Obsession by Lena Little
7
Carlito
“There’s a bag in the trunk,” I mention to the valet as I toss him the keys and my hand finds the Gucci dress that adorns the small of Carolina back, ushering her inside the restaurant I’ve reserved solely for the two of us.
“Why is he walking around to the front of the car?” she asks, looking back over her shoulder.
“The trunk in a Lamborghini is in the front.” Her innocence is refreshing. Most women that people try and set me up with have me in their sights like some sort of big game target they’re hunting. They research everything they can about me but I never let them get close. Sure they try and offer fake impromptu conversation topics and information about things I like when I frequent underground mixed martial arts fights and things of that nature but it comes across as too calculated, and too forced, and exposes their hand before they even get a chance to show their cards.
Not Carolina. She’s a breath of fresh air and the way her eyes light up when the valet pulls not one bag, but two, from the trunk, only confirms what I already know. She’s the one.
The drive to Positano, a sleepy little village on a hillside in the south of Italy was over almost before it even started. And at a distance of one hundred and seventy miles, that’s a testament to our conversation, and how easily everything flowed. I tried to keep it light, and she was guarded with personal information. Instead, we mostly talked about Italy and how she’d been excited to see it for the first time…until things went south.
The maitre d’ guides us to our table overlooking the water and I quickly order the seafood this part of Italy is known for and a couple of stakes, medium, to go with it. And wait until she sees the dessert tray after we’ve finished our meal.
Pulling out her chair she sits down and immediately the wind catches her hair. The ocean breeze is brisk and the smell easily recognizable, but my mind doesn’t lock onto it. Instead, I lean down and take a sniff from the top of her head, reminding me of the true scent of natural perfection.
“Everything okay?” I ask after a solid five minutes pass and not so much as a single word slips from those lips that look like she’s been sucking the juice out of cherries her entire life.
“Yeah. Sorry,” she says, turning her attention to me. “I’m just soaking up the experience because I know it will be fleeting.”
“FIrst times together do go fast.”
“No, I mean all of this. I know how guys like you operate. I’m here today, gone tomorrow…which is why I should warn you again, right now, that I’m not going to do anything—“
“You’re not comfortable with,” I finish. “And have I made you feel uncomfortable yet?”
“Anything but.”
I nod and the waiter arrives right on time, pouring us both a glass of wine.
“I…I’m not old enough to drink that,” she says, and I can’t help but smirk.
“In Italy you are.” I pause. “In order to truly experience this country as you should, it’s best if you stop thinking about the rules and regulations from your country because you won’t be going back there anytime soon.”
“Why, you plan on holding me hostage?”
“I’m doing a pretty good job of it so far, aren’t I?”
She giggles and the seam in the crotch of my pants tightens. “Well, we can take the jet to go there and pick up any other things you might have left behind, but it will be a quick trip. Just to get the things from your old home and bring them to your new home.”
“There aren’t any…things,” she says, but not in a way that’s to incite pity. She rubs her finger along the rim of her glass. “And that’s a good thing because it allows for a fresh start. Again. But I think this one has staying power. This one just might stick,” she whispers.
“Like a picture glued to a wall,” I respond too quickly, remembering what just the image and the desire to find her drove me to do.
“Is that a thing in Italy? Don’t you have picture frames and nails?”
“Just an expression,” I add, followed by, “that I just made up,” underneath my breath. “But this is your new country, your new home. I’m going to make sure of it and I’m going to keep you safe and help you achieve your dreams.”
“You mean it?”
“I never say things I don’t.” I pause, taking the time to wrap my hands around hers. “Ever.”
The sun begins to set and I have to remind myself that her breakfast in bed was actually had in the late afternoon. This day is almost over, but the fun is just beginning.
