Page 19 of Win You Over

Remington

D ad offered to send a driver to pick us up from the airport, but I opted to drive Holden and me to our villa set in a beautiful sheltered cove nestled on the northern part of the island.

The drive from the airport takes us inland before turning back along the coast, giving us a glimpse of the crystal clear turquoise sea and white sandy beaches.

This part of the second largest island in the Mediterranean Sea is perfect for windsurfing and snorkelling.

Both of which I fully intend for us to do over the next two weeks.

“Wow,” Holden remarks, his face turned towards the window of the Maserati Grecale we’ve rented for the trip.

He puts the window down and sticks a hand out, catching the wind in his palm as we drive along the winding roads.

The air is warm, humid and cloying, and having the window open has the cool air from the AC rushing out, but I don’t give a shit, as long as he’s happy.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“I never knew water could be that blue,” he remarks, still not taking his eyes off the scenery.

He finally pulls his hand in and closes the window, the AC working hard to cool the interior of the car back down.

“Fucking hot.”

I scoff. “Ridiculous time to get married in Italy, if you ask me. But no one asked me. And Nadine gets what Nadine wants.”

“Sounds like someone else,” he quips. His voice is quiet, soft, and I wonder if that’s how he’ll always sound. Like he’s whispering loudly.

We fall into a comfortable silence as I drive, keeping an eye on the navigation system, while he watches the world go by.

When we pull up to the gates of the five-bedroom villa my family owns, Holden lets out a deep breath and shakes his head in amazement.

Sometimes I think Nadine and I take for granted how lucky we are to have a place like this to escape to.

The villa that sits nestled into the rocky hillside, surrounded by thick Mediterranean vegetation dotted with bright purple flowers on one side and the wide blue sea on the other, was an anniversary gift to my mom from my dad, and they spend much of the year here.

Through one window, I see Mom, her sun hat flopping over her face as she laughs at something my dad says.

They arrived a day before us, wanting to prepare the villa for our arrival.

Climbing out of the car, I round to the back, open the trunk, and take out both our suitcases. The thick air caresses my skin, making my tee stick to my back, and I decide the first plan of action is to throw myself into the pool.

Holden’s door opens, and he slides out, turning on the spot to take in his surroundings.

His hand flitters at his side, rubbing over his pocket.

His knife isn’t here. He didn’t know what the risks of taking it in his checked luggage were – admitting he hadn’t considered that when he first hid it in his suitcase when he was a kid – so he left it in his messenger bag in my room where it would be safe and away from any random guests his roommates might bring over.

I reach for him, twining our fingers together.

“You good?” I ask, giving his hand a squeeze.

He nods, his smile small.

“Wait until you see inside,” I say, unloading our bags from the car and dragging them behind me as I lead him into the house, where a blast of cool air welcomes us.

Holden is quiet now that we’re not alone.

I know he won’t be as quick to talk, but that’s cool with me.

I’m becoming an expert in reading his facial expressions.

Right now, his eyes are wide, his pink lips parted as his head swings around, taking in the soft hues of the entry hall.

The front of the villa on the ground floor is made up entirely of glass windows and sliding doors which open onto an extensive decking area, part of which is covered and hosts large, plush garden furniture.

The decking drops to a green lawn lined with pink and purple hydrangeas and at the end of the lawn, seemingly at the end of the world, sits an infinity pool overlooking a private beach.

Sunloungers dot around the pool, a colourful towel neatly rolled up on each of them.

I’m so mesmerised by seeing this place through Holden’s eyes that I startle when Mom comes up behind me.

“Boys,” Mom says, “I’ve put you in the room at the end of the hall on the second floor. It’s one of the bigger rooms.”

Oh. Shit.

I have absolutely no problem sharing a room, but we didn’t discuss this part of the plan.

Being near Holden, in bed with Holden, sounds like fucking paradise.

I want it more than I should admit given we are not actually in a relationship.

But his comfort comes first and if he isn’t good with sharing, we will make other plans.

“Could we take two of the smaller ones?” I ask, looking at Holden and then at Mom.

Mom’s eyebrows furrow. “Sorry, love, we have no spare rooms. Shit, I should have checked you were comfortable sharing. I just presumed...”

Mom looks out to the sea and I can tell by the way she’s chewing her lip that she’s trying to move things around to make separate rooms possible.

“If I move Rupert’s sister and her family to our room, they could probably fit the triplets…”

Holden’s hand on my arm grabs my attention, the warmth a welcome brand on my skin. My eyes meet his dark, rich ambers as he squeezes my arm and mouths, it’s okay, then tips his chin towards my mom.

Oh. Okay. Cool. I can be very chill about this. So we’ll be sharing a bed. Cool. That’s cool.

“Mom,” I say, gesturing with a hand between Holden and I. “We’re fine sharing.”

“You’re sure?” she asks the two of us. He smiles so big it reaches his eyes, causing little lines to journey out from the corners. I can’t look away from his face, even when I answer Mom.

“We’re sure.” I kiss his cheek, laying this relationship business on thickly.

Mom clears her throat, then gives a little laugh. “Okay lovebirds. Now hurry, get your swimsuits on, and join us outside. Dad’s going to order in. You both okay with seafood?”

Lovebirds? Guess she’s buying this, after all. My stomach gives a twinge of discomfort and sweat beads on the back of my neck despite the cool of the house. I fucking hate lying to her. But we’re this far. There’s no turning back now.

Holden and I make our way to the bedroom at the furthest part of the house.

It’s one with its own bathroom and a sea view.

The bed is covered in high thread count white cotton covers, with sky blue throw cushions.

There’s a bedside table – also white – on either side of the bed and a desk with a chair pushed up against one wall.

Double glass doors open onto a covered balcony on which you can sit at the glass-topped table and look onto the cove below.

When I open the doors, the room is filled with the briny scent of the sea, mixed with the sweet florals of the islands’ wildflowers.

In the distance, I can make out a super yacht and other smaller boats bobbing on the still, clear sea.

“Left or right?” I ask, pointing to the bed.

Holden jumps onto the right-hand side, splaying his arms behind his head and sighing contentedly.

“I should lose bets more often,” he jokes.

“Not so bad, is it? Two weeks of this? Pure luxury. Added bonus?”

He looks at me, one eyebrow raised. I lie on the bed next to him, mirroring his position, my arms behind my head like a pillow.

“The bonus is, you get to spend two weeks in my award-winning company.”

He knocks his elbow into my arm, jabbing me playfully, but then not moving away. Our arms remain touching as we both lie on the bed. My eyes are heavy, the jetlag settling in my bones the longer I remain still.

“Come on,” I say, nudging his arm, fighting the exhaustion as I roll to stand.

“It’s best we don’t fall asleep now. Easier to adjust to the time zone change if we push through.

” Holden groans, but follows me to our bags, where I pull out a pair of yellow swim shorts.

He grabs his own clothes and gestures to the ensuite bathroom.

“I’ll meet you down at the pool when you’re ready. Hopefully, lunch will be here soon. I’m so fucking hungry.”

Holden closes the door behind him and I strip down and change, then pad along the cool ochre coloured tiles so common here in Sardinia, down the stairs and out onto the decking. Mom and Dad are both outside relaxing, cocktails dripping with condensation on the glass table in front of them.

“I’m sorry about the bedroom mix up,” Mom says. I take the seat next to her, eyeing the romance novel she has in one hand.

“It’s fine. Really. When does everyone else arrive?”

“Your sister and Rupert will be here tomorrow morning, and his sister and her family, as well as the three bridesmaids, arrive later tomorrow evening.”

“And then the fun really begins,” I remark.

“You have a week before anything wedding related. What have you got planned?” Dad asks.

“Hiking, a lot of eating and swimming, and a boat trip to La Maddalena. And whatever else Holden wants to do.”

My dad nods in approval, and Mom makes a few suggestions of her own, including a day in Porto Cervo where there is an array of amazing restaurants to choose from, and in the summer, epic beach parties. I make a mental note to run the idea by Holden.

Holden walks onto the patio a few moments later. He’s wearing black shorts and a vintage looking black t-shirt with a faded film poster on it, a total contrast to the almost neon of my shorts and my naked torso. His hair is tied back, and he’s wearing a pair of blue tinted sunglasses.