CHAPTER 177: CHAPTER 177 DRY YOUR HAIR

*LORENZO*

I lowered the heat under the bacon and hurried to the balcony doors to join Danica, who was jumping from foot to foot, incandescent with excitement.

“Can we go down to the sea?” Her eyes were alive with delight as she bounced up and down like a child.

“Of course. Here.” I unlocked the balcony door and slid it open so that she could go outside. A gust of glacial air caught us both by surprise.

It was freezing, but she rushed out, not caring about her wet hair, bare feet, or thin T-shirt.

Doesn’t this woman have any decent clothes?

I picked up a gray throw that was draped over the back of the sofa and walked out after her. I wrapped my arms and the blanket around her, holding her as she admired the view. Her face was lit up with wonder.

The Hideout and our three other holiday homes were built along a rocky promontory. A small winding path at the end of the garden led down to the beach. It was a bright, clear day. The sun was shining, but it was bitterly cold in the howling wind. The sea was a chilly blue, flecked with white surf, and we heard the boom of the waves as they crashed against the cliffs on each side of the cove. The air smelled fresh and salty.

Danica turned to me, her expression one of complete awe.

“Come on, let’s eat.” I was conscious that breakfast was on the stove. “You’ll catch your death out here. We’ll go down to the beach after breakfast.” We head back inside and close the door. “I just have to do the eggs!” I shouted above the music.

“Let me help!” Danica shouted back, following me into the kitchen area, still draped in the blanket.

I turned the Sonos volume down via the app on my phone. “That’s better.”

“Interesting music,” Danica said in a tone that told me that perhaps it was not her thing.

“It’s Korean house. I use a few tracks when I DJ.” I retrieved the eggs from the fridge. “Two eggs?”

“No, one.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Just one. I’m having two. You can make some toast. Bread is in the fridge, and the toaster is over there.”

Together we work in the kitchen, and I was able to watch her. Using her long, nimble fingers, she fishes the toast out of the toaster and buttered each slice.

“Here.” I took the two plates out of the warming drawer and placed them on the counter, ready for toast.

She grinned as I served up the rest of our breakfast.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.” I abandoned the frying pan in the sink, collected both plates, and ushered her toward the dining table, where I had laid two places.

Danica looked impressed.

Why did this make me feel like I had finally achieved something? “Sit here. You can enjoy the view.”

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

“How was that?” Lorenzo asks.

They were seated at the large dining table, Danica at the head, where she had never sat before, and she was enjoying the view, the seascape.

“Delicious. You are a man with many accomplishments.”

“You’d be amazed,” he said, dryly, his voice a little husky. And for some reason his tone and the way he looked at her made her breath catch.

“Do you still want to go for a walk?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Taking his phone, he dialed a number. Danica wondered who he was calling.

“Dante,” he said. “No. We’re fine. Can you bring a hair dryer over...oh, there are? Okay. Then I need a pair of Wellingtons or walking boots....” He looked directly at Danica. “What size?” he asked.

She had no idea what he was talking about. “Shoe size,” he clarified.

“Thirty-eight.”

“That’s, um...size five, and some socks if you have any. Yes. For a woman...It doesn’t matter. And a decent bloody warm coat...Yes. For a woman...Slim. Small. As soon as possible.” He listened for a moment. “Fantastic,” he said, and hung up.

“I have a coat.”

“You won’t be warm enough. And it’s very cold out there.”

She flushed. She had only two pairs of socks because she couldn’t afford more, and she couldn’t ask Magda for another pair. Magda had done enough for her.

Her luggage was at Julio’s and when she ran out that night, she could only pick what she could carry and wasn’t bold enough to go back.

“Who is Dante?”

“He lives not far from here,” Lorenzo said, directing his attention to the empty plates as he stood to clear the table.

“Let me,” she said, shocked that he was clearing up. “I will wash them, too.” She took the plates from him and placed them in the sink.

“No. I’ll do this. There should be a hair dryer in the chest of drawers in the wardrobe in your room. Go dry your hair.”

“But...” Surely he was not going to wash up!

She wanted to!

“No buts. I’ll do it. You’ve cleaned up after me often enough.”

“But it is my job.”

“Today it isn’t. You’re my guest. Go.” His tone was clipped. Stern. A frisson of apprehension ran up her spine. “Please,” he added.

“Okay,” she whispered, and hurried out of the kitchen, confused and wondering if he was angry with her.

Please don’t be angry.

“Danica,” he called. She stopped at the foot of the stairs and studied her feet. “Are you okay?”

She nodded before she dashed up the stairs.

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

*LORENZO*

What the fuck?

What did I say? I watched her retreating figure noting that she deliberately avoided eye contact with me.

Shit.

I had made her upset, but I don’t know how or why. I was tempted to go after her but decided against it and began to load the dishwasher and clean up.

Twenty minutes later, as I was putting away the frying pan, the entry phone rings.

Dante.

I glanced up at the stairs, hoping that Danica will appear, but she didn’t. I pressed the buzzer to let Dante in and turned off the music.