Treasured Dreams (21 page)

Alessandro tore his shirt off, tossing it aside, and his trembling fingers struggled with his belt and pants. But soon he stood naked before her. It was her turn to ravish him with eyes that were warm hands caressing him with their intensity. He undid her shorts and tugged them down her long longs. Now she was wearing nothing but baby blue lace underpants. His manhood throbbed, pounding out an urgent beat.

Ginger's body was exquisite, her skin a luscious blend of peaches and cream, soft and silky beneath his fingers. She had curves in all the right places. He crawled onto his hands and knees, directly above her, and looked into her stunning blue eyes.

‘I'm the luckiest man in the world.'

She giggled and pulled him onto her.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Rosalina woke with a fright. The darkness was complete—no variations, no shadows. It was a couple of stressful heartbeats before she remembered where she was. Her body ached all over, but she was too cold to move. As the waves crashed into the cliff below with the regularity of a heartbeat, her mind drifted to the people she loved. She imagined Archer wouldn't have slept through the night. He most likely paced the lounge room back and forward, trying to piece the puzzle together.

She wondered if Nonna knew. The last thing Rosalina wanted to do was hurt Nonna. Since Rosalina was seven years old, Nonna had been both her grandmother and her mother. Filippo never knew their mother. Now that Rosalina knew about her mother's affair, it made so many things fit into place. Her heart ached over what her own father did to Filippo. He didn't deserve any of the hatred directed at him.

When her mother had died, her father became a different man. She'd always thought he was a mourning widow, but now she knew it was so much more. She remembered the months prior to Filippo's birth—it was a time of tension and unease in the home that had previously been warm and welcoming. Her parents had fought often and loudly. Before that, she'd barely seen her father. Much like now, she mused. Her mother had always been so quick with a cuddle but as her belly grew her hugs became less frequent. Sadness had taken over. Rosalina now knew why.

It was hard to imagine how different her life would've been had her mother lived. Possibly worse. Their fighting would have continued, inevitably to the point of divorce. Then who would own Villa Pandolfini? That was her home. It'd been a Calucci home for nearly two hundred years. And hopefully, for many, many more. Rosalina's greatest wish was to own Villa Pandolfini one day.

It suddenly occurred to her that it should never be hers. Rosalina didn't want children, and if the villa was to be handed down to the next generation, then one of her siblings should take rightful ownership. Her brothers and sisters had their own homes now, all within walking distance of Villa Pandolfini. She'd never imaged spending her married years living anywhere else. But maybe she had to.

Somehow, she would ensure Nonna gave the villa to one of her sisters or brothers.

The sky in the very distance began to lighten. Ever so gradually, it changed from black to golden. As she sat up, she rolled her neck from side to side, trying to release the stiffness. She flicked her skirt aside and straightened her legs so her ankles and feet dangled over the edge of the cliff. Her right leg felt alien with long hairs and scaly skin and her muscle was soft and malleable. Rolling her foot around, she felt no pain. As the sun illuminated the horizon, she welcomed the light and warmth of a new day. She was beginning to feel normal. Hungry, thirsty, tired and sore … but at least she had the use of all her limbs again.

Rosalina tugged the leaves and twigs out of her dress. Using the knife, she cut two long, thin strips from her dress, then she tied the knife to her thigh.

‘Check this out,' she said to the Jesus statue. ‘Lara Croft eat your heart out.'

She laughed at herself. The knife wouldn't be easy to get at, but she felt better knowing the weapon was there if she needed it. This also kept her hands free for scaling the cliff face.

Rosalina crawled on her hands and knees to the edge of the cave and looked down. It was about five metres to where jagged red rocks met with the ocean. To her left was the ledge she'd crawled along. Her stomach flipped at the sight of it. It was a wonder she'd survived at all. To her right, the ledge continued. At some point in the last billion or so years the earth had slipped sideways, creating this fissure; she was eternally grateful for that, or she would have died upon releasing from the window last night. Now, she had to step onto the ledge again. Just the thought of it made her queasy.

She rolled her tongue around her mouth, trying to produce moisture, but it was futile. Ignoring it, she curled to her feet.

‘Thanks for your company.' The sun's morning glow silhouetted the statue. As much as Rosalina wanted to take it with her, she didn't need its weighty burden. ‘This is where you and I part ways.'

With a decent hold on a rock, she ducked out from the overhang, stepped onto the ledge, and didn't look back. With the use of both her feet, it was much easier. Her leg appeared to have healed perfectly.

Time seemed to stand still. Every step was a stressful repeat of the one before. Her only judge of time was the sun's appearance over the cliff above her. She glanced at it regularly over her shoulder.

It was high off the ocean now, pouring heat onto her back and bouncing it off the rocks she hugged to create an intense furnace. Sweat dribbled down her lower back. Her fingers, knees, toes, hell … her entire body ached. Yet she continued along the never-ending ledge. It was impossible to judge how far she'd come, but it had to be at least a kilometre from Nox's hideout.

Suddenly she heard laughter and froze, listening. For a moment, she wondered if she was going mad. She stopped, her breath captured in her throat. There it was again. Talking, too. She looked down and there, farther along at the base of the cliff was a small boat just metres from the shoreline. Two young men, shirtless and tanned, stood in that boat, glistening wet.

‘Help.' Her throat was too dry; barely a whisper came out.

‘Help,' she screamed again. It was louder, but not by much.

The men jumped off the boat and vanished beneath the water. Rosalina shuffled along, desperate to shorten the distance between her and them. With one eye on the cliff and one on the boat, she readied for them to resurface.

They popped above the surface together, laughing as they held something up out of the water. ‘Help.' This time her voice worked. She saw them looking for the source of the voice.

‘Help! Up here.'

The men climbed onto the boat, shielded their eyes from the sun's glare to look up at her and smiled.

‘Help me.'

‘What are you doing, lady?' the one with long hair said.

‘Help me, please.'

‘How did you get up there?' The other one said.

‘Can you help me get down?'

There was a brief silence. ‘You have to jump.' He said it like it was obvious.

She looked down. It was at least four metres. ‘What about rocks?'

‘It's very deep here—goes straight down. Ten metres. You'll be fine. Just push off the wall.'

Push off the wall? She could barely stand, let alone push off the wall.

The men dived off their boat and swam towards her. She still faced the rocks and when she lost sight of them, she assumed they were directly below her.

‘Come on, we'll rescue you.'

‘Yes, we'll save you.'

She sucked in a few calming breaths to steady her racing heart. Then, ever so slowly, she picked up her left leg and put it at a right angle to her body, facing the ocean. Then she let go of her left arm and twisted around. With a gasp, she now faced the ocean and had her back to the rock wall.

‘Come on. Jump. We'll save you.'

She tried to steady her breathing. ‘Okay. Okay. Wait.'

She glanced down again. The two men were apart from each other, making a gap for her to jump into. They seemed a long way out. The sun blazed a furnace on her face. The rocks at her back were just as hot. Sweat trickled down her temples and her throat was as dry as desert sand. It was a long time before Rosalina realised she had no choice.

‘Okay. I'll do it. I'll jump.' She straightened her back, then sucked in a deep breath and let it out very slowly. ‘Ready?'

‘Yes.'

‘Yes.'

She rocked back and forward, trying to build momentum. Her breath shot in and out. She sucked in a huge breath, gritted her teeth and jumped.

Rosalina screamed as her dress billowed up around her face. She was only airborne for seconds before she hit the water. It was like plate glass, smashing the wind out of her. She swallowed mouthfuls as she tumbled in a frenzy of bubbles. Hands were suddenly on her, dragging her towards the dazzling surface.

Punching into the fresh air, she gasped for a breath.

‘We've got you.'

‘You're okay now.'

The men laid her back and as they floated her to the boat she began to break down. Deep, wracking sobs overcame her. She could barely breathe, and lying flat only made it harder.

‘Don't cry, lady. You're safe now.'

She reached up and wiped away her tears but still they came. In a cloud of exhaustion and relief she allowed the men to lift her into the boat and lie her down at the back. A water bottle was handed to her, and she swallowed huge mouthfuls of the cool liquid.

‘Are you okay?'

‘What happened?'

‘How long have you been out there?'

‘Where did you come from?'

They alternated questions, and it seemed they didn't need an answer because they kept going. It was suddenly important that she didn't mention Nox. At least, not until she knew what was going on with Filippo.

‘Do you need a doctor?'

‘Or the police?'

She wiped her mouth and her eyes. ‘No. I'm fine now. Thank you so much. What are your names?'

‘I'm Mario.' The one with long dark hair that settled on his shoulders palmed his chest.

‘I'm Marco.'

Rosalina laughed at their boyish exuberance. ‘I'm Rosalina.' They were delightfully happy. Exactly what she needed. She rolled the ankle of her left leg and it felt fine, no pain—hopefully that meant she'd done no damage when she'd jumped. Mario held a Tupperware dish towards her and peeled back the lid. It was filled to the brim with panforte and biscotti. She just about melted at the sight and reached for a piece of each.

‘So … you going to tell us how you got out there?'

‘Let me catch my breath first.' She ate a bite of the panforte; it was full of nuts and fruit, and beyond delicious, and she devoured it in seconds. The biscotti too was gone in a flash. Mario opened the lid again, but this time he placed the Tupperware container at her side.

‘Are you alright, Miss Rosalina?'

His concern nearly melted her heart. Her chin dimpled, but she fought back the tears. ‘I am now. Thank you so much.'

‘What you like to do?'

‘Do you have a phone?'

Marco playfully slapped Mario on the chest. ‘I always says to him bring a phone. For emergencies. You know. But he says we haven't had an emergency in twelve years, we're not having one now.'

‘This isn't an emergency, right, Miss Rosalina?' Mario looked at her with pleading eyes.

She wanted to say it was. A life-and-death emergency, actually. But she couldn't. ‘No, it's not an emergency.'

‘See, I told you.' Mario flicked Marco on the shoulder.

She needed Archer; she just hoped he was at
Evangeline
. ‘Can you boys take me to Livorno marina? I'll pay you for your time.'

‘No need to pay us, Miss Rosalina. It's not every day we rescue a damsel in distress. But you have to tell us what happened.'

She laughed again, reached for another biscotti and sat up a bit.

Mario climbed over the seats to the motor behind her and pulled on the rope. The engine roared to life, and as the front of the boat lifted and they scooted parallel to the shoreline, Rosalina invented a story about drinking too much and falling off the cliff. To her it sounded completely implausible, but the young men before her lapped up the story as if it were gospel.

Mario and Marco made the journey a delight, telling her all about their lives. Marco displayed today's catch. The white octopus tentacles nearly touched the bottom of the boat when he held it high in his arms. When Rosalina said she was a chef, they asked her opinion on how she'd cook it. Her suggestion of chargrilled octopus and haloumi salad had them both kneeling at her side as she described how she'd make that.

It seemed like hours before the masts of the enormous yachts came into view. By this time, Rosalina was sitting on one of the bench seats, and her dress and hair were now dry. Her tummy was full too from more than enough delicious treats.

For the first time since they'd moored
Evangeline
at Livorno, she was grateful the yacht was in one of the outer births. She stood up and started yelling before they were even near. ‘Archer.'

‘Archer!' Mario and Marco helped her.

‘Archer!'

They were nearly at the dive deck when Archer appeared. The sight of him melted her to tears.

‘Rosa!' Archer jumped down the stairs in one fluid motion and met them at the dive platform. Archer jumped into the boat and wrapped his arms around Rosalina and squeezed her until she could barely breathe. Tears once again tumbled down her cheeks.

Jimmy, Alessandro and Ginger were soon there, too.

For the second time that day, she allowed herself to be lifted up and carried. Archer took her up the stair and rested her on the lounge. Mario and Marco accepted a beer from Jimmy and told their story by bouncing the sentences between each other as they detailed rescuing Rosalina from the cliff.

‘Hey, your cast is off?' Ginger said.