CHAPTER 194: CHAPTER 194 MORE CHEERFUL

“Yes. It was a good school. I made good friends there. You met them.”

“Oh, yes.” Danica blushes as she remembers the two men in their underwear.

They settle into an easier conversation, and by the time they arrive home, she’s more cheerful.

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

*LORENZO*

We carry the bags into the house, and while Danica unpacks the groceries, I take her clothes upstairs. I put them in the spare bedroom, then change my mind and place the bags in the walk-in wardrobe in my room. I want her in here with me.

It’s presumptuous.

Fuck.

I’m tangling myself in knots. I don’t know how to behave with her.

Sitting down on the bed, I put my head in my hands. Did I have a game plan before we got here?

No.

I was thinking with my dick. And now...well, I hope I’m thinking with my head and following my heart. During the drive home, I contemplated what to do. Should I tell her that I love her? Should I not? She’s given me no indication of how she feels about me, but then she’s reticent about most things.

She’s here with me.

That means something, surely?

She could have stayed with her friend, but that would have meant those gangsters returning and finding her. My blood turns to ice. I shudder to think what they would do to her if they did. No. I was her only option. She has nothing. How could she go on the run?

She’s resourceful, but at what cost to herself? The thought weighs heavily on me. What did she do during the time between running away that night and being helped by Magda?

It must have been such a hard time for her.

The anguish in her eyes in the restaurant. It was...suffocating.

I’m tired of being afraid.

I wonder how long she’s felt this way. Since she got here? I don’t even know how long.

But I want her to be happy.

Think. What to do?

First. We have to make those men rot in jail.

Tom’s men will find them soon, that’s for sure.

What else could I do?

I could marry her.

What?

Marriage?

I laugh out loud, because the idea is so absurd. Why not?

It would freak my mother out. For that reason alone, it’s worth popping the question.

I could make Danica my wife.

My heart starts hammering. That would be a bold move. I was still so young. And maybe a little sudden.

I don’t even know if she has feelings for me.

I could ask her.

I roll my eyes. I am going round and round in circles. The truth is, I need to find out more about her. How could I ask her to be my wife?

I drag my phone out of my pocket and open Google to make more research about romantic love.

It’s dark when my phone starts to complain about its remaining battery life. I’m sprawled across the bed, reading everything I can about love.

Danica is cooking downstairs. Whatever she’s making, its savory aroma is enticing. I get up and stretch and head downstairs to see her.

She’s still dressed in her white top and jeans, and she has her back to me at the stove, mixing something in a pan. My mouth waters; it smells delicious.

“Hi,” I greet her, and sit down on one of the barstools at the counter.

“Hi.” She gives me a quick smile, and I notice she’s plaited her hair. I plug my phone into one of the charging sockets beneath the counter and fire up the Sonos.

“Is there any music you’d like to hear?” I ask.

“You choose.”

I select a mellow playlist and hit PLAY. RY X blasts out of the speakers overhead, making us both jump. I turn it down. “Sorry about that. What are you cooking?”

“A surprise,” she says with a coquettish glance over her shoulder.

“I love surprises. It smells good. Can I do anything to help?”

“No. This is my thank-you. Would you like to drink?”

I laugh. “Yes. I would like a drink. Do you mind that I’m correcting your English?”

“No. I want to learn more.”

“Would you like a drink?’ is what we say.”

“Okay.” She flashes me another smile.

“And yes, I would. Thank you.”

She sets the pan aside and from the counter takes an open bottle of red wine and pours me a glass.

“This will take another fifteen minutes or so to cook,” she says, and she taps her lips with her finger. There’s something on her mind.

“What would you like to do?”

Danica chews her bottom lip.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I’d like to talk to Magda.”

Of course she wants to talk to her. Magda’s probably her only bloody friend. Why didn’t I think of that?

“Sure. Here.” I unplug my phone and find Magda’s contact details. When the call connects, I hand the phone to Danica, who gives me a grateful smile.

“Magda...Yes, it’s me.” Danica moves to sit down on the sofa while I try and fail not to eavesdrop. I imagine that Magda is relieved to hear that Danica is still in one piece. “No. Fine.” Danica glances up at me, her eyes shining. “Very fine,” she says with a wide grin, and I find myself reciprocating.

I’ll take “very fine” any day.

She laughs at something Magda says, and my heart swells. It’s so good to hear her laugh; she doesn’t do it often enough.

As she talks, I try not to watch her, but I can’t resist. Unconsciously she winds a lock of hair that’s escaped from her plait around her fingers as she tells Magda about the sea and her impromptu dip in it yesterday.

“No. It’s beautiful here. I feel at home.” She looks up at me again, and I’m caught in her all-consuming gaze.

Home.

I could make this her home.

My mouth dries.

Oh boy! You are getting way ahead of yourself!