbled beneath the weight of his palm.
“No. We do not know each other, I understand that. But the first thing you should know about me is this: Once I make a decision, I am loyal to it no matter what. I knew what I was signing up for when I invited you into my car last night. Do not make me regret my uncharacteristic show of kindness by being timid. You are here, you will remain here until you are healthy and reestablished, and that is the end of the discussion.”
He stared at me for a long moment as if to punctuate his point, but it wasn’t necessary.
His offer—no,declaration—of help was unexpected. In the light of day, he didn’t seem like the kind of man to care about the well-being of a stranger. He was wearing another expensive suit, this one a rich, textured brown that perfectly matched his wavy hair, and a wristwatch that winked diamond bright back at me. He owned a palazzo in central Florence and drove a Ferrari.
So it might have been out of character for him to offer help, but he could also definitely afford to do it.
When he slowly pulled his hand away, I worried my lower lip with my teeth as I considered my situation and noticed how his furrowed brow tightened while he watched the gesture.
“Thank you,” I said finally. My throat ached like I was also coming down with a cold, which seemed in keeping with my perpetual bad luck. “I can’t really express how grateful I am.”
He shrugged one shoulder slightly, a flippant, arrogant expression that suited him.
“I took the liberty of plugging your phone in because it was dead. Why do you not text whoever you must to tell them you are safe and start the process of canceling your cards? I will send the doctor up.”
He stood up abruptly, passed me my cell phone, and then strode to the door. It occurred to me that he was tall, not only compared to my measly height, but in general. His wide shoulders filled the suit jacket perfectly, and his long legs ate up the floor in athletic strides.
If I’d been feeling better, I might have ogled him a little.
Who was I kidding?
I could ogle him just fine, even with a concussion.
He was so gorgeous, I couldn’t really believe he was real and this wasn’t all some kind of fever dream.
“Raffa?” I called as he opened the door. He hesitated, shoulders visibly tightening at the sound of his name. It tasted good in my mouth, chocolaty and rich. “I promise I’ll be out of your hair by the end of the week.”
He gave a clipped nod and shut the door behind him.
