He was already gone when she woke up. She wasn’t surprised; the sun had already turned the room gold when they’d finally drifted off to sleep after making love a second time.

It had been everything she remembered.

More.

It wasn’t just their bodies, which fit as if they’d been made to be joined together. It was as if their souls were pieces of the puzzle too, pieces that somehow managed to align perfectly in spite of their rough, jagged edges.

A nightmare lingered at the edges of her consciousness, but she pushed it away, focusing instead on the soreness between her legs that was a reminder of the night she’d spent in Damian’s arms.

She stretched and looked around. The room was filled with light, the open doors leading to a balcony beyond the sheer curtains blowing in the breeze.

For the first time since her rescue, she wondered what had happened to her phone after her kidnapping on Capri. She’d gotten used to being without it in Greece, but now she realized there were no clocks in the room, no way to know if it was afternoon on the day of her rescue or if she’d slept so long it was a new day entirely.

She sat up in bed and walked naked to the open balcony doors. She hesitated at the threshold, not wanting to give anyone below a view — especially the daughter Jenna had mentioned when they arrived the night before. Then she spotted the thick granite balustrades that would shield her body and she stepped outside.

The marble was warm under bare feet. She leaned her arms against the cool granite and looking out over an open field that extended to a forest line of trees.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The air was scented with oranges and rosemary, the breeze soft and gentle against her naked skin. She didn’t know how long she stood there before she heard the sound of children’s voices on the breeze.

She opened her eyes and returned to the bedroom, then ran a warm shower. After weeks of rushed washing in the dingy bathroom in Greece, always half-expecting one of the guards to bust in on her, she felt like she could shower three times a day for the rest of her life and never tire of the luxuries of time and privacy.

When she was done, she dried off and slipped on the simple shift dress that was in the red shopping bag Damian had given her on the plane. It was strange to look at the things inside it and realize they were exactly her size. She wondered if Damian had chosen them himself or if he’d sent someone to get them for her.

It didn’t matter. He’d come for her. He’d made sure she had what she needed when she was rescued. Most of all, he’d been there when she’d needed him.

She left her hair down, wondering how soon she could get it cut, then found a pair of flat sandals in the bottom of the bag and slipped them on her feet on her way out the door.

The hall was empty and quiet and she suddenly wondered if she’d be able to find her way back to the main part of the house. She’d been out of it when they’d arrived in the early hours of the morning. She had nothing more than a vague memory of crushed gravel, a fountain, a grand staircase, the kind woman named Jenna.

She decided to start with the staircase. It took two wrong turns down halls similar to the one off her room before she emerged onto the landing overlooking the foyer she remembered from their arrival. By the time she was halfway down the staircase, she could hear voices coming from the back of the house.

Following the giggle of a little girl’s laughter and a scolding, older voice speaking in Italian, she emerged into a massive sunlit kitchen, one whole wall open to a terrace that looked out over the same fields Aria had been able to see from her room. A plump woman with dark hair had her hands in the sink, shaking her head and muttering.

“Hello,” Aria said quietly, not wanting to startle her.

The woman looked over her shoulder. “Ah, good morning!” she said in accented English. “These children are making me deaf. I didn’t hear you come in.”

Aria smiled. “It’s all right. I’m sorry if I’ve disturbed you.”

The woman dried her hands on a towel. “Nonsense! You must eat!”

“Aria!” Aria turned toward the familiar smokey voice and found Jenna stepping in on bare feet from the terrace. “I didn’t expect you up for awhile yet.”

“I’m embarrassed to admit I don’t even know what time it is,” Aria said. “Or what day it is.”

“You poor thing,” Jenna said, rushing across the kitchen. “Let’s start you off with some coffee on the terrace. The fresh air will do you good.”

She poured both and gave instructions to the woman washing dishes to bring Aria breakfast.

Aria followed Jenna outside where two young girls were chasing each other through the grass beyond the terrace. Their laughter was as soothing as a wind chime and Aria found herself smiling in spite of herself.

“Is that your daughter?” Aria asked, taking a seat at a rustic table.

“On the days when I’ll claim her.” Jenna laughed but there was no doubt from the warmth in her voice that she adored her daughter. She called out. “Lily! Lessa! Come meet our guest.”

They stopped running and looked toward the patio. They seemed to consider disobeying the order before they walked wearily across the grass.

Aria knew right away which little girl was Jenna and Farrell’s daughter. She had Jenna’s glossy brown hair and green eyes, but there was something about the defiant tilt of her chin that recalled the man who had pulled Aria from the room in Athens.

“This is Lily,” Jenna said, smoothing back the little girl’s hair. She turned to the other child, a riot of black curls creating an ebony halo around her cherubic face. “And this is Lessa, Carmen’s daughter.”

Aria assumed Carmen was the woman in the kitchen. The little girl named Lessa was her miniature.

“It’s a pleasure meeting you, Lily and Lessa,” Jenna said.

“Girls…” Jenna prompted them.

They both giggled. “It’s nice to meet you,” they said in unison.

“Can we go to the barn, Mummy?” Lily asked, clearly on to more fascinating matters than a guest in the house.

“I suppose,” Jenna said. “Tell Anthony you have to be back in time for lunch.”

They raced down the patio steps and tore across the field, their shrieks snatched by the wind as they rounded the corner of the house.

“Poor Anthony,” Jenna said, taking a seat next to Aria. “He’s the caretaker here and Carmen’s husband, but I’m thinking about paying him Mrs. Pendleton’s salary when she’s not here. The children follow him like shadows.”

Aria felt like she’d fallen down the rabbit hole.

A lovely, sun-drenched rabbit hole.

“Mrs. Pendleton?”

“Sorry!” Jenna laughed. “She’s Lily’s nanny. She’s with her son and daughter-in-law right now.”

Aria nodded and took a sip of her coffee. She had to resist the urge to groan aloud as the dark, smokey liquid hit her tongue. It had been a long time since she’d had proper coffee.

She had a flash of the dingy room, the greasy takeout containers, the thin mattress.

She stuffed it down, into the dark places in her heart where she held things like the fire that had killed her parents and the worst moments of Primo’s mental illness.

Carmen stepped onto the patio and set a plate in front of Aria.

“It’s good?” she asked.

Aria looked at the poached eggs sprinkled with crumbled goat cheese, the crusty bread and fresh butter, the olives and the small dish filled with orange sections and figs.

“It’s wonderful,” Aria said, her stomach grumbling. “Thank you.”

The woman smiled and refilled Aria’s coffee before disappearing into the house.

“You’re not eating?” Aria asked Jenna.

“I ate with the girls,” Jenna said. “Please, you must be starving.”

It was an understatement. It hadn’t occurred to Aria to use the phone in her room to call the kitchen when she’d finished her bath last night. She’d wanted nothing but Damian’s skin on hers.

Had wanted only to feel him inside her making her forget everything but him.

“I am pretty hungry,” Aria admitted, picking up her fork.

She savored the first bite of eggs, salty and warm, then dug into the food without an ounce of self-consciousness. They made small talk about the estate and about the life Jenna led moving between London, Cornwall, and Tuscany, with occasional trips to New York.

By the time Aria finished eating, she felt like she’d known Jenna forever. She leaned back in her chair and polished off her third cup of coffee.

“That was delicious,” she said. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Jenna waved away her thanks. “Carmen loves showing off her prowess in the kitchen, especially if it means showing up Mrs. Pendleton, who has her own ideas about what everyone should be eating.”

Aria smiled. “A bit of a rivalry?"

Jenna grinned. “Let’s call it healthy competition.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Jenna spoke again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. “I mean, I know we’ve only just met, but Farrell and I went through some stuff a couple years back — nothing like what you’ve been through — but it was…” She took a deep breath. “It was hard. I was away from Lily for awhile, wondered if I’d ever make my way back to her, if Farrell and I would ever come through the other side of it all.”

Aria wondered what had happened, how the savage man who had saved her in Athens had come to love the kind woman next to her.

But it would be rude to ask, and Aria didn’t want to talk about the past.

She wanted to bury it.

“It’s all right,” Aria said. “I just want to enjoy being free.” She looked around. “Being here with… well, I assume Damian is here somewhere!”

Jenna laughed. “He’s with Farrell in the study.”

Aria nodded. “I’m sorry for what you went through with Farrell. It must have been hard to be away from your daughter, for both of you.”

“It was,” she said. “But we made it through stronger than ever.” She seemed to consider her words. “I heard you met Angel while you were in Italy.”

Aria thought about the blond woman who had welcomed her into her home outside of Rome while Damian had talked to Nico. She remembered their conversation in the kitchen, Angel’s own daughter, Stella, playing nearby.

“Was it worth it?” Aria had asked. “All the times when it wasn’t working out all right?”

“Without question.”

Aria had known beyond a shadow of a doubt it was true. She’d known from the shine in Angel’s eyes and from the love that seemed to vibrate between her and the unreadable man named Nico.

“I did,” Aria said. “She was lovely.”

Jenna turned the glass of iced tea in her hand. “It seems to be a right of passage.”

“What does?” Aria asked.

She looked up, smiled a little. “Finding our way to these crazy men of ours.”

“It’s an unconventional life,” Aria said. “But I can’t even blame Damian. My brother’s business wasn’t exactly aboveboard.”

“Still,” Jenna said, “it can be difficult in the beginning.”

“Just the beginning?”

She liked the fact that Jenna thought about the answer, that she didn’t rush to offer false reassurances.

“Pretty much,” Jenna said. “I mean, I worry about Farrell, of course. I’m sure Angel and Charlotte — ”

“Charlotte?”

“Christophe’s wife,” Jenna said. “He was with you in Athens, I think.”

Aria remembered the dark-eyed man with a subtle French accent and nodded.

“Anyway, Angel and Charlotte both had their share of challenges in the beginning,” Jenna continued. “It takes awhile to get it all sorted, to find a way to live in such an extreme environment. But after awhile it really does feel normal. They go to work, sometimes they travel, then they come home.”

Aria didn't ask the question at the back of her mind.

What if one day they don’t come home?

She let her gaze travel across the fields of swaying grass and tried to imagine herself in the future with Damian, in the place Jenna was where everything had been sorted.

Where they could live in peace.

It was too fragile a dream. There was still too much between them and any ending in which they would be at peace together. She didn’t know what was going on in New York, but she knew Damian wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d taken her brother’s territory.

And Primo — and Malcolm — wouldn’t go without a fight.