She's not visiting anyone. That much is easy to tell since there are no flowers nearby, no candles, no anything except that book she's still reading.
"Why are you here?"
I'm not sure which of us is more surprised that I'm actually asking this, the words causing her to look up. Her eyes widen when she sees me...and then she swallows hard.
Ah, signorina.
It was only at that moment I realized a part of me was hoping she'd be different. That her reading V.C. Andrews would actually make her immune to my looks.
I know how arrogant this sounds even to my ears. But it is what it is. Because women who knew what I was, what I have done—I have seen how they didn't care at all because of how I fucking look.
And this girl...
I expected her to disappoint me even more. To stammer like all the others did, to release a laugh that's a little too loud, to shift in her seat restlessly because she hasn't yet decided whether to flirt with me or be afraid of me—
But instead she says, "Why do you ask?"
Interessante.
"I wanted to be alone."
"So do I."
"I was here first."
"I'm sorry. Is this private property now?"
I'm more amused than offended when she goes back to reading right after she speaks. She obviously thinks she's put me in place, but too bad for her, what she's accomplished is worse.
"Why not move to another area?"
Because now, I realize I was wrong about her.
"Good idea." She turns a page. Doesn't look up. "I hope you find somewhere suitable, sir."
Mannaggia.
You are making things so much worse, with how everything you say and do only makes me more interested than offended.
She clearly isn't afraid of me...even if I can tell by the pulse on her neck that she is subconsciously aware I'm not like other men. I can tell that she knows.
I'm dangerous.
But here she is still, reading and ignoring me as she pleases, not knowing that every second she lingers in my presence, she's just making it worse. For the both of us.
"What's your name?"
"Sara."
You are such a beautiful liar,signorina.
Foolish, too, but foolishly brave at least.
I can't even remember the last time anyone has lied to my face like this, and so her lie has me doing something I haven't done in who knows how long.
I actually find myself smiling, never mind if the muscles in my face need extra effort to negotiate the new posture.
"If you're Sara, then I'm the pharaoh."