CHAPTER 159: CHAPTER 159 OFF YOU

*LORENZO*

“The trains aren’t running.” I informed her.

“Oh.” Danica frowned again.

“You can stay here,” I offered, trying not to focus on her mouth and knowing full well that she won’t stay, especially given how I behaved earlier. I flinched and added, “I promise to keep my hands off you.”

She shook her head rather too quickly for my liking. “No. I should go.” She twisted the cloth in her hands.

“How will you get home?”

She shrugged. “I will walk.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll get hypothermia.”

Especially in those boots and that horrid excuse for a coat.

“I must go home.” She was adamant.

“Fine. I’ll take you.”

What? Did that just pop out of my mouth?

“No,” she said with another emphatic shake of her head, her eyes growing wide.

“I’m not taking no for an answer. As your...um, employer, I insist.”

She paled.

“Yep. I’ll just finish getting dressed” I glanced down at my feet “And then we’ll go. Please.” I gestured to the piano. “If you want to play, do.” And I turned and headed back to my bedroom, wondering why I had volunteered to take her home.

Because it was the right thing to do?

Because I wanted to spend more time with her.

******************

Danica watched him pad out of the room in his bare feet. She was stunned. He was going to drive her home? She will be alone in a car with him.

Was that okay?

But the sisters told her to avoid men.

Plus, a man had tried to take advantage of her just on this short period out of the orphanage.

She should walk home. It’d be better.

Danica shivered and glanced outside once more. It will be cold, but if she was quick, she could leave while the boss was changing and not inconvenience him. Yet the thought of walking all that distance did not appeal.

She had to stop overthinking and just accept his offer of a ride.

Besides, he said she could play his piano. She gave the Steinway a fervent look, clapped her hands with excitement, and dashed to the laundry room, where she changed in seconds. Grabbing her coat, scarf, and hat, she hurried back to the piano.

Leaving her coat on a chair, she sat down on the stool and took a steadying breath. She placed her hands on the keys, enjoying the cool, familiar feel of the ivory.

For her the piano was grounding. It was home. Her safe place. Glancing once more out the window, she began “Les jeux d’eaux à la Villa d’Este,” her favorite piece by Liszt, the music swirling up and around the piano, dancing in brilliant shades of white like the snowflakes outside.

Her memories of the orphanage, leaving to face life on her own, the challenges she’s been through in just this short period were lost in the whirling, icy colors of the music.

**************

*LORENZO*

I leaned against the doorframe and watched her, mesmerized. Her performance was phenomenal, each note measured and played with such precision and emotion. The music flows effortlessly through her...from her. Each and every nuance aaa there on her beautiful face and in the music as she felt her way through the piece. A piece I didn’t know.

She had taken off the headscarf. I had been wondering if she worn it for religious reasons, but maybe it was just for when she was cleaning. Her hair was thick and dark, almost black. As she played, a strand comes loose from her plait and curled around her cheek. What would her hair look like loose and cascading over her bare shoulders?

I closed my eyes, imagining her naked as I do in my dreams, letting the music wash over me.

Would this ever get old? Listening to her?

I opened my eyes.

Watching her. Her beauty. Her talent.

Playing such a complex piece from memory.

The girl was a genius.

While I was away, I’d thought that I’d embellished her performance in my imagination. But no. Her technique was flawless.

She was flawless. In every way.

She finished the piece, her head lowered, eyes closed, and I applauded. “That was breathtaking. Where did you learn to play so well?”

Her cheeks flushed as she opened her dark eyes, but a shy smile lights up her face, and she shrugged. “At home,” she answered.

“You can tell me more about it in the car. Are you ready?”

She stood, and it was the first time I had seen her out of that hideous nylon housecoat.

My mouth dried. She was slimmer than I’d thought, but her delicate curves were all woman. She was wearing a tight green V-neck sweater; the soft swell of her breasts strained against the wool and emphasized her narrow waist, and her skintight jeans showcase the gentle flare of slender hips.

Fuck.

She was gorgeous.

She quickly slipped out of her trainers, dropped them into her plastic shopping bag, and tugs on her battered brown boots.

“Don’t you wear socks?” I asked.

She shook her head as she bent and laced each boot, but her cheeks pink once more.

I glanced out the window, glad to be taking her home. Not only will I get to spend more time with her, but I’ll find out where she lives and stop her from catching frostbite in her feet.

I held out my hand. “Give me your coat,” I said, and she offered me a hesitant smile when I helped her into it.

This rag will never keep her warm.

When she turned to face me, I noticed a little gold cross around her neck and a badge on her sweater, for a school?

Shit.

“How old are you?” I asked in a sudden panic.

“Eighteen.”

I was twenty so the age difference was good, right?

I shook my head, feeling relieved. “Shall we go?” I asked.

She nodded and, clasping her plastic bag, followed me out of the flat.

We waited in silence for the lift to take us down to the basement garage.

Once in the lift, Danica stood as far away from me as she could. She really doesn’t trust me.

After my behavior this morning, was I surprised?

The thought depressed me, and I tried to look as calm and nonchalant as possible, but I was so acutely aware of her. All of her. Here in this small space.

Maybe it was not just me. Maybe she just doesn’t like men. This thought was even more upsetting, so I brushed it aside.

The basement garage was small, but because the family estate owned the building, I have parking spaces for two cars. I don’t need two, but I keep them anyway, a Ferrari and a Maybach.

I pressed the remote for the Maybach, and its lights flashed in welcome and it unlocks. With its four-wheel drive, it’ll easily tackle snowbound streets. Only now do I notice that the car is filthy, still covered in mud and grime from my journey, and when I open the passenger door for Danica, I saw the sorry mess of litter in the footwell.

“Hang on,” I said, and gather up the empty coffee cups, crisp packets, and sandwich wrappers. I stuffed them into a plastic bag I find on the seat and dump it all in the back.

Why am I not tidier?

A lifetime of nannies and boarding school and staff to clean up after me had taken its toll.

With what I hope was a reassuring smile, I gesture for Danica to climb in. I was not certain, but she looked like she’s stifling a smile. Maybe the mess was amusing her.

I hope so.

She snuggled down in the seat, her eyes wide as she looked over the dashboard.

“What’s the address?” I asked as I pushed the ignition.

She told me and boy, that was in the trenches.

I programmed the destination into the

navigation and ease the car out of its parking space. With the press of a button on the rearview-mirror console, the garage door gradually lifts, revealing the white maelstrom outside. The snow was already three or four inches deep, and it was still falling fast.

A warning beep sounds. “Please put your seat belt on.”

“Oh.” She was surprised.

She pulled the strap across her chest and looked down for the catch, then pressed the belt home. “There,” she said, pleased with herself, and it was my turn to stifle a smile. Perhaps she doesn’t travel by car very often.

“You learned to play the piano at home?” I asked.

“Yes, oh, it’s not my home anymore. It’s the orphanage. The sisters taught us.”

Orphanage?

She was an orphan?

I glanced at her pitifully but she was already staring out the window and smiling.

“The street is pretty,” Danica murmured as we drive past.

“It is.”

Like you.

“We’ll take it slow,” I added so she could enjoy the scenery.