Page 58 of Beautiful Villain
“You’ll see.”
The trattoria sat on a hill high above the valley, stone walls glowing warmly as we pulled up.It looked old and stubborn, like it had outlasted centuries on principle alone.There were no other cars here.Just the soft hum of generators and the distant sound of wind whistling through vines.
Inside, the restaurant was empty.
A man I assumed was the chef met us at the door, enthusiastic and welcoming, speaking quickly in Italian and gesturing toward a private dining room at the back.Gianni greeted him easily, exchanged a few words, and then we were alone again.
The room stopped me short.
Floor-to-ceiling glass looked out over the Val d’Orcia, where roads lined with Cypress trees stretched into the distance under the fading light.Across the expanse, small towns began to glow one by one, their lights scattered like quiet jewels in the dark.
A table for two waited near the glass.Candles were already lit, their flames flickering softly and reflecting against the windows, as if the night had been prepared in advance.The air smelled of herbs and wine and something rich and comforting I didn’t have the language for.
It felt surreal.
“This is…” I started.
“Acceptable?”Gianni offered.
I laughed despite myself.“Beautiful was what I was going to say.”
He pulled out my chair.
Dinner unfolded slowly, as though time had been persuaded to move at our pace.The chef himself brought each course to the table, setting the plates down with reverent care, explaining textures and flavours in a low, proud voice before retreating again and closing the door behind him.
Every time he left, the room settled into a hush that felt intentional.
We ate.We lingered.We talked—but not about Archie or the invisible lines Gianni seemed to walk so effortlessly.Instead, we talked about the food, about where it came from, about places he’d been to and things he’d seen that had nothing to do with the here and now.
About nothing that mattered.About everything that did.
His humour surfaced when he stopped trying to manage the moment—dry, precise, unexpectedly sharp.It caught me off guard more than once, pulling a laugh out of me before I could think better of it.Each time, his mouth twitched like he hadn’t expected it either.
For a while, it felt like the rest of the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of us and a view that looked too perfect to be real.
“You’re different when you let your guard down,” I said, watching him closely.
His mouth curved, but there was no humor in it.“That’s dangerous,” he replied.“In my world, you don’t do that and survive long enough to enjoy it.”
“But tonight is different,” I said.
It came out more like a question.Because tonight, he had let his guard slip—and I wanted to know why.
His gaze dropped to my mouth before drifting past me, toward the windows.“Yes,” he said quietly.“It is.”
He leaned back slightly.“This restaurant sits at the highest point of Montalcino.One road in.One road out.Nothing nearby for miles.”His voice stayed calm.Measured.“Far enough that I don’t have to worry about snipers.”
My stomach tightened.
“See that light?”he asked, pointing past the glass.
I followed his finger.In the distance, far beyond the valley, a single light blinked in the dark.Isolated.Surrounded by nothing but shadow.It faded in and out, steady and patient, like something watching.
“That’s Monte Amiata,” he said.“An extinct volcano.There’s nothing there but…”
His voice drifted, like his thoughts had gone somewhere else entirely.
“Nothing there but… what?”I asked softly.
