Page 26 of When She Tempts (The Fallen)
I give up and place the basket on the ground. “Yes.”
“What’s his name?”
I give him a weary look. Giorgio really could have given me more clear instructions about what I can and cannot say to people. But he already introduced me to everyone with my full name, so it’s not a secret. If Polo really wanted to, he could just look me up and find out Dem’s name.
“Damiano De Rossi.”
Apparently satisfied with my answer, Polo nods and picks the basket back up. “Let’s go. I’ll show you the grounds and the garden, and then we’ll get to work. You’ll really be helping me out. There’s a ton to do this week.”
And that’s how he gets me. I’d be an asshole to say no to helping him, right?
“All right.”
Polo comes to my side and throws his arm around my shoulders. “I knew you’d come around. Now, soak it all in,” he says, gesturing at the yard. “The landscaping, the water features, that great old hunk of a castello—isn’t it glorious?”
I slip out from under this arm even as a smile tugs at my lips at his dramatic tone. He’s an interesting character. “Very.”
He laughs and places his palm against my lower back. “This way. We’re going to take the long way around, so that I can point out all the sights. Giorgio will have my head if you end up lost somewhere.”
We walk around the castello, with Polo pointing out the staff house, storage buildings, small gurgling wall fountains, and finally, the tower.
He stops ahead of it and shields his eyes from the sun with his palm. “We don’t use the tower much, but you get the best view from up there. If you’re interested, you can take the spiral stairs that lead up to the terrace. The place is a bit rickety, but it’s safe.”
I consider the old building. Unlike the castello, which is majestic and sprawling, the tower is narrow and prison-like. Tiny windows, gray brick facade. Not at all inviting.
“Maybe later,” I offer. “Have you been up there?”
“A few times.”
I turn to look at Polo, my curiosity about him stirring back up. “So when did you start working here?”
“When I was twenty-three. So two years ago.”
I was right. He’s not much older than me. “What brought you here?”
Polo flicks his gaze to me. “It’s a boring story, to be honest. My mom knew Giorgio, and she arranged it with him. I’d graduated university, studying agriculture, but there was no work. So I took the only option I had available.”
“How does your mom know Giorgio?”
“Knew. She died a few months after I started working here.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Polo ignores my condolences. “My mom knew his mom. They used to live in the same neighborhood.”
Strange. If this place is as big of a secret as Giorgio made it sound, how come he just hired Polo that easily? How did Polo earn his trust?
Our next stop is the greenhouse, which is just on the edge of the garden. Even from here, I can already spot the heaping tomato plants in the distance.
Polo holds the door of the greenhouse open for me. “Leave the basket here. I’ll show you some of the plants we have and that will be it for our tour.”
I enter the building and take it all in. The construction of a white frame closed in with plexiglass lets in abundant light and, as far as I can tell, the plants here are thriving. For a moment, I close my eyes, and inhale the earthy, wet smell. It sinks right to the bottom of my lungs, smooth and calming.
Polo comes to stand by my side. “There are a lot of herbs and leafy greens over here.” He points to the section on the left. “Tommaso uses a lot of it in the kitchen.”
I take a few steps closer and break off a piece of what looks like dill, bringing it to my nose and inhaling the distinctive scent.
“Many plants here are native to the region,” Polo says, “but some are from places far away. This is a kava-kava plant.” He points out a plant with big, heart-shaped leaves. “And Mexican epazote. And here are the usual suspects: tarragon, rosemary, marjoram.”
