by Lynsay Sands
“Your sister,” she murmured with disappointment. It didn’t seem to her to be a good thing that she was making him think of his sister. Not when her attraction to him was anything but brotherly. It seemed he must not be experiencing that attraction as she was. How depressing. Although that explained why he wasn’t trying to kiss her, she supposed, and wondered if he was gay. Jess would have liked to believe that was the case for her pride’s sake, but wasn’t egotistical enough for that. Just because he wasn’t interested didn’t make him gay.
“I’ll let you dress,” Raffaele said softly, and slid from the room, pulling the door closed quietly behind him.
Sighing, Jess glanced at the bags, but then crossed the room to sit on the side of the raised tiled floor around the tub. She needed money to leave Punta Cana, a lot of money by her estimation. She also needed a good excuse to borrow that money. Her adopted family was pretty amazing for the most part, and they would no doubt be happy to help her if she gave them a good excuse for leaving. But if she told them she was fleeing a pirate captain, who was also a vampire who had designs on her body and not her blood, they’d help her onto a plane, for sure. They’d even accompany her home, and then check her into the nearest mental hospital when that plane landed.
Groaning, she rubbed her face wearily and then stood to sort through the bags of clothes. She’d rather hoped price tags on the items of clothing would help her select the least expensive ones, but those had been removed. She settled for a pair of panties, dark blue shorts, and a light blue T-shirt with a tropical scene and “Punta Cana” written on it. She was skipping a bra in the interest of saving money.
Once dressed in the chosen attire, Jess peered at herself in the mirror. She looked okay. While she wasn’t used to going braless, you couldn’t really tell she wasn’t wearing one. At least, she didn’t think so as she peered critically at her reflection. The design on the T-shirt helped, she supposed.
Shrugging, Jess turned and headed for the door. She’d have breakfast, which at least was already paid for, and then she’d consider the best plan of action. Hopefully, once she’d eaten she’d think up a good excuse to give one of her uncles for needing to borrow money and leave early.
“What are those?”
Raffaele glanced up with a start at that question, and paused as he took in Jess. She looked incredibly young and carefree in the T-shirt and shorts she’d donned. At least on first impression. If you looked too closely at the forced smile and the strain around her eyes, the carefree part dropped away, though.
“Pamphlets?” she asked when he remained silent.
“Oh.” Glancing down, he peered at the pamphlets he’d been going through. After her protest about the clothes, he’d known she’d protest the expense of their renting a car and driving her to Santo Domingo too. The pamphlets had been his answer. He’d decided he’d claim they’d planned to take a trip to Santo Domingo anyway on this vacation and so it was no problem to take her along.
Raffaele had gone through the selection Zanipolo had given him to peruse and actually found several attractions in Santo Domingo that his cousin had apparently been interested in. One was an eleven-hour tour of the “historic” city of Santo Domingo. Seven hours of which were just getting there and back from Punta Cana. He’d shaken his head at that, and then spotted a pamphlet on a place called Parque Los Tres Ojos, which translated to the Three Eyes National Park. It had a group of interconnected caves that were supposed to be beautiful and worth a visit. And then there was the Columbus Lighthouse where Christopher Columbus’s remains were supposed to be. Apparently, the lighthouse was both something of a museum and mausoleum to the man.
“Parque Los Tres Ojos?” Jess murmured, mangling the words somewhat.
Raffaele raised his gaze to find she’d crossed the room to stand next to him. He handed the pamphlets to her with a faint smile. “Yes. It’s one of the places we planned to see in Santo Domingo. There are a couple of them,” he added, and she peered at him with surprise.
“You planned to go to Santo Domingo anyway?” she asked, sounding almost hopeful.
“Sure,” Raffaele said with a shrug, and suspected he wasn’t even lying. He had no doubt Zanipolo would have dragged them to Santo Domingo to see it, and not on one of the buses where the sun would have poured in the windows on them. He would have insisted on renting a private car, preferably one with air-conditioning and windows with SPF protection.
“So, it wouldn’t be taking you out of your way to go to Santo Domingo,” she murmured, shuffling through the pamphlets.
“Not at all,” he assured her. “We will take you to the embassy and see that taken care of, and then go check into a hotel. I am not sure if you will be able to get a passport right away, or if it will take a day or two. You are welcome to stay with us and join us on the tours if that is the case. We planned to stay for a couple of days.”
“Thank you,” Jess murmured, her expression thoughtful.
Raffaele watched her for a moment, wondering what she was thinking. She appeared to have agreed to traveling to Santo Domingo with them, but was thinking pretty hard. He suspected there was something he hadn’t considered, but wasn’t sure what that was.
“I ordered breakfast,” he announced, hoping to draw her from her thoughts.
Jess glanced up from the pamphlets and smiled. “Breakfast sounds good. But we didn’t have to eat here. We could have gone down to the restaurant now that I have clothes.”
“Zanipolo and Santo said the lineup was pretty bad to get into the restaurant,” he told her, which was true. The boys had mentioned that before leaving. “They said there was no one in line when they got there, but by the time they finished eating and were leaving, there was a line that stretched outside and along the entire back of the building in both directions.”
“Oh.” Jess glanced to the clock on the wall and grimaced. “Yeah. The lineup gets pretty brutal by this hour. At least it has since we got here.”
Raffaele nodded, and then stood and moved to the small coffee machine on the counter just inside the living room area. “Would you like coffee?”
“Oh, yeah, that sounds great,” she murmured, and moved to join him. They worked together, Jess unwrapping two cups and gathering powdered cream and sugar while he read the instructions on the small one-cup coffee machine and then opened and inserted one of the enclosed sacks of coffee.
“So where did the boys go?” she asked as the machine started to hum and brown water began to drip into the first cup.
“They went down to sit by the pool for a bit,” he murmured, not bothering to mention that they’d be under the biggest umbrella they could find. “We’re to join them after we break our fast.”
“Break our fast?” Jess echoed with surprise.
Hearing the words from her made Raffaele realize that he’d used the antiquated term for breakfast. Shrugging, he turned back to the coffee machine and slid the first cup out. He handed it to her and then began to prepare the machine to make the second cup and said, “English is my second language. Sometimes I get terminology wrong. I suppose I should have said ‘after we breakfast,’ or ‘eat our breakfast’?”
“Either one,” she said with a faint smile as she added the powdered milk and a packet of sugar to her coffee. Her smile widened then and she added, “I keep forgetting you’re from Italy. Your accent isn’t really Italian. It’s . . .”
When she paused and frowned, apparently unable to place his accent, he explained, “We moved around quite a bit when I was younger. I’ve lived many places over the years. My accent is probably a hodgepodge of different influences.”
“Ah,” she murmured, nodding her head. “That explains it.”
Raffaele relaxed a bit then and retrieved his cup of coffee from the machine. He then fixed it the same way she had, adding a pouch of the powdered milk, and a sachet of sugar. That wasn’t from preference. He didn’t know what his preference would be. Raffaele had never had coffee. By the time it had become the wor
ld’s beverage of choice, Raffaele had lost interest in food and drink. He wasn’t sure he’d like it. In fact, he wasn’t sure he should drink it. He’d heard the caffeine could have a deleterious effect on immortals. He’d only made himself one because she’d grabbed the cups and fixings for two and had seemed to expect him to have one as well.
“Shall we sit at the table while we wait for our food?” he asked, picking up his cup.
“Sure.” Jess led the way.
Once at the table, Raffaele moved quickly around her and pulled the chair out for her.
“Thank you,” Jess said softly as she settled in the seat.
“You are welcome,” he murmured in response, and moved to the seat opposite.
“So,” she said once he’d settled in his seat. “You have a sister?”
Raffaele blinked in surprise at the question, and then recalled saying he’d wish someone would help his sister if she were in her position. Nodding, he admitted, “Yes. Several of them actually, and a couple of brothers too.”
“Older or younger?” she asked with interest.
“All younger. I’m the oldest child,” he admitted, and then to keep her from asking questions he couldn’t answer, like how many years were between him and his siblings and such, he said, “I know you are adopted, but did they have, or adopt, other children, or are you their only—?”
“Only child,” she said softly. “Mom couldn’t have children.”
“Why did they not adopt others?” Raffaele asked with curiosity.
“Probably because I was so much trouble,” she said with a faint smile.
“I am sure that is not true,” he said quietly.
Her smile widened, but she said, “My parents loved me, and considered me worth the effort they put in, but I was a troubled kid, and did keep them busy.”
“You talk about them in the past tense,” he pointed out. “I take it they are no longer with us?”
Jess shook her head. “You know that cruise ship that sank several years ago?”
Raffaele narrowed his eyes. “An Italian cruise ship?”
Jess nodded. “They were on it. From what I was able to piece together, they’d had a busy day and were both tired, but Dad always had a walk in the evening after supper. He escorted Mom back to their cabin before leaving for his walk, and she was resting when the ship hit the rock that sank it. She never got out of the cabin. Dad tried to get to her to get her out, but had a heart attack. Some guests got him off the ship, but he had a second heart attack two days later and this time died.”
“I am sorry,” Raffaele said sincerely, and noted her eyes going glassy with tears.
Blinking them away, she turned to peer out the window next to the table and cleared her throat before saying softly, “So am I. They were really good people.”
Raffaele nodded, but some part of his mind acknowledged that it would make the choice to become immortal easier for her. She wouldn’t have to consider abandoning the relationship she had with parents who had saved her from the foster care system.
Realizing what he was thinking, and recognizing how selfish it was, Raffaele lowered his head briefly. The loss of people who had cared for, loved, and helped her heal from what had been a nightmare early childhood . . . well, it must have been a crushing blow and all he could think was how it might benefit him.
“I am sorry,” he repeated quietly, and raised his head, adding, “From the little you’ve said about them, they sound to have been wonderful people.”
“They were,” she acknowledged. “And I was lucky as can be to have them in my life for the seventeen years I had them. I honestly don’t know where I’d be if they hadn’t taken me in and cared for me.” Grimacing, she added, “Probably not a good place. Definitely not where I am now.”
Raffaele smiled crookedly. After everything that had happened to her, Jess still managed to see the bright side of things. Even when it came to the loss of the first really good people she’d had in her life.
“Fortunately, I had my aunts and uncles. They really closed ranks around me. I’m invited to every holiday and birthday party from both my mom’s side, and my father’s.” She laughed slightly. “In truth, it can be a bit of a pain sometimes.”
“How?” he asked with surprise.
“Well, one year, I attended four Christmas dinners in two days, plus a Christmas breakfast.” She grimaced and shook her head, before saying, “But it was good too. It helped me keep from moping around weeping at the loss of my parents, and not having them on special days.”
She fell silent, and Raffaele eyed her for a moment before commenting, “You are very honest about yourself.”
Jess glanced up, her eyes wide with surprise, and then smiled wryly and shrugged. “I don’t see a reason not to be.” She paused briefly, seeming to gather her thoughts, and then said, “A lot of people present a mask to the world. They lie about, or hide, their past, and even about things they like and don’t like in the present. I know it’s an effort to fit in and be liked, but that just seems stupid to me. Because when you do that, you aren’t making people like you at all. They don’t even know the real you. Isn’t it better to be honest and find friends who really like you for yourself than to have to pretend to be something you aren’t, and do things you don’t like just to have people around you?”
She fell briefly silent and Raffaele was about to agree with her when she suddenly shrugged and said, “Anyway, while I don’t hide my past, I’m not usually quite as forthcoming as I was last night. At least, not on first meeting people. I guess the stress and long swim had me a little punchy with exhaustion.” Grimacing, Jess added, “I’d like to blame it on too much drink, but since I did all my talking before the Long Island Iced Tea, and hadn’t had enough wine before that for it to affect me, I don’t really know what got into me.”
“Exhaustion and stress can affect people oddly,” Raffaele said gently. “Besides, it was a blessing in a way. I think you may have helped my cousin Santo with what you revealed and said.”
“Hmm.” Jess nodded. “He seems . . .”
“Troubled?” Raffaele suggested when she hesitated.
“Yes,” she agreed on a sigh, apparently relieved she hadn’t had to say the word herself.
Raffaele hesitated, but then admitted, “He suffered some serious trauma in his past, and a more recent trauma that has churned it all up. He’s struggling with it.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jess said quietly.
Raffaele nodded acknowledgment and then said, “Actually, he is the reason we are here. The family was growing concerned and Zani and I were enlisted to try to help him get past it. Or at least relax and forget about it for a while. It was beginning to consume him.”
Jess smiled faintly. “And how’s that working out?”
“Actually, he hasn’t mentioned his experience once since we found you,” Raffaele told her solemnly, and realized it was true. Dressler was the first thing Santo’s mind had jumped to when they’d spotted the bites on the resort guests. But he hadn’t brought the man’s name up once since Jess had told them about the pirates. That might be a good sign. Perhaps they just needed to keep him distracted.
“Well, I hope he’s able to put it behind him,” she said sincerely.
“But you don’t think he will?” Raffaele guessed.
“I don’t know. I’m not a psychologist,” she reminded him solemnly, but then added, “But from what I have seen so far in life and while working at the clinic, it works differently for everyone. Some people work through their issues on their own without counseling, others need counseling and get it, and then there are those who need it and don’t go for it, but just push it down, push it down, push it down, never realizing that while they’re pretending it never happened, it’s affecting every part of their life and every decision they make.” She shrugged. “But as I said, I’m not a psychologist, and I don’t know Santo well enough to tell you which he’ll be.”
“Right.” Raffaele bre
athed the word on a sigh. He didn’t know which kind Santo would be either. The man had never gone for counseling about the torture he’d gone through several centuries ago, but then there hadn’t been psychologists back then. He hadn’t been very receptive to Greg more recently, though, from what he could tell. On the other hand, he’d been very interested in what Jess had to say about trauma and how she’d handled it. Maybe he would be more open to talking to Greg when they returned.
“So, your family is close?”
Raffaele glanced up at her question and then smiled wryly. “We’re Italian,” he said with a shrug. “Always in each other’s business, so yes, very close.”
“And big?” she guessed.
Raffaele nodded. “Very big. Lots of aunts and uncles, and even more cousins . . . and we’re all as thick as thieves.” Grimacing, he added, “Well, many of us are anyway. Some live far enough away that we don’t see them often, but when we do it is as if we saw them just yesterday.”
“Are your parents still alive?”
“Sì. Yes. Very much alive and interested in everything I do,” he said dryly. “In fact, I’m rather surprised that they have not called to check on me yet,” he murmured, and frowned as he realized that was true. His mother usually called every other day at least, but he hadn’t heard from her since arriving in Punta Cana, other than her response to his text that they’d arrived safely. “Although they are probably getting reports from Uncle Julius or his wife, Aunt Marguerite,” he decided aloud.
“And who are Uncle Julius and Aunt Marguerite?” she asked with interest. “Zani’s or Santo’s parents?”
“No, they are my cousin Christian’s parents,” he explained, and then, realizing she had no idea who that was, explained, “He’s the fiddler in our band.”
“I thought your band was rock?” she said with confusion.
“It is. He plays hard rock songs on his fiddle. He’s quite good,” Raffaele added when she appeared blank-faced.
“Okay,” she said dubiously. “But he isn’t here, so why would your aunt and uncle have any news to report to your parents?”