Relaxed after the on and off pleasure and sleep we acquired until dinnertime, we make our way to the main house with newfound excitement. The house is lit brightly from corner to corner, and there is an upbeat concerto piece blaring through the open windows for everyone to hear. We enter the villa, immediately finding Marco and Luca lounging, watching TV in the sitting room. I realize it's a spy movie dubbed in Italian. How they are hearing it over the music coming from the kitchen is beyond me.

"Back from the dead, huh?" Luca questions with a chuckle. Giovanni places his hands on his cousin's shoulders, squeezing in greeting. "Thought you guys were goners till tomorrow."

"Nearly. The smell was too good to resist."

At that, almost as if summoned by the compliment, Maria steps out of the kitchen and beckons us over with a sharp wave.

"Come! Come!"

At her call, we leave the men to their movie. Turning into the kitchen, I'm surprised to see that Maria isn't the only person inside it. There are two other chefs hard at work. One is mincing garlic carefully in the corner; the other is drizzling wine over the meat. Another person is setting up the long wood table that extends to each side of the room. There aren't seats, just two long benches on either side.

Maria is with that person, folding napkins onto the plates beautifully.

"You didn't have to do all of this, Zia," Giovanni says, observing the chaos.

"My favorite nephew and his beautiful girlfriend come to stay with me for a week? What are you talking about? Of course I did."

"Don't let Marco and Luca hear that," Giovanni teases.

"All they do is sit and stare at a screen. Grown men! It's despicable. My sister is probably rolling in her grave at the thought."

Until now, I had thought Marco and Luca were Maria's sons. At their banter, I realize Giovanni had another aunt who passed away.

"Would you like some help?"

She says something in Italian, cooing as she approaches Giovanni, arms raised. He bends reluctantly as she clasps his face, smacking her mouth against his cheeks. I bite my lip to hide my laugh.

"Maria, Maria," he pulls back, "What do you want me to do?"

She lets him go, handing him keys. "Fetch some wine from the cellar, then. Dark wine to go with the veal."

I move toward him, but she grabs my hand. "No, I keep her."

Giovanni's expression hardens in warning, and she laughs. "I will be good."

With a quick glance that shows me what I'm about to have to deal with, he turns, headed out the way we came in.

"Scarlett. Bella. That's such a beautiful name."

"My mom loved Gone With The Wind," I confess to her with embarrassment, swallowing past the lump of nervousness as she grabs my hand, patting it as we walk towards the counter.

"Too long for me."

"Me too," I add with a small smile.

She gestures for me to sit. She takes a place next to me on the bench with a sigh. Her hair is up in an untidy bun, her lips painted with a creamy red lipstick.

"Tell me about yourself. Giovanni hasn't told me much other than your profession. You are a businesswoman?"

"I work in PR."

"Yes, Gio was your client. I read that somewhere."

Damn, right out with the weighty stuff. "Yes, he was."

"And you make good money in that profession?"

"I've obtained a fair amount of money. Yeah." It's actually a very, very fair amount of money, but I don't want to let her know that, unsure as to why she's even asking me about it in the first place.

"I admit I thought you were after him for that, so this is a relief. You don't seem the type of girl to take advantage of him like the other one. I'm never wrong on my impressions, and I like you very much."

"Well, thank you." I'm now fidgeting uncomfortably.

"Have you had many relationships?"

"Um, no. A husband. We're divorced now."

"You are so young to be divorced... Why did that end?"

"There were many reasons."

She bends her head to meet my downcast gaze. "He was a cruel man?"

Giovanni wasn't kidding about the runaround. "Sometimes."

"Does my nephew know about this?"

"He does."

The woman who was setting the table now begins to fill the available spaces with hot serving plates of food. With that distraction and the flute coming from the record player, my mind is becoming jumbled.

"Am I pushing too much? I'm sorry." She calls out in Italian, and within moments, one of the chefs brings over a cool cloth. She takes it and hands it to me. "You are flushed."

"It's probably the heat," I say as an excuse, bringing the towel to my forehead. The coolness helps. I glance to the door, wishing Giovanni would return. I'm usually not this out of my comfort, and I realize she's not even really pushing.

"I don't mean to overwhelm you. It's just that I've never met any of Giovanni's women. He wouldn't bring you here to meet us unless he really loved you, I know that."

I smile. "Oh."

The thought that I'm the only woman they've met pleases me more than it should.

"I want good things for him. Happiness, love, a good marriage, family. You do want a family someday?"

I stare at her, unmoving as stone.

"I haven't really thought about it."

Bullshit. I've thought about it plenty, and every time, my fucked up brain has told me to set the ridiculous notion aside. I cannot even take care of myself, let alone a child.

"Giovanni is wonderful with children. My sister's family, Marco and Luca's family, will be coming sometime this week. They are overflowing with children. You'll see."

I nearly grimace. "Oh, okay."

"You should think about it with him. It's important to have a big family."

I lick my dry lips, my eyes flickering to the woman setting the table. "Do you have children?"

She takes a calculating breath. "I am barren, unable to have children. I wish I could have had many of them."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Luca has three children that live with their mother. When they come, I feel very fortunate."

I'm cringing internally. Giovanni didn't tell me about his family's intense desire for procreation. I wonder if he feels this way too. We just got back together; I didn't expect the subject of children to be something on the list of things to go over.

"Are you close with your family?"

Thankfully, Giovanni enters the kitchen then, holding three bottles of wine. He takes one look at me and glares at his aunt. I must look redder than I imagined. I smile reassuringly when he sets the bottles down.

"When I left, she was a normal-looking color, Zia," he says, reproaching.

"It's just hot in here," I interject as his hand rests on my shoulder. I reach up to grab it, immensely relieved that he's back. I will definitely make sure he doesn't leave my side again.

"I only asked the important questions. Family. Marriage. Children..."

"ZIA!"

She smiles mischievously, standing up. I have to applaud her efforts. "Alright, alright."

"I'm not leaving her with you again."

"Gio, these are questions that need to be asked!" She takes a plate of what looks like risotto from the chef's hands. "You both are successful and aged enough to start having some children. Just imagine how beautiful they'd be!"

"It's extremely soon for a conversation like that. Drop it."

"Okay, okay, okay... what about marriage?"

"Zia."

She grins. "Kidding."

My gaze is firmly on the table, but I hear his sigh. He bends as she calls for the others to come in to eat and wraps his arm around my shoulders. My eyes close as he kisses my throat.

"I'm sorry for that."

"It's fine. Don't be."

"I won't leave you with her again."

I smirk slowly and whisper, "You better not."

...

After a healthy night of more sleep, we set out for the vineyards. Marco and Luca joined us. Maria had painting in town, so she stayed behind. I was relieved to hear it. Dinner consisted of many attempts by her to find out more about Giovanni's new lady, and Giovanni quickly shutting her down.

I have no doubt she wasn't kidding when she said he's her favorite. She treats him like a son.

The day was hot and dry but traveling through the countryside was just as beautiful as it was the day before. I never wanted it to end.

Giovanni's fingers entwine with mine as we walk towards the apartment, only lamp posts to guide the way.

"What do you think about taking off to the beach tomorrow? Marco told me of one that shouldn't be swarmed with people. We can rent a place overnight, take some time, just you and I?"

"I'd love that."

We start up the steps. "I'll tell Maria in the morning then. We can pack tonight."

"Will she be okay with it?"

"She'll be fine. This is our time together; she knows that."

"You're right. She probably wants us to spend the time alone. Work on popping out some kids," I joke, and hear his laugh.

...

My eyes greedily take in the view of the ocean from the window. Even as exhausted as we are, having been moving since we arrived here, we both have changed into swimsuits. My gaze shifts to him, specifically to the maroon swim shorts that end mid-thigh, perfectly formed to his body.

I throw a sarong over my bikini, just so I'm not walking across the street nearly naked, and take Giovanni's outstretched hand, feeling very much on vacation.

I never knew it could feel this good.

I lean my head against his arm as we take the stairs down one floor to the main level. The rustic, old lobby is empty, apart from the old man behind the desk. He begins to laugh, seeing us.

"You'll be a little overdressed out there, don't ya think?"

Giovanni slows, looking down at me and then at him with a quizzical brow. "Che cosa?"

"È una spiaggia nudista, signore."

"Excuse me?" Giovanni presses in disbelief. I don't have to know Italian to get what "nudista" means. I begin to laugh, looking down at my feet. This is definitely Marco's doing.

"It's a nude beach."

"I got that." I bite down on my lip, feeling my cheeks flame at the thought of it. "They won't mind if we keep our suits on, right?"

"There isn't anything against it, no," the man says with a shake of his head. Giovanni smirks, lacing his fingers with mine to urge me towards the door. The minute we're outside, laughter bubbles between us.

"I'm going to kill him."

"We're definitely about to get the full experience."

We cross the street, avoiding the cars circling the roundabout. The air is thick with humidity; the sea breeze grows stronger as we take the walkway to the beach. My sandals sink into the sand as the buildings clear, revealing a large beach, scattered with humans dressed down to their birthday suits, naked as the day they came into the world. Large, small, dark, pale, man, woman– versatility fills the gorgeous beach. Unable to help the awe, my lips curve in barely suppressed amusement at the sight. I hold myself together, determined to remain cool and steer clear of becoming the typical American stereotype.

"If you're uncomfortable with this–" Giovanni begins. I squint, shaking my head.

"It's fine... are you good with this?"

He shrugs as if it's nothing out of the ordinary. I'm reminded of Giovanni's words from many months ago. "I'll try anything once." King of taboo situations, I doubt this is at the top of the list.

We walk across the hot sand, and my eyes drink in the sight of the cerulean water. The waves have a fair choppiness to them, crashing into the shoreline with a surge of force. The minute anyone even turns to look at me, I quickly avert my eyes. I've never seen this many naked people before, ever.

Thankfully, Giovanni leads me to a spot that parks us quite a few feet away from the crowds. I'm actually relieved to remove my sarong, which sheds an extra layer. We lay a cover down, our long striped beach towels over it.

We garner a few looks, the oddballs out, as I drag Giovanni to the water without wasting another moment, not even to put on sunblock. I don't remember the last time I've been to an actual beach, years definitely. Many of them.

I skip into knee-deep water, the pads of my feet assaulted by shells, but I don't even care. I beam gleefully at Giovanni, who regards me warmly, walking in at a calmer pace. He walks right up to me, wrapping an arm around my waist to tug me close.

I hum, letting my hands drift over his sun-warmed skin.

"I like seeing you like this."

"I like being like this." My cheek tilts into his palm as the waves rock us. "I'm so happy."

"Maybe we should just disappear to an island, give up on everything else."

"That's actually sounding like a very tempting option right now... Just you and me and the open water."

"We'll achieve the finest leather skin."

I grin. "We'll become completely ancient. Heave all abhorrent technology into the ocean."

"Lose all sense of people skills. We'll only be able to talk to one another."

The current is continuously battering our legs. A wave crashes into my back, and I gasp as the cool water slams into my scalding skin. I hike up Giovanni's body like a cat, hearing his laugh as my legs circle his hips.

He looks up at me, his eyes lacking even a hint of what they have in the past week. Against the sun, they aren't charcoal black but gleam with a golden chestnut hue. His expression is unclouded, his features relaxed with a gentleness that tugs hard at my chest.

I feel his hand twist into my hair, grabbing a golden fistful, and just as I seal my mouth over his, he jumps, submerging us both.

...

We're both sun-soaked and swaying even though we're on dry land as we make our way back to the towels. Strangely enough, the nudity around us has lost its taboo awkwardness for me. I regard them briefly, actually envious of their confidence to lay it all out there.

Giovanni settles onto the towel, reaching for the lotion. I'm positive I've burnt in our time here already. I glance from him to the beachgoers, then to him again, a dangerous, bold feeling of courage coming over me.

"I think we should try this out," I tell Giovanni quickly, placing my hands on my hips. He squints up at me, his dark hair softened by the water, forming soft, luxurious waves. He doesn't get it.

I reach for the knot of string at the nape of my neck, pulling with a no-fucks-given kind of attitude. Giovanni's features suddenly pale with surprise, his eyes widening as I remove the strings securing the top to my back. I drop the bikini onto the towel with a deep inhale.

He doesn't yell or shout. Doesn't reach to grab something to cover me up with. His gaze melts as the seconds tick by, piercing my skin with a smoldering heat. They travel over my body slowly. I admit I lack the same amount of courage as I grab the corners of my bikini, letting my hands freeze against the string.

I guess the term 'When In Rome' still applies here.

When In Italy.

I pull the rest of my bikini down and step out of it, my heart suddenly lurching with nervousness. I hear a breathless explicit from Giovanni on the ground. I'm standing naked in front of hundreds of people.

Hundreds.

I straighten, biting down on my lip excruciatingly hard. Giovanni's eyes remain on my own, steady enough to light my cheeks on fire.

"Say something."

"I'm hard."

I laugh as the tension dissolves around us at his words. My eyes dart to his trunks, his hand pressed to a clear erection.

"Maybe you should wait to disrobe then, babe."

I regard him with egotistical pride, and he rolls his eyes.

"Get down here."

I bend down to my knees, and he grabs me, pulling me down the rest of the way. The water from his hair drips from my fingers as I run my hand over his silky locks. I feel my chest blossom with happiness, feeling so much as he lays kisses upon me with a rough, ungraceful forcefulness as if he cannot hold anything back.

...

My eyes flutter tiredly as I resurface, feeling warm sunbeams soaking through my skin. My head is rested on Giovanni's outstretched arm. Shit, I must have dozed off. I hope I applied enough sunscreen, or I will be in serious pain tonight.

I lift my hand to my eyes, rubbing them.

My gaze drifts to Giovanni beside me, laid out in all his herculean glory, one of my books raised over his face that he's reading. I have the grace to blush at the sight of us sunbathing in the nude, fitting in with all the people around us. It doesn't feel so strange anymore.

"Half the men on this damn beach have been looking over at you," he suddenly says, disrupting the silence. I scoff, turning to my side and then onto my front.

"I doubt it was me."

He laughs. "So, they were looking at me, then?"

I lay soft kisses along the soft inner skin of his forearm. "Wouldn't doubt it. You're quite something to look at."

I sense him lay the book down, and he turns onto his side, placing his free hand on my lower back.

"I've had to actively stop myself from looking at you like this."

"Is that so?"

His long fingers extend further as he drifts them over my spine slowly. "Mhm. Your breasts... your hips... your cunt on full display to me will never fail to arouse me."

"The fact that we're in public only makes it hotter," I whisper, meeting his gaze. He begins to grin mischievously.

"You're a freak." There's a hint of astonishment in his tone.

"So are you."

"That's what makes us perfect for one another."

I lean forward, and my lips caress his mouth searchingly. "I can't argue with you there."

His hand holds the nape of my neck as he stares up at me. The ocean rumbles with a satisfying groan behind us as the water clashes, the possibility of a storm brewing every second we're out here. Beneath his grip, as long as he remains close, staring at me like this, my happiness is sustained.