She was suspended over the water, somewhere between heaven and the nightmare she’d left behind in New York. She hadn’t been a hundred percent sure of her decision right up until the moment she’d stepped onto the plush private jet on Long Island. But once they’d risen into the air she’d vowed to leave behind her uncertainty. She didn’t know what the future held — no one did — but she’d never felt safer than she did with Damian.

She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t define it, but she knew that much was true.

She was going to trust herself for once.

She looked over at him standing on the bridge, the wheel of the ship resting lightly in his hand. Sunglasses shaded his eyes, a strip of bare skin visible at the top of his chest where his shirt was unbuttoned. His strong jaw was uncharacteristically relaxed, his dark hair blown back by the wind, and she felt a primitive tug at the center of her body, the pull of her body to his even though they’d only spent one night together.

Now they were speeding toward an island that she could only assume was Capri. A shiver ran through her at the thought of being alone with him again. Of being naked with him again. Had she imagined the intensity of their lovemaking? Amplified it in the aftermath?

She didn’t think so, but she was looking forward to testing the theory.

The boat bounced over a wake as they approached the island. An invigorating spray of salt water hit her face. She laughed and Damian looked over at her with a grin as he downshifted.

The island was picture-perfect, the seaside town a series of slender, brightly hued buildings nestled closely together on a sloping hill under a mountain of rock. Sailboat masts rose out of the water like primitive church spires, their vessels bobbing in the water. She thought they would head into the marina, but Damian took a hard left, navigating around the village to a more remote and rocky shore.

The house seemed to rise up out of the water. The bottom was built of stone, the sea almost level with a walkway leading to an arched doorway. The structure was obviously old, rising four stories to a stucco facade with a patio that jutted perilously out over the water below.

Damian steered the boat toward a dock at the front of the house where a small man waited. He waved as they approached, then jumped onboard to grab two ropes before stepping back onto the dock and tying the boat to the metal cleats there.

“Buenasera, Signore Cavallo,” he said when Damian cut the engine.

Damian reached over the edge of the boat to clasp his hand. “Buenasera, Santino.”

They exchanged a few words in rapid-fire Italian and the other man jumped into a small skiff and began rowing away, grinning all the while.

“A friend of yours?” Aria asked, watching him go.

Damian took her hand. “Everyone is a friend here. Come on.”

He led her along the stone walkway, the ocean lapping inches from their feet, and into the arched stone doorway she’d spotted from the water. They were in a kind of cavern, the smell damp and moldy but not unpleasant.

“You’re not going to throw me in the dungeon, are you?” she asked.

His laughter echoed off the walls. “Not unless you’re very, very naughty.”

He tugged her up a narrow, winding staircase, soundless except for the strange rush of the tide which seemed to be all around them. She was beginning to think they would ascend forever, an infinite staircase into the sky, when a beam of light appeared above and they stepped into a spacious, sunlit room.

She blinked against the sudden brightness, taking in the expansive space, the cool tile floors, the stucco arches that were open to the sea. She walked to the edge and looked down, realized they were standing in the patio she’d seen from the water.

She was right, it did jut out over the sea, the stone walkway where they’d entered the building somewhere far below beyond her line of sight.

“Is it yours?” she asked, turning to look at him.

“Having to run is always a possibility in our business,” he said. “I wanted to make sure I had options if it came to that.”

She let her eyes travel the high ceilings, awash with sunlight, the old world furnishings that somehow managed to look modern too. “I have to admit this is a good one,” she said.

“I’m glad you approve.” He took her hand. “But we’re not done yet.”

The living room was adjacent to a big kitchen with everything they would need to make gourmet meals, both rooms sheltered at the center of the house, away from the heat and the stucco archways open to the water. Beyond the main part of the house was a labyrinth of hallways and more rooms than she could count, including a media room and a library. She was hopelessly lost by the time they came to a large bedroom, a massive four-poster bed piled high with simple white linens at its center, as if to announce that the room’s sole purpose was sleeping and sex.

As it should be.

The room was surprisingly spare. Other than the bed there was only a rustic looking bureau and armoire, and a small settee near a worn rug. The room was open to a terrace not unlike the one in the main part of the house, the sea framed in the arches like a fine painting.

“You don’t expect me to ever leave here, right?” she joked, stepping onto the terrace.

“No.”

The simple answer surprised her. She turned to see if he was kidding and was surprised to find that his expression serious. Her throat was suddenly dry, and she busied herself opening a door to one side of the room that ended up being a luxurious bathroom.

“I took the liberty of having some things delivered for you,” he said when she came back into the room. “You should have everything you need.”

“You’re not staying with me?” She was surprisingly disappointed by the idea.

He walked toward her, wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her hard against him. She gasped when she felt the length of his hard cock against her stomach, and an answering blush of moisture opened up between her legs.

“I don’t intend to spend one night away from you while I have you.” He swept her lips into a languid kiss that somehow felt like a promise. For a long moment she was lost to the feel of his body against hers, his hands on her ass, his cock throbbing against her, his tongue claiming her as his. When he pulled away she could hardly breathe. “I have business to attend to. Why don’t you rest or freshen up? We’ll have dinner in a bit.”

She could feel his reluctance in the way he pulled away, the way he held her hand until it finally dropped from his. He turned and disappeared into the hall, leaving her to wonder what kind of magic had been wrought on her life to bring her to this moment — and when the spell would be broken.