Draw Me In

by Megan Squires

  If it was possible to fall in love with someone in a totally platonic way, and to also have that someone be dead, that just happened. Leo’s mother was incredible. And the funny thing was, as I sat at the foot of the bed reading her letter to him, I think I actually fell in love with Leo a little bit. It was no secret that we didn’t know each other well. I’d had the hope of who he would turn out to be, but these qualities his mother penned in what I assumed to be her final moments shed so much light on the man that already intrigued me to no end.

  It wasn’t mine to read, that much I knew. But what a gift to see Leo through his mother’s eyes. Honestly, I couldn’t think of anyone that would be able to give a better assessment of someone than their own mother, flesh and blood. Granted, mine would probably have some choice things to say about me had anyone quizzed her on the subject, but there would be hints of truth in all of it, no doubt. She knew me in a way no one else did. Of course I loved my mom and was grateful for everything she’d done in my life, but I realized you didn’t have to be best friends with someone to love them.

  My eyes welled with tears at the thought that maybe Leo and his mom were that, though. Not just mother and son, but actual, genuine friends. And how tragically awful to lose your best friend before you’d even turned fifteen.

  That was more than I could handle.

  Thrusting the heel of my hand to swipe away the tears forming, I dropped the letter back into the drawer and bolted out of the bedroom.

  There was that noise now in the kitchen that hinted at life beginning to stir. The aroma that wafted through the halls confirmed my suspicion that morning was indeed in full swing in the Carducci Villa. I wasn’t sure who would greet me once I made my way into the kitchen, but it didn’t really matter, so long as Leo was there.

  And he was.

  Situated in an overstuffed brocade armchair, he had one leg crossed loosely over the over, an Italian newspaper in one hand, a coffee mug in the other. Sunlight filtered through the expansive windows, catching the dust and making it shine like golden specs of glitter dancing in air. Even the dust here was beautiful!

  Leo wore a light blue button up shirt, its sleeves creased neatly up to his elbows, and khaki pants. Aviator glasses were tucked into the collar of his shirt, which was unbuttoned just enough to where it was irresistibly sexy and not at all sleazy. Holy wow, did he look amazing.

  Gio and Ian were in the kitchen. I could smell the sweet hint of some sort of culinary feat warming on the stove as Ian, donning a checkered apron, flipped what looked like thick slices of bread with a spatula. Gio filled a cup with coffee from the maker next to him, and held out a plate for Ian to drop two pieces of toast onto.

  “Morning, Love.” Ian nodded, his attention still focused on the range in front of him. Gio gave me a warm smile, but no words, and I wondered if maybe he was the shy one in his family. Judging from their mother’s letter, it appeared that he was the younger of the two. “Making some late-night-toasting inspired French toast for everyone.”

  With Ian’s greeting, Leo lifted his head from the paper, wearing a full smile on his face as our eyes met. “Good morning, Julie.”

  “Morning,” I replied, walking into the room, joining him in the chair at his side. I tucked my feet up underneath me and curled into the comfort of the fabric.

  “How’d you sleep?” He folded the paper in half and set it down on the table between us. “Headache?”

  “Actually, I feel pretty good. Remarkably.”

  “Apparently so did my grandfather.”

  I groaned. How I wished that had just been a dream. “A thousand apologies for feeling up Renaldo. It won’t happen again. Promise.”

  I held out my pinky finger for Leo to take, but he curled all of his fingers into mine instead of just the one. Resting our interlocked hand onto the table between us, he said, “Not a problem. He definitely gets the least action out of all the Carduccis, so he was way overdue. Three centuries is quite a while to go without a good groping.”

  That was the wrong time for Gio to join our conversation. Again, he didn’t speak, but the rounded shape of his eyes told me exactly what he thought of our exchange, and probably what he thought of me in general. He was lowering into that awkward, about to sit down, stage with his knees slightly bent—a person-turned-hovercraft—when he popped back up and twisted away to rejoin Ian in the kitchen.

  “One by one, I think I’m slowly repelling your friends and family.”

  Leo glanced back toward Gio and shrugged, then smirked. “But I think you’re doing an equally as good of a job attracting other ones.” His fingers briefly squeezed mine before pulling apart as he crossed his arms over his body all too suddenly. Recoiling almost. His eyes peered just over the top of my head and I could feel them connect with someone on the other side. “Sofia.”

  At first I thought he was calling me by the wrong name, but then I realized it was obviously a greeting directed toward the buxom blonde that stood over my shoulder. When did she swoop in here? That little minx.

  “Good morning, Leo.” Her accent was thick, but the sultriness coating each of her words was so much thicker. She bent at the waist to gather her hair into a ponytail and stood back up quickly, certain body parts jiggling a little as they fell back into place in a good jiggling sort of way. Nothing on my own body jiggled seductively like that. “I finished two more kilometers after you left.”

  I actually stroked my chin with my thumb as I tried to decipher the meaning in that. Had they been paving a highway somewhere together in the wee hours of the morning? I turned around, half expecting to see her in a yellow construction hat, but was face to boob with a bright yellow sports bra instead. And the worst part? There was no detectable sweat on it, nor on her face or in her hair. In fact, she smelled like roses. Literally, the girl smelled like a frickin’ flower. Scrunching up my nose in frustration that she could not only look, but also smell, like that after running apparently at least 2.01 kilometers, I looked over to Leo for some kind of clarification.

  “Nice work, Sof.”

  Sof? Had she all of a sudden become a couch? At least my nickname, Jules, was likened to diamonds. That was one place where I appeared to have the upper hand and I would take it and flaunt it for all it was worth.

  But then I thought of what people often did on couches and I supposed that could be construed to be better than jewelry. Couches could be a lot of fun. I’d had a lot of fun on couches in my day. So they would probably beat out jewels every time. Unless we were talking about the family jewels here, in which case I so won that. If you asked a guy if he’d rather keep his couch or his balls, I was fairly certain the answer would be obvious. Booyah!

  “Are you okay?” Sofia drew her head back a little and looked at me like I might be a monkey or something equally as out of place in the Carducci great room.

  I’d just said booyah out loud.

  “Gesundheit,” Leo quickly recovered for me, even going so far as to pull a handkerchief out of his lapel pocket and flutter it my way. “Julie’s coming down with something.”

  “I am.” I nodded and lifted the rag to cover my face in its entirety. How long could I hide behind it without that seeming strange? Three, four days?

  “Same time and place tomorrow?”

  I didn’t like that apparently Leo and Sof had a place and time. I wanted a place and time with Leo. As I was whining to myself, I didn’t notice if he actually confirmed or denied it, but Sofia’s over-plumped lips flashing a toothy smile made me assume the former.

  “We went for a run this morning,” he offered as Sofia floated down the hall. And she literally floated. That woman was like a panther with her nearly imperceptible footsteps. She’d snuck up on me like I was her latest prey. “It was kind of our thing.”

  They not only had a time and a place, but also a thing? Oh mercy, I had a lot of catching up to do.

  “So you do like to run.” That made me look like an idiot because I had not only told him of my aversion to
running, but I had actual clothing that professed this deep-seated hatred.

  “I don’t mind it.” Leo brought his coffee mug up to his lips and took a long, slow sip.

  “Maybe I could go with you sometime. You know, to try it out to see if I still completely despise it. But we might have to scrounge up a hungry stray dog and tie a steak around my waist because I’m pretty sure my legs will only move that fast if I’m literally being chased.”

  “Julie.” He settled the cup on top of the newspaper and swiveled toward me so our knees lined up and our faces were close. I could smell coffee in his mug and lightly coating his breath. “I don’t want you to try to be something else for me. I want to get to know you, not a version you think I might like. I hope I’ve made it pretty obvious that I like you already. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

  “But you and Sofia have a time and place and a thing and a couch.” He squinted at me, which I discovered was what he did when trying to make sense of my words. Poor guy. Hanging around me was going to prematurely age him with the crow’s feet he’d gain from that constantly furrowed brow. “All you and I have are your family jewels.”

  Leo closed his eyes and shook his head, dismissing all of that verbal vomit trickling from my mouth. “What?” His eyes opened but that brow bone remained tight. “Never mind. Listen. Sofia and I don’t need to run together anymore. Just say the word.”

  I clenched my teeth and tried to do it, but I couldn’t say it. I wasn’t so insecure as to make Leo change his activities for me all because I, what? Because I didn’t like the thought of him and a near-supermodel skipping through the Italian countryside, her body parts jiggling in a good sort of jiggling manner, his light eyes flicking back toward hers, their fingers brushing one another as they floated through rows of sloping vineyards and hilly mountains bathed in golden, glittery morning light?

  I snapped that thought out of my mind and shouted, “Word!” Clearing my throat audibly, I added in a quieter tone, “I’m sorry. I mean ‘word.’ I’m saying the word. That does sorta bother me.”

  “Understood.” He leaned back into his chair. “How about you and I go for a walk? I know running isn’t your thing, so maybe we’ll take things slow.”

  I didn’t necessarily want to take things slow, but this was a good place to start. I nodded in agreement.

  “Go get some breakfast and meet me in the courtyard,” he instructed, his lips pulling into a coy grin. “I have something I want to show you.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Leo had his back to me when I opened the French doors leading out to the patio. Sunbaked red tiles lined the courtyard, a geometric configuration underfoot. The sunglasses once hanging on Leo’s shirt were now perched onto his nose, and his hands relaxed coolly into his pockets, elbows slightly curved, arms hanging weightless at his sides.

  “Hey,” he said as he sensed me come up behind him. “There you are.”

  I hooked my arms into the gaps of his and curled my hands up onto his shoulders and pressed my cheek to his back. This felt completely foreign to me—displaying such obvious signs of affection toward a man. But for as foreign as it was, it felt equally natural, like my body knew how to articulate the feelings trapped within it. Like I’d somehow assimilated into this foreign culture instantly.

  Had I not just read Leo’s mother’s letter, I’m not sure I would have been so bold, but my feelings for him were taking on a new boldness, so it should only be expected that the rest of me would, too. Something spilling over within my being.

  “I’m really glad you’re here, Julie.” His head angled into mine.

  “Me too.” I tugged him tighter, my chest pressing into the curve of his muscled back. “Thank you for hiring me.”

  “Of course. I can’t think of anyone better to create what we’re looking for. Plus, you now know Renaldo on a much deeper level than the rest of us combined.”

  I sighed through my mouth. “I’m never going to live that one down, am I?”

  Spinning on his heel to face me, Leo looked down into my eyes and laughed. “No, probably not.” Then he flicked the tip of my nose with his index finger and said, “Follow me.”

  I felt like I was sixteen again as we walked hand in hand down the patio toward a gravel pathway that stretched down the hillside. There was an innocence in our handholding, and an innocence in quite a lot when it came to Leo. But maybe what was masked as innocence was actually something else altogether. Maybe he was just an honest-to-goodness gentleman, because it was clear Leo was not the playboy businessman so many of the tabloids made him out to be with their twisted captions and misconstrued images. They’d portrayed him in a completely different light, only focusing on his massive sex appeal and the many zeros attached to his family’s name. Society had an ideal for men like Leo, and even if his real life persona didn’t fit the description, they would mold and manipulate whatever necessary in order to make that match.

  I made a mental note to talk with Ian this afternoon about the direction and scope of the images he had planned for Leo’s magazine spread. While I was all for depicting him as the gorgeous man he was, I could sense there was something much deeper to him than what coated the surface and what he allowed society to see. If anyone could pull that out of him through a lens, it was Ian.

  “You look very pretty today, Julie.”

  Really? In my ratty jeans and sweater? It was almost unfair to use that word as a description as we stood in the very center of something so magnificently breathtaking. Endless rows of vines curled around us, their buds just now beginning to form, green leaves stretching out of the twisted branches like fingers reaching for the sky.

  “Thank you,” I replied, tucking my chin toward my shoulder. I didn’t get nervous around guys. This felt different. This was different.

  “So this road we’re on right now,” he continued, the crunch of the gravel popping under the tread of his shoe. “This is actually an ancient Roman road that lines the entire property. It dates back to the first centuries.”

  The term ‘all roads lead to Rome’ had never been more fitting. “That’s really incredible.”

  “It is.” He planted his feet underneath him and I stopped alongside abruptly, my upper body still propelling forward. I very nearly tripped, but Leo’s tight grip on my fingers pull me to a steadied position. “This is my favorite part of the vineyard.” With a sweeping gaze that squinted against the sun cresting over the hilltop ahead, Leo nodded. “There’s so much history here. Such a well-traveled path.”

  We paced a few more steps. I listened to the popping and crackling underfoot and imagined a couple just like us walking this same path two thousand years ago. It was hard to bind up that much history in just one thought. So many years and lives all tied together over the centuries like links of a chain. So different, but in many ways, so much the same. We were all people. We all felt similar emotions. Under the veneer, we were all the same.

  I wondered how many others shared a walk similar to ours right where we stood. I wonder how many others might have been in the beginning phase of falling in love on this very path.

  “I learned to ride my bike on this road.”

  There it was. The start of that outer shell sloughing off. Leo’s mom said not to let anyone crack him, and I wasn’t about to do that. But I did want to get to what was inside of him. I wanted to be the one to chip away at that smooth, polished exterior and find out what Leo was truly made of. “As you can imagine, I totally ate it.”

  The worn cobblestones held cracks and divots so rigid that I found the toe of my shoes getting stuck with each step. I could only imagine how a bicycle wheel could wedge so deeply into the grooves.

  “I broke my leg right in this very spot when I was six.” He thrust a finger toward the ground and sort of stomped his foot for impact. “Mom pampered me for a full month as it healed, totally spoiling me with as much gelato as I could stomach and about fifty new video games.”

  I couldn’t help the inadverte
nt tears that slipped into my eyes. I manufactured another “booyah” fake sneeze to make it seem like my allergies were acting up in order to hide the fact that merely thinking about Leo and his mom brought me to tears. Why was this ghost of a woman making me such a mess?

  “You took care of her, too, didn’t you, Leo?”

  He wasn’t expecting that. I was certain of it. I figured he hadn’t expected much of what came out of my mouth, but this one statement utterly leveled him. It was almost as though I’d literally thrown my words at him and he had to catch every one within his grasp. And after doing so, the weight of them pulled down on him with a tangible, heavy force.

  “My mom?”

  I’d said too much because there was no way I could have known that unless I’d done some blatant snooping. Which was exactly what I’d done. And though I should have felt remorse over it, I was honestly counting the seconds until I could slide open that nightstand drawer once more and read it all over again. Relive her thoughts.

  “Yeah,” I pressed. “She was sick, wasn’t she?”

  His Adam’s apple stuck out more prominently in his throat than usual and I could see it pull up and down slowly with the intentional, guarded swallow. “She was. And I did.” Those words were choppy.

  It felt like he didn’t want me to know more because he didn’t add to it and I didn’t push him on it.

  “Over here.” He waved me forward. “This is what I wanted to show you.”

  We wove through a row of vines that flanked us on either side like ropes guiding us down the line. Once at the bottom, the grapes thinned out and the pathway opened into a circular arena, small in size, but obviously an intentional part of the design of the landscape. There was a low wooden table immediately in front of us; planks of thick, splintered wood that resembled railway ties. And about twenty yards away, there were three separate bull’s-eye targets embedded in the hillside, all varying heights along the mountain.