tears that suddenly, and ridiculously, seemed determined to mist my vision. I would not cry like a silly, little child in front of this man, and I needed to end this tonight, because I obviously did not fit in a world like this. Yeah, it looked like Simon was wearing jeans, but god only knew what expensive designer they came from. Mine came from Target.
I willed my feet to move forward, to meet him halfway, as he descended the stone steps to make his way to where I stood. Unfortunately, they seemed to be rooted in place, and I had the distinct feeling that if I even moved one toe, I would burst into humiliated tears.
“Cara mia, che c'è? What is the matter?” he asked when he was within arm’s length, repeating in English, “What is the matter, Sofia? You look… sad.”
My throat went dry, so I gestured to the manor and the adjoining grounds. “This is a lot to take in, and I’m, well, I’m not sure. I’m beginning to feel like I’m out of my league,” I commented honestly. “I think all of this really was not a good idea.”
“I see.”
His gaze dropped to the ground, and when he did not say anything for several long moments, I figured it would be best for me to leave. He, however, did not agree, and caught me by my upper arms, pulling me back to stand directly in front of him.
“Sofia,” he began in a soothing tone, “in all the time since we met, have I ever once given you reason to believe that I, in any manner, look down on you? That I see you as someone less than perfectly equal to myself? Have I even once made you somehow feel beneath me? Have I ever claimed or indicated, in any small way, that my status makes me superior?”
Overall, I liked to think that for the most part, I acted like a mature person; however, given that I was only in my early twenties, I occasionally found myself reverting into teenager. “No.” My voice practically reeked of petulant chagrin, and I loathed my tone even as the words spilled out of my mouth. “But I’m—”
“What? You’re what?” He pulled me closer and released one arm to catch my chin in his grasp, tipping my head back to look into his eyes, now a deep purple in the disappearing sunlight. “I will tell you what you are, cara mia. You are a beautiful young woman in whom I have found a marvelous companion. You are intelligent, but do not flaunt it, and you have a wit you do not often show to those beyond your comfort zone. You are caring and compassionate, loyal to those who treat you with respect and kindness. Your acquaintance has brought me the greatest happiness, and there is nothing about you, amore, which I do not adore.”
Yet again, Simon Treviso rendered me entirely speechless, and I felt somewhat foolish standing there with my mouth open as I blinked in disbelief.
"Il gatto ti ha mangiato la lingua? Di nuovo?”
I was pleased that I was able to successfully restrain my instinctive reaction to apologize, instead pulling a face at his asking about the cat having my tongue again and earning a bemused chuckle for my efforts. “Funny. Really.”
My lips relaxed into a small smile, and despite my best attempt, the words slipped out. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to any of this, and by any of this, I don’t mean just—” I waved at the now-dark estate. “I haven’t had anyone speak to me the way you do, and certainly not treat me like a lady the way you have. I’m just not used to it.”
“Well, I can assure you I have every plan of making you ‘used to it’,” he said in a gruff, but gentle, baritone. “Such a charming young woman deserves nothing less than to be treated like a queen.”
“A queen? That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”
“Non.”
He was as somber as I had ever seen him be.
“Oh.”
“Indeed.”
I lifted my eyebrow with a grin at the familiar word. “Not your favorite, huh?”
“Not my favorite.”
I hummed my disbelief and allowed him to guide me away from my car and toward
I willed my feet to move forward, to meet him halfway, as he descended the stone steps to make his way to where I stood. Unfortunately, they seemed to be rooted in place, and I had the distinct feeling that if I even moved one toe, I would burst into humiliated tears.
“Cara mia, che c'è? What is the matter?” he asked when he was within arm’s length, repeating in English, “What is the matter, Sofia? You look… sad.”
My throat went dry, so I gestured to the manor and the adjoining grounds. “This is a lot to take in, and I’m, well, I’m not sure. I’m beginning to feel like I’m out of my league,” I commented honestly. “I think all of this really was not a good idea.”
“I see.”
His gaze dropped to the ground, and when he did not say anything for several long moments, I figured it would be best for me to leave. He, however, did not agree, and caught me by my upper arms, pulling me back to stand directly in front of him.
“Sofia,” he began in a soothing tone, “in all the time since we met, have I ever once given you reason to believe that I, in any manner, look down on you? That I see you as someone less than perfectly equal to myself? Have I even once made you somehow feel beneath me? Have I ever claimed or indicated, in any small way, that my status makes me superior?”
Overall, I liked to think that for the most part, I acted like a mature person; however, given that I was only in my early twenties, I occasionally found myself reverting into teenager. “No.” My voice practically reeked of petulant chagrin, and I loathed my tone even as the words spilled out of my mouth. “But I’m—”
“What? You’re what?” He pulled me closer and released one arm to catch my chin in his grasp, tipping my head back to look into his eyes, now a deep purple in the disappearing sunlight. “I will tell you what you are, cara mia. You are a beautiful young woman in whom I have found a marvelous companion. You are intelligent, but do not flaunt it, and you have a wit you do not often show to those beyond your comfort zone. You are caring and compassionate, loyal to those who treat you with respect and kindness. Your acquaintance has brought me the greatest happiness, and there is nothing about you, amore, which I do not adore.”
Yet again, Simon Treviso rendered me entirely speechless, and I felt somewhat foolish standing there with my mouth open as I blinked in disbelief.
"Il gatto ti ha mangiato la lingua? Di nuovo?”
I was pleased that I was able to successfully restrain my instinctive reaction to apologize, instead pulling a face at his asking about the cat having my tongue again and earning a bemused chuckle for my efforts. “Funny. Really.”
My lips relaxed into a small smile, and despite my best attempt, the words slipped out. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to any of this, and by any of this, I don’t mean just—” I waved at the now-dark estate. “I haven’t had anyone speak to me the way you do, and certainly not treat me like a lady the way you have. I’m just not used to it.”
“Well, I can assure you I have every plan of making you ‘used to it’,” he said in a gruff, but gentle, baritone. “Such a charming young woman deserves nothing less than to be treated like a queen.”
“A queen? That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”
“Non.”
He was as somber as I had ever seen him be.
“Oh.”
“Indeed.”
I lifted my eyebrow with a grin at the familiar word. “Not your favorite, huh?”
“Not my favorite.”
I hummed my disbelief and allowed him to guide me away from my car and toward
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