Roxana

"So, Marco, what can I do for you?"

I can't help staring at him, how he blends in the darkness, how that ambiguous look on his face is unsettling me still, and I am not sure what to do. It does not really make sense to miss someone that you barely met, but in this brief moment, I feel happy to see him.

It's the end of April but this evening the wind is quite cold. Goosebumps are building up on my bare arms when the gushes brush them.

"I... actually came to see how you were doing. I see you are good, jolly, in great company, and..."

"Cold. I am cold. My only jacket is with Damian so let's go inside. Do you mind?" I say walking past him and opening the door to my container.

Is he slightly hesitating? I am not sure.

"Come on, you didn't wait till half-past twelve to not come in."

"Touché," he says, entering and closing the door.

"I will make myself a coffee. Want one?"

"No. As you said, it's half past twelve. You won't be able to sleep. Why do you want to drink one?"

"To sober up. I had four beers and I don't trust myself drunk. I don't want to say or do anything stupid. You still didn't tell me what I can do for you. Or should I tell you what you can do for me?"

Fuck, it slipped.

He just smiles mischievously and comes closer.

"See what I mean?" I continue while blushing and notice, not knowing how it came to that, that I am again pressed against a wall and him.

"Yes, well tell me. What can I do for you? I didn't manage to bring you a present so tell me, Roxana, how can I make that up to you? I was thinking of coffee tomorrow."

He is saying... words, but I see only his face close to mine and my body sensing his heat. See, I would really want some... coffee. But I smell of probably sweat and beer which is not so appealing.

"I would love some... coffee," I whisper, sounding probably very, very needy. Jesus, I need to do something about this issue. "But I can't. Stefano wants us to be done  with the roof on the east wing till Monday and the boys still have to exchange the tiles."

"But that's their business, not yours," he whispers and brushes his lips against my ear.

Dude, why are you doing this? I haven't had sex in three years, I am tipsy and now my panties are most probably soaked.

"It is. I am their boss and I told Damian, aka the guy who just wanted to tear you to pieces outside, that I would help. Won't let my team down. Bros over...Argh..."

And I swallow my unspoken words when he bytes into my earlobe.

"Over what?" he whispers while his tongue graces gently along my auricle."I could help you. So you finish quicker."

Quicker? Right now I would finish with light sleep.

"And after that, we could go for a walk or so."

"Am I being asked out on a date?" I ask leaning forward very intentionally, feeling the urge to slide my tongue over the right side of his neck but something is holding me back. Images of Bogdan screaming at me, of me on my knees in front of Ivan, and of Stefano unzipping his pants rush suddenly into my mind and I stop before touching his skin, slightly disturbed.

"If you want to give it a name you can call it that. But... Roxi? What's wrong with you, you are trembling?" he asks and puts his palms on my cheeks backing off.

All the sexy atmosphere is gone now.

"I am fine. I guess I am tired and had too much booze."

"Go to sleep. We can continue tomorrow. So what time do you start?"

"Six."

"So five hours of sleep left. I will go. Tomorrow at six I will pick you up, ok?"

"Yeah, sure," I answer still a bit absentminded.

"Are you sure you are ok?"

"Yeah, go. See you tomorrow."

I watch him leave still a bit reluctant and sink onto the bed where I fall asleep fully dressed within minutes.

At five-thirty I hear the alarm and want to throw the phone out the window. Groggy and with a pounding headache I shower, get dressed, drink a coffee, and eat some cereals. There is a knock on my door at five before six. I open to find Marco and Damian looking at each other in the same way as the evening before. I feel like laughing, just a little bit.

"Hello, gentlemen!" I say, trying to hold back a smirk.

"Was will der hier wieder?/ What does he want here again?" asks Damian frowning and looking Marco up and down.

"Er hat sich bereit erklärt uns bei der Arbeit zu helfen./ He volunteered to help us with work."

"Mhm. Weiß jetzt net' ob Dachziegel austauschen etwas für seinen adretten, anzugtragenden Arsch ist, aber meinetwegen, ich will ihn nur nicht jammern hören wenn er einen Nagel abbricht. Sag ihm das./ Mhm. Not sure if exchanging roof tile is something for his preppy, suit wearing ass, but be my guest. I just don't want to hear him complain if he breaks a nail. Make sure to tell him that."

"Mach ich. Ist auf eigenes Risiko./ Will do. It's at his own risk. Let's go." I gesture to both and start walking. 

"What did he say?"

"That he thinks that you are not fit for the task and doesn't want you to get injured and whine."

"Nasty. But I must admit it sounded way nastier."

"Nah, that's just how German sounds."

I walk amused behind them. It is going to be fun. At least Marco had the common sense to wear again T-shirt and jeans.

Bernardo is walking towards us from the front gate. He greets us with a nod. Even if Italian, he is not a man of many words, actually much like the black-dressed specimen that decided to join us today.

I agreed with Tomaso to call if we have difficulties communicating but so far the previous times we managed somehow. His work is much about showing and not so much talking.

When it comes to replacing or repairing roofs or other similar parts in old buildings, it's common practice to not replace all elements and make a brand new roof or wall, but to mix the old, but still solid, tiles or bricks with new ones to preserve the patina.

"Dobbiamo trovare le tegole buone e quelle cattive. Puoi differenziarli ascoltandoli. Questo è buono, questo è cattivo./ We have to find the good and the bad tiles. You can differentiate them by listening to them. This is good, this is bad," says Bernardo knocking demonstartively on two tiles. 

"Oh, so he said that the good tiles sound different from the bad ones? Huh?" I mutter to myself.

"More or less. Bravo, Pebbles."

I look at Marco remembering his presence and raise an eyebrow. Might come in handy after all that he is here.

"Sounds like a joke. They sound the same to me."

"No, the good ones sound sharper while the bad ones have the sound a bit dampened and hollow."

He is saying it like it is the easiest and most obvious thing in the world.

"Sure. Sound the fucking same to me."

"Nah... Listen," he says walking over to the stack and starting to knock the tiles against each other.

"Questa tegola è buona, questa è rotta. , Bernardo?/ This one is good, this one is broken. Right, Bernardo?"

"Molto bene, ragazzo!/ Very good, boy," says Bernardo enthusiastically.

"See, easy," smiles Marco triumphantly.

"Well, golden boy, since you are the only one who figured it out, you can mark them for us," I say handing him a chalk piece.

Damian is still eying him frowning with his arms folded over his broad chest.

"Just make sure to secure yourself to not slip or so. Okay? We don't want you to get hurt."

"I think I can manage," he says nonchalantly climbing unsecured on the roof in swift, fluid motions.

Showoff. Though I have to admit it looks kind of badass how he is moving.

"Ok Jungs, anscheinend muss man ein italienisches Ohr haben um die Töne zu unterscheiden, also tauschen wir aus was er anmalt. Los geht's. Rockenroll./ Ok boys, come on. Apparently it needs an Italian ear to hear that so, just exchange the one he marks, okay? Let's go. Rockenroll."

The method seems to be working and we are patiently exchanging the tiles. Unlike yesterday evening, the sun is pretty unmerciful today.

I am warm as fuck while I carry tiles to the roof and I am not wearing black... which reminds me.

I look up searching for Marco and my eyes land on him climbing again unsecured and now shirtless the roof slope balancing a bucket with cement in his left hand. My eyes are glued to his torso and the sweat beads that trickle down his abs. I was right; he is ripped.

One of the boys is letting his trowel fall. I grimace thinking it will hit him in the shoulder or so, but he catches the damn thing without even looking that way.

"That... was pretty cool. But don't tell him that, okay?" whispers Damian.

"Don't worry, I don't want to feed his ego," I answer smiling merrily.

It is working unexpectedly fast. Keeping this tempo we will be ready by two or three which is great news.

"Marco, che cazzo stai facendo lassù?/Marco, what the fuck are you doing up there?" Stefano is screaming from the balcony.

"Cosa sembra che io stia facendo, eh? Sto cambiando le tegole./ What does it look like I am doing, huh? Exchanging tiles."

I am not quite sure what he is saying but he seems pretty... unaffected by whatever Stefano is telling him.

Stefano frowns and looks at me briefly.

"Scendi, dobbiamo parlare brevemente con Hector./ Come down, we need to talk to Hector."

"Tra mezz'ora, ok?/ In half an hour, ok?"

"Va bene./ Fine," he says, walking away and rolling his eyes.

Not disturbed at all, Marco continues doing his work until all tiles are marked accordingly.

After like half an hour I lift my eyes with great effort to look at his, not down the v-line when he suddenly stands before me.

"I have to go now. Stefano has a call I need to be part of. All tiles are marked. My estimation is, that you will be done in two hours. So I will pick you up at five-thirty and we go for a ride. Would that be suitable?"

"Yeah, I guess..." I force an answer past my lips.

"Cool. Laters, Pebbles," he says patting my head and walking away, while I watch hypnotized the muscles in his back move and feel the heat creeping up my cheeks.

With tremendous effort, I try to brush it off and continue my work. Luckily carrying tiles up a scaffolding is hard and unpleasant enough to keep me occupied.

God damn it, I need to buy some clothes. I am staring again at my very meager wardrobe getting quite frustrated. I wish I was back in the days when I was staring at five dresses and not being able to decide what to wear, not today when I wish to have at least one to feel remotely pretty but only have old t-shirts and jeans.

Damn it. If I knew I would go on a date. Ha! It is a date, right?

In the end, I put on a plain gray T-shirt because it's the best one I can find and the jeans from last evening. It is what it is, but I draw a nice wing on each of my eyes and smile satisfied when I hear a knock on the door.

So punctual... Missing the Latin spirit of coming at least ten minutes late.

I do hope Stefano wasn't angry about having helped us. What sort of contract might he have since he seems to live here? Tomaso does not live here. Even if he works very late I see him leave most evenings.  Intriguing...

I open the door and can't help looking him up and down in a pretty shameless way. His wardrobe does not provide more variation than mine but damn he's fine in the black jeans and leather jacket.

"Hi there. So, where are we going?"

"For a ride, told you. Come on," he says grabbing my hand and leading me to the... garage?

This fabulous villa has an underground garage under the garden that I have never been in, but it seems I will enter it now.

My eyes wander over the really, really expensive cars in there, feeling like in an episode of Cribs. Stefano has... a lot of expensive cars.

We stop in front of a futuristic-looking motorcycle, unsurprising black but very sleek and definitely expensive. Stefano must pay his staff well.

"Nice boy toy."

"I know," he smiles and winks.

He hands me a helmet and a leather jacket, that were lying on top of the machine.

"Cool. Can I borrow these?"

"The helmet yes, the jacket is for you."

"Nah... Common."

"I bought it for you. Actually, Tomaso did. He will mind if he will know that he chased it in vain for three hours today and you don't like it."

"I do like it, it's just that I feel bad to receive presents and this one looks expensive."

"Get over it."

I smile and brush it off for the time being.

"I never rode on a motorcycle before."

"Well, I am honored to be the first to introduce you to this pleasure. First lesson, hold on tight."

"Where are we going?"

"To Siracusa. It's a nice ride along the coast now when the sun is setting. I just need to be back by nine because Stefano has a meeting we need to attend."

And it is indeed. Bewitched I stare at the blazing sun sinking into the ember waves while I feel the smell of sea, salt, and bergamot in my nostrils and the gushes of wind over my skin. I am drunk on my own illusions, on too many heartbeats a minute, and on the edge of poetry that this brief moment brings to my otherwise tragedy-resembling life.

The one-hour ride feels way shorter. I almost can't believe it and don't want to let go when he turns off the machine atop some cliffs by a solitary beach.

"It's just beautiful," I say, staring at the horizon,  overlooking the cliffs and the ancient city of Siracusa. 

"We can stay up here or go down to the beach. What do you prefer?"

"Hmm down, it's not so pleasant to sit on the rocks."

"You are right."

He puts a backpack over his shoulder and we descend slowly to the little hidden beach below the rocks. 

"What's in the backpack?"

"Booze, snacks, mundane stuff like that. Bernadetta made some panini. It's not quite candlelight Michelin stars dinner but well," he says, unpacking a little food plate with various sandwiches and a bottle of red wine.

"It's lovely," I answer enthusiastically and kiss him on the cheek. It actually is. It has been a long time since a guy did something nice for me, and the gesture seems terribly candid and makes me smile brightly, obviously, and dumbly. 

He hands me a glass and pours red wine into it. I look at the crimson liquid in the dusk light. 

"Wow. You bothered to bring real glasses."

He raises an eyebrow. 

"Of course. I don't want to ruin the wine by mixing the taste with cardboard, plus I like the clicking when toasting. To what do you want to drink?"

"Hmm to new beginnings and a better life. And you?"

"To guilty pleasures."

"Fine for me," I say making our glasses touch and looking at how the shadows and the bright golden light dance on his beautiful face.

At the same time, I have a half orgasm when the wine reaches my taste buds. 

"Oh my god, this wine is great. Where did you get it from?"

"It was a present," he answers simply.

"From whom? I don't want to drink wine from strange exes." 

I lift the bottle and look at the label. It looks really old.

"Amarome della Vallpolicella. Sounds also fancy and it's from Venice, even fancier. So who gifted it to you?"

"My father."

"Nice of him. Tell him thank you from me. Where is he now?"

"Dead," he says looking at the horizon and I feel like slapping myself.

"I am sorry, that was insensitive. I... I didn't know."

"It's okay, how could you? It happened long ago anyways."

"Well but time only dampers the pain it never disappears completely," I say, thinking of my mother, my father's death being still very fresh.

"Agreed."

For minutes we sit in silence and look at the waves, sipping wine and eating paninis. It feels unusual and still strangely familiar to me.

"I have never been to the seaside before. It is so beautiful watching it in reality," I say and let my head fall on his shoulder. I feel his smile against my forehead and afterward his lips. "And now," I say standing up.

"Now?"

"Now I will bathe in this turquoise-colored water because I have not seen such a color before in real life," I say, standing up, kicking off my sneakers, moving the t-shirt over my head and my jeans and socks down. 

Maybe I should not have drunk the entire glass of wine in one sip after an exhausting day but I feel so stupidly blissful I just can't help it. The sand under my feet feels smooth and warm and I run excitedly towards the water. 

"Roxi, wait." I hear Marco in the distance but turn around only after the water reaches my belly button.

"Damn, it's..."

"Cold. Yes. It's still the ocean and only the end of April, and... "

His words disappear when our eyes meet, like the last sun rays disappear into the sea. His hands are on my arms and I step closer, moving my wet palms over his chest. My fingers tremble slightly when I touch his warm skin. It's a unique feeling to touch someone for the first time after longing for it even subconsciously, as I did.

I look up at his face, into his eyes lifting my chin up. 

"You are beautiful," he whispers.

"Yeah? Then why don't you kiss me?" I ask bluntly. 

"I am poison," he says, smiling only briefly. 

"So dramatic," I counter smiling naughty and that was that. Because after that my wish is granted. I feel his hands on my blazing cheeks and his lips parting mine gently while his tongue moves skilfully inside my mouth. 

It was like opening Pandora's box because now it feels like sensorial overload: his fingers on my back and my shoulders, my hands in his hair, his lips caressing my face, and my tongue tasting summer wine and him. 

I have no idea how long it lasted but at the end, we looked at each other with panting breaths. 

"I... I think we have to head back; Stefano is waiting," he manages to say finally while his pupils are still dilated and his heart beats insanely fast under my fingertips. 

"Okay, but back off because I need a moment to compose myself," I say. 

"Yeah, same here," he replies looking down and laughing.

After a few minutes, we return to the beach and dress over the wet underwear. 

The whole way back I cling to him and to my newly hatched illusion. Maybe life can be beautiful. Maybe it will be after all. 

As we enter the outskirts of Taormina I feel him tense. 

"Cazzo. Roxi, hold on tight, okay?" he says out of the blue interrupting my daydream.

"Yeah, something happening?"

"Not sure, but I have the feeling we are being followed."

The last few kilometers we drive insanely fast on the empty highway till we finally reach the vila. 

Shortly after entering the domain, I see Tomaso and five other men hurrying over. 

Marco takes his helmet off and looks at them sternly. 

"Don Marco abbiamo un problema./ Don Marco, we have a problem."

"Lo so. /I know. "

I take my helmet off too and look at him irritated. 

"Don Marco?"

The fuck did I just do?

------------------------------------------------------

Monster chapter. So well, stuff slowly starts to unfold. What do you think so far?