Chapter 83 Romance in Italy
Chapter 83 Romance in Italy
When we finally dock in Italy, the sun is just starting to dip, casting a golden haze over the sparkling port.
Adrian takes a call as we lounge on the deck sipping aperitifs, and when he returns, he’s grinning like he just pulled off the heist of the century .
“Change of plans,” he says. “We’re not heading out just yet.”
“Oh?” I lift an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“Because,” he says smugly, “your personal designer just stepped aboard.”
A petite Italian woman in towering heels and the most precise bun I’ve ever seen ascends the yacht’s deck, followed by two assistants dragging garment bags and armloads of fabric swatches. She glances at me, then at the men, then nods once like she’s already judged us and we passed.
“I am Alessia,” she says with a thick accent. “You—” she points to me, “—are magnificent. We dress you now.” She says sassily with her thick Italian accent .
I blink. “We what?”
Kostas chuckles. “You heard the lady.”
“You’re trying to seduce me with luxury tailoring?” I ask Adrian as Alessia claps her hands for her assistants to begin setting up.
Adrian smirks. “Is it working?”
“Yes. And I’m furious about it.”
Within minutes, I’m being measured, draped, twirled, and fitted like some royal fantasy. Alessia moves like a fashion tornado, muttering in Italian and pinning fabrics with lightning speed. I end up with four new gowns, two custom everyday sets, and a feathered robe so outrageous I consider wearing it to breakfast just to assert dominance.
By the time she and her team disembark, the yacht looks like a Paris runway exploded in the main cabin—and I’ve never felt more spoiled.
We head to dinner in the heart of Florence—candles flickering, wine flowing, laughter spilling into the cobblestone night. The three of them sit around me like bodyguards and lovers and conspirators all at once.
The flash of cameras doesn’t even surprise me anymore.
Paparazzi across the dock snap photos of us as we sip wine and kiss between courses. At one point, John grabs Adrian and kisses him full on the mouth just to watch the flashbulbs freak out.
I blow a kiss at the camera. “Get my good side, boys.”
Adrian smirks. “All your sides are good.”
After dinner, Adrian insists we skip the yacht for the night and head to a hotel.
Of course, it’s a five-star penthouse suite that smells like money and scandal. We barely make it through the door before someone’s mouth is on my neck and someone else is stripping me down. The sheets are soon drenched again. So is the balcony. So is the marble shower.
The next morning, we drag ourselves out of bed, sore but grinning, and head to the private track outside Modena.
The sound of engines roaring is almost as good as the memory of last night.
I get behind the wheel of a cherry red Ferrari, hair tied back, designer sunglasses on, and I drive like a woman possessed.
I take corners so tight the tires squeal. I hit speeds that make my heart hammer and the men watching me sweat.
Afterward, they’re all standing there like proud husbands and horny cheerleaders.
“So,” Adrian says, draping his arm around me. “Which one was your favorite?”
“Don’t make me choose,” I laugh. “But the Lambo was filthy. I felt like a villainess.”
Kostas winks. “That’s good to know.”
John grins. “Because we already bought it.”
I freeze. “What?”
Adrian nods. “Had it arranged before we landed. It will be shipped to your garage in Denver.”
I blink. “You guys bought me a Lamborghini?”
Kostas leans in. “Yes we sure did , Fast. Expensive. Head-turning. Just like you, and we ordered it custom built.”
And damn it—I might be the one behind the wheel, but right now?
I’m the one who’s speechless. These three men for some reason can’t seem to get enough of me , of our little arrangement or spoiling me . I kiss each one deeply in thanks and we head back to the yacht , apparently we are headed to the South Of France next. This is all part of my men's plan to help me heal and forget the loss we have suffered . I've been beaten down and hurt but I'm beginning to feel as learning to live with that loss . I don't believe the pain of loss will ever subside completely. But I'm happy that I'm starting to move on .
Our arrangement is unique no doubt, but I'm loving it . I have there gorgeous sexy men who absolutely allow me to explore my most intimate inner desires .