Page 154 of Punishing His Runaway Bride
Kids ran inside hand in hand. Laughter echoed from the hall.
I stood by the car, watching their backs. Sun hit the steps, the doorframe, spilling into the open doorway. Ezio stood beside me, silent. Breeze from the lawn carried flower scent and his presence.
"Let's go in," he said.
I nodded and followed.
Dinner was in the manor's dining room, long table shortened to one end, making it cozy.
Juliet chattered nonstop today, probably thanks to Leo. They bounced words back and forth, filling the table. She told him about kindergarten, ballet class, the little woods behind the manor she sneaked to without her nanny. Leo gawked, fired off questions, both getting more hyped.
I sipped half a glass of red wine, cheeks warming, picked at food, said little.
Ezio sat across, mostly quiet too, chiming in for Juliet now and then or picking up her dropped fork. He downed nearly a full glass, cup in hand, fingers tapping the stem idly.
He looked at me more than he thought I noticed.
After dinner, the nanny took the kids. Juliet ran back with Leo's hand, tilting up to ask Ezio if she could show him her room. He said yes, and they bolted off thrilled.
Room went quiet, just us.
"Want to sit outside?" he asked.
I wanted to say no, gotta go, got stuff to do.
"Okay," I said.
Garden lights were warm, low, embedded along the stone path, lighting it like a thin fire line. We walked along it in silence. Eveningbreeze cooled, carrying grass and wood scents, a hint of distant flower sweetness.
Table and chairs under the arbor. He poured two glasses of wine and handed me one. I took it, sipped a tiny bit.
"It's changed a bit here," I said, "like two new trees."
"Planted two years ago," he said, "you haven't seen, so it feels new."
Something in that, I didn't bite.
We sat side by side, vines twisting on the arbor, leaves rustling in the wind.
Good wine, smooth down the throat, but I knew my limit was low. Two glasses in, my face burned.
"Juliet likes Leo," he started, "she doesn't warm up to strangers easily."
"Leo likes her too," I said, "he's been talking about her since."
"Yeah?"
He loaded that word, I heard it, but ignored it.
Breeze again. His shirt collar still open, white fabric framing his collarbone. I glanced, pulled my eyes away.
"Olivia."
"Yeah."
"I want to ask something."
I gripped my glass tighter. "What?"
