Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
I honestly thought they were also lying about a woman's fingers itching in their desire to run their hands through a man's locks. But I know now it's the truth, with myself as the mortifying proof of this.
"Stai bene?" Are you alright?
I know I'm supposed to say 'yes', but my mind is too preoccupied with how impossibly beautiful he is, and my eyes can't stop gobbling up every detail about him. Why are his lashes so long? Why are his cheeks so perfectly sculpted and his lips so kissable, and aaaaargh.
What's happening to me?
Horror and confusion make my head pound harder. I almost drowned, so why am I spending so much time obsessing over this man? Is this because I'm in shock?
My mind scrambles for an explanation, but I don't know how to explain it. Ezio Marchetti mesmerizes me in a way I can't articulate, and worse is how my eyes are still not done perusing every inch of him.
He really is the most beautiful of them all, I can't help thinking dumbly.
Even when he has the same height, the same build, the same dark hair, and bronze skin as his brothers, it's as if Ezio has that elusive X factor, a 'je ne sais quoi' kind of appeal that everyone desires to have, but only the rare few are born with.
If this were a fairytale, Ezio would no doubt play 'Beauty' while I'm...neither Beast nor Gaston. You probably won't even hear my name mentioned since I'd likely be cast as one of the background pieces of furniture that also talks but never earns any screentime.
There's just something about how every inch of this man has been sculpted and chiseled together that makes him different...and the most mysterious.
And that's another thing I can't explain.
He just feels so enigmatic, for some reason.
Maybe it's those dark, dark eyes of his, with how he's been observing me all this time without giving anything away.
A secret I've never told anyone is how terrifyingly easy I find it to read people's eyes. It's a gift that comes with being invisible, but it's a gift that's not without costs. Because there's no turning back, no way to unsee what I see.
And sometimes, what I see breaks my heart.
Eyes are supposed to be the windows to one's soul, but sometimes...
A person's eyes...
It's what reveals when they have no soul to begin with.
Even when I wish it wasn't so, a person's eyes can never lie, and no matter how much I wish that this friend in school or that person from work is someone I can trust—-
Their eyes always give them away.
It always has been so...until him.
And I just don't get it.
I stare into Ezio's eyes, and it's the epitome of soulfulness.
His soul exists, and it's the real him who's underneath all the urban legends and blood-stained legacy that comes with being a Marchetti.
Please make me understand, God.
Is this supposed to mean something?
Is there a reason why it's this man's eyes alone that I can't read?
And is it the same reason why he's able to save me?
"How are you feeling?"
He sounds concerned, but is he really?
"How many fingers do you see?"
I almost sigh in relief. Now that, I can answer. "Four."
He relaxes, but seeing this has the opposite effect on me.
Oh no.
The truth hits me all of a sudden, and a wave of nausea has me jerking to my feet. I
"Careful!"
He's on his feet as well, only he's not swaying like I am.
Ezio reaches for me, and I automatically jump back.
He frowns.
"I think you should see a doctor."
I start shaking my head but stop when the sides of my temple throb anew.
"You are clearly not okay."
He's suddenly in front of me, and I catch a whiff of his aftershave.
Mm, that smells like—-no, stop, Cat!
This is absolutely not the time to be distracted!
Not when—-oh!
His fingers have cupped my elbow, and a strong sense of déjà vu hits me. Wasn't I just doing this for Mr. Drunk earlier? But my world has turned upside-down in a blink, and now I'm the one who's a complete mess.
"I'll have one of the staff come in to help you change."
I automatically open my mouth to say I don't need to cause more trouble than I already have, but he easily cuts me off with a look.
"No arguments."
Aye, aye, captain.
Another strong sense of déjà vu strikes me, and I bite my lip hard to keep the words from tumbling past my lips.
Am I losing my mind?
Am I just overreacting to things?
Or maybe this is me still lacking oxygen in my brain after almost drowning?
I vaguely hear him speaking on the phone, and the bits and pieces I manage to catch from his fast-and-furious Italian tell me he's serious about getting a doctor to check on me.
Great, just great.
I hate having to cause anyone trouble, but the moment my gaze strays to him, I...I can't remember what I was so upset about, and all I can think of at this moment is how unfairly beautiful he still seems, even with his back turned to me.