Hayden

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had nothing to do.

I’d left the tender just before ten with a small overnight bag that included my satellite phone and my bug sweeper. Once I’d checked into the hotel, worked out in the gym and had a shower, my skin had started to itch from boredom and boredom led to more thoughts of Avery. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. I’d come ashore to escape Avery Walker and here I didn’t even have work to distract me.

I wandered into the lobby, scraping a hand through my still-damp hair. I’d go and explore Taormina, pick up a newspaper, have a coffee, keep my options open—it wasn’t like I had plans.

“Signor Wolf,” the porter addressed me as I strode through the lobby. “Any plans on this beautiful day?”

“Just a little walk,” I said. It would be nice to stretch my legs and enjoy solid ground. Maybe I’d run into a beautiful Italian girl who would scorch Avery from my mind.

“Don’t miss out on our Greek theater,” he continued, smiling at me.

Sophocles was the last thing I was after. I’d come here to relax, and although I might be bored and in need of distraction, I wasn’t in the mood for a Greek tragedy. I smiled and continued on my way. The porter followed.

“Turn right, up the hill just a few steps and it’s right there. It is a very beautiful view,” he said.

I frowned. A panorama wasn’t the first thing a theater was ordinarily known for, but with nothing better to do, I thanked him and decided to turn right out of the hotel after all. I was already one coffee down this morning and my second one could wait while I investigated a little. Perhaps it would help take my mind off things.

I slipped my sunglasses over my eyes and headed up the hill. The heat crawled over my skin as if it were trying to steal my breath, and I slowed my pace. I’d grown accustomed to the breeze on the yacht and how it took away the stickiness of the humidity. There was no respite now I was on solid ground—it was a different planet.

As I took long, slow strides along the road, I imagined Avery wandering these streets and a sense of pleasure settled in my gut. She’d always wanted to come here, and I’d made it happen. I’d hated seeing her so upset about her father. I’d wanted to bring her smile back, and I’d hoped a day in Taormina would do that.

Avery had been nothing but professional since that day just nearly two weeks ago, but she remained careful to maintain her distance. I understood there were rules between guests and crew, but I was used to exceptions being made for me.

I was used to getting what I wanted.

I wasn’t used to wanting a particular woman. It never got to that point.

But I wanted Avery.

I wanted to pull the hairband out of her hair, scrunch up her skirt, untuck her blouse and slide my hands over her skin. I’d seen glimpses of the real Avery beneath the professional veneer, but I wanted to pull that wall down for good. I wanted to unravel her, show her how good I could make her feel, hear her scream my name.

Shit.

So much for distracting myself.

Luckily, before me were the ruins of a Greek theater almost erupting out of the ground. I wasn’t going to have to endure a play, just take in the ancient stones.

Someone tugged at my shirt and when I turned a short, elderly lady wearing a headscarf waved a book at me. I bent slightly and tried to see what she was offering me. It was a small guidebook with an image of the orange-pink brick structure right in front of me.

I pulled out my wallet and exchanged my cash for her book and she scurried off to the next potential customer.

I paid the entrance fee and stepped through a cave-like corridor back into the bright sunlight and onto the wooden floor of the amphitheater. On my left the wood continued, built over the original brick-and-stone-stepped amphitheater. Modern seats had been fixed to the boxed-in levels. The place was clearly still used. Toward the back the original brick was exposed and the crumbling, dirty, orange walls stood out against a background of bright blue sky. I turned to take in the whole space. On my right was a wooden stage in front of half-remaining Greek columns and more dilapidated brickwork, the sea and the sky filling in the gaps left by age. It was so perfectly decayed it looked as though a set designer had been here, assembling the background, ready for a performance, but the elements and passing time had created this place’s background.

I headed up the steps past the modern seating. When I got to the top I turned and instinctively took half a step back, overwhelmed by what I saw—the blue of the sky bled into the warm sea, which dipped and clung to the curves of the land leading up to Mount Etna looking over everything.

It was stunning. Epic.

Something had led me here, as if I’d been meant to see this. To gain this perspective. The people who’d built this beautiful ruin had climbed these stairs thousands of years ago. Mount Etna had looked over them while they’d worked just as it did now as I worked on the yacht floating in the water below. The sun would keep rising and setting over this land whether or not I bought Phoenix. This beauty would still be here, yet I wouldn’t have seen it if it hadn’t been for Avery Walker saying it was the place she liked most. What else was I missing out on while I fought to keep a business that wouldn’t exist in a hundred years?

Thank God I’d done this and not kept myself cooped up on the boat, pouring over documents. My muscles began to unknot, and I smiled. Taking a deep breath, I tried to commit this picture to memory, wanting to press the history and beauty into my soul somehow.

“Beautiful view, right?” a familiar voice said from beside me.

I turned to see Avery Walker, looking out and sharing the same picture I was drinking in, and now she was the only view I was interested in.