Page 21 of Mine to Love
“Um, no. Well, they’re buried there. My mom was killed in a car accident when I was little, and my dad died of cancer when I was eighteen.”
“Oh, damn, Darcy, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s okay,” I say, brushing it off as I pour some coffee grounds into the filter. “Like you and your gunshot wounds, it’s the least of my trauma.” Snapping the coffee pot lid shut, I turn it on and spin around to face Gio once more as the brewing sounds fill the silence between us. He looks at me as if he has something to say, but instead he downs the rest of his shake and moves toward the sink.
“Oh, I can take that.” Reaching for his cup, my fingers accidentally graze his stomach. “So…sorry.” I quickly take a step back. Thankfully, I’ve got a good enough grip on the cup that it doesn’t fall as I pull away from him.
“It’s okay. Nothing to apologize for.” His voice is low and calm and is accompanied by a certain glow in his amber eyes. “Ifanything, it makes us even.” The corner of his mouth lifts into a grin and he looks to the floor as if remembering. That’s when I remember—the accidental boob graze at the children’s boutique. “Come on, girl,” Gio says then and Ru follows him out the back door, leaving me alone and in desperate need of that cup of coffee.
18
With Gio completinghis workout and Delilah still sleeping, I decide now is the best time to explore the house and assess what needs to be done. The house itself is beautiful. It has light painted walls accented with stone, high ceilings with exposed wooden beams, matching French oak floors, and gray-green painted cabinets that offer a touch of warmth to the otherwise light space. And, like mine and Delilah’s bedroom, the first floor has a ton of windows. There are two in the kitchen—one on each side of the wooden vent hood. The dining room just off the kitchen is framed by a set of glass French doors and floor-to-ceiling windows on either side. And the living room, in similar fashion, features floor-to-ceiling windows on either side of the stone fireplace and a large arched window in the built-in booth area overlooking the front of the quiet, private, tree-filled property.
I suppose the privacy wall the trees provide is the reason there are no curtains or blinds on the first floor. It’s a beautiful view, one that soon enough will fill this space with the glow of the morning sunrise. I can already see the shades of orange peeking over the treetops just outside.This is nice.As thecoffee finishes brewing, I handwash Gio’s cup, and pour myself a hot cup of pick-me-up. Once I give every room a good reset, maintaining it should be just a matter of routine. But first, let’s see what that reset will entail.
Coffee in hand, I head towards the living room. The living room is a bit lacking in homey elements. There are no throw pillows on the cream-colored sectional nor any blankets for snuggling and reading a good book. On the one hand, it’s less for me to have to wash, but it also means the couch is more likely to get dirty. Upon closer look, I see some stains from Ru’s dirty paw prints.Okay, noted.And perhaps I should give her a bath. Delilah can help. Noticing the lint and dog hair on the wooden floors, I make a note to vacuum, mop, and dust. And then I get distracted inspecting the books on top of the rectangular-shaped coffee table.
There’s one on chess, which brings a small smile to my lips, and a few others on various topics—psychology, wartime strategy, and guns. Well, I suppose that one shouldn’t be surprising. Though, my kneeled position causes me to discover something that is. “What the?” I move from the coffee table toward Gio’s chess-playing booth and it’s there, mounted on the underside of the table, that I find a holstered gun.
I gasp and back away from it quickly, nearly tripping and falling backward over the coffee table as I do. Feeling my hands shake, I quickly put my coffee cup down before I spill it. Why does Gio have this here? Why does he have it at all? I mean, I know he owns a gun. But multiple? Hidden around the house, ready for use? That’s not typical for a regular homeowner. I mean, did I ever really think he was normal?
I shake my head and pace the room. A swirl of emotions floods through me, including confusion, fear, and anger. Skipping the obvious—who is Gio Morettiandwhat the actual shit have I gotten myself into,I ask for the millionth time—Ifocus on the more pressing questions.Why?Why is this here? Who does he plan to use it against? Who does he think is going to storm through those doors? And what in hell am I going to do about it because this can’t stay here, not with Delilah in the house?
My stomach churns with nausea and my heart races in my chest. I’m going to have to talk to him about this, which I’m not comfortable doing. But I know I have no choice. I’m not touching it, and I can’t let it stay there. Not to mention there could be others. That’s an unnerving thought. I look wearily around the room and make a note to move more carefully as I continue assessing the house.
Bringing my hand to my stomach and taking several deep breaths to calm my nerves, I continue toward the inset, gray-green bookcase in the corner. There are a few more books, some random knickknacks, and a few family photos. When I say few, I meanfew. Three, to be exact. Hmm. I would think the lack of photos would suggest Gio isn’t much of a sentimental guy. But the comment he made about his mom,and the broccoli, says otherwise. Whoever these people are, they’re important to him.
There’s one photo of him and another man. Both are dressed in suits, wearing serious expressions. They look similar with their dark hair and muscular builds, though not necessarily similar enough to be brothers. Hmm. The same man is in another photo with Gio. Only, this time, there’s also a dark-haired woman in the photo. Both pictures appear to have been taken on the same day, since both are of them standing on a white staircase wearing the same outfits.
The last photo is of Gio and a different girl. I saygirlbecause she’s definitely a teenager. They’re both smiling and, unlike the other two photos which appear posed and official, this one feels more natural. They sit on a small, twin-sized bed. It almost looks like a dorm bed. Gio has his arm wrapped around her, pullingher in tight. He wears the biggest smile, so big it makes his eyes look small, as she nuzzles her head into the crook of his neck with an equally bright smile on her youthful face. Seeing him like this helps to settle my racing heart and calm the nerves in my stomach. In this picture he looks normal,human, like a man I shouldn’t be afraid to express my concerns to. Honestly, I know my nerves have more to do with Clive than him.
Shaking the intrusive thoughts of my past from my head, I refocus on the picture and take in Gio’s smiling face once more. There’s something about him that feels lighter and happier than what I’ve observed over the past few days. The closest he’s come to this would be his few interactions with Delilah. Hmm, I wonder who she is? A little sister perhaps?
As the sun finally rises, filling the living room with an orange glow, I resolve myself to finishing my quest through my new home. I’ve only got about two hours until Gio will expect breakfast. And there’s no telling when Delilah will wake. I grab my coffee off the table and guzzle the rest of it before I head upstairs.
The only room left on the first floor to peruse is Gio’s office, which is just past the staircase down the hall. Also down the hall is another bathroom, but the cleaning on that will be standard. And I don’t feel comfortable going into Gio’s office without him. Whatever his line of business, I want nothing to do with it. The less I see or discover, the better. And, if it truly is something sketchy, the less he thinks I know, the better. I should make a point not to clean his office at all without him present. His bedroom, on the other hand, I can’t avoid.
Wrappingmy hand around the brass knob of Gio’s bedroom door, I twist it and step inside. “Wow,” I breathe as sunlight pours in through a wall of glass. It’s a magical sight as the shades of the orange sunrise dance against the satin green comforter on Gio’s four poster bed. Gio’s room is set up exactly like mine and Delilah’s except his aesthetic is more green and brown than the cream and white in our room. And his room also includes a massive terrace, which is too beautiful to resist paying a visit.
Awestruck, I walk toward the wall of glass and find the doorknob in the center. Twisting it, I exit out onto the terrace. Outside, I inhale the fresh country air and feel the warmth of the sun on my face. I close my eyes and savor the moment. This is peace. This very terrace. I could see myself here enjoying my coffee with the sunrise every morning. At least, I would if I could.
Opening my eyes, I move further out onto the stone-paved space and take in the views. To my left is the courtyard and garden below. Outstretched from there are more trees and an even better view of the walking trail I spotted earlier. To my right, there are again more trees. Though, there are also some open spaces. In them, I find various groupings of flowers and even some statues. I suppose that’s why he has groundskeepers. This property is even more massive—and manicured—than I ever could’ve imagined. Both times we’ve returned home, it’s been after dark. So, this is my first actual glimpse of what all is out there, and something tells me this truly is just a glimpse.
Looking at the terrace itself, I find a bistro-style table and chairs and a few potted plants—mostly white roses. The table needs cleaning, and the roses need pruning. There’s also some mildew growing on some of the stones that need to be dealt with, and the iron railing overlooking the property could stand to be cleaned. Even though this is outside, it’s technically part of the home, so I think it falls under my purview. Regardless, I’m definitely adding these tasks to my list.
Taking one last look at the grounds, I return inside and finish assessing Gio’s immediate needs. While I washed mine and Delilah’s bedding after our first night because we slept in our bed unclean, I imagine Gio’s bedding could use a wash as well. It’s then that I head toward his closet. Like mine and Delilah’s room, there is a large window with a bench seat overlooking the driveway and courtyard-style parking area. To the left of that is the closet, and to the right is the bathroom.
Inside, I find Gio’s closet is surprisingly well-kept and definitely fits the polished first impression he made upon me in his suit. There is custom-built wood-stained cabinetry all throughout. The upper sections are for hanged items, and there are drawers beneath for more intimate items. All his clothes are organized according to color and the only colors he ever seems to wear are gray, navy, and black. He has various suits all by the same designer, several pairs of expensive-looking dress shoes, and an assortment of button-down shirts all on one side of the closet. On the other, I find more casual clothes, like what he wore yesterday. Neutral colored shirts and more casual yet still dressy pants. No jeans whatsoever.Interesting.There are drawers for his socks, underwear, and pajamas beneath them which could use some organizing. And then there’s another section with a different style of clothes altogether.
As I approach the section at the far end of his closet, which, like the others, is illuminated by a small, dim overhead light, I find everything is black. Black t-shirts, black long sleeves, and black cargo pants. Beneath it are a couple pairs of black boots that look like something someone would wear into war.
I inch closer, taking it all in. The guns, the books on war strategy, and now this? Maybe he has some sort of military background. And, while I can’t imagine any government job pays well enough for this house, his suits, and the insane shopping spree he took Delilah and me on yesterday, something insecurity might. Maybe like a private security company? Or like a spy?Okay, calm down, Darcy. You’re thinking like a mystery writer.But who else has a gate with a code that changes every week?
Mesmerized by the enigma that is Gio Moretti, I reach for his black cargo pants. Though, as my finger collides with something unexpectedly sharp, I scream and draw back my hand. My finger throbs as blood quickly covers my skin. “Ah!”What was that?Putting pressure on my wound, I run to the bathroom before it gets any worse. I noticed there was a First Aid kit underneath the sink in our bathroom. Maybe there will be one in Gio’s too.
Dropping to my knees on the white-tiled bathroom floor, I quickly open the wood-stained cabinets of Gio’s vanity. Sure enough, there are supplies which will hopefully be enough to stop the bleeding. The last thing I need is to call Dr. R for stitches on my very first dayorto explain to Gio how I hurt my finger.Oh God!Hopefully none of my blood got on his clothes or on the floor—but the doorknob.I glance over my shoulder and see that it will have to be cleaned. As anxiety threatens my state of my mind, I feel my body shake and my heart race.
“No, no, no. Don’t lose it,” I say aloud. But I am, in fact, losing it. The longer I sit with this wound, my anxious thoughts regarding Gio’s response to my nosy behavior,andthe memories the sight of the blood brings about, I fear what will happen next. As sweat dampens my upper lip, I begin to feel lightheaded. I return my attention to the First Aid supplies, hoping to get the bleeding stopped before I pass out.
