Surrender Your Love (Surrender Your Love #1)(31)

I removed Jett’s shades and craned my neck to figure out where the path might be taking us. I thought for a moment, and then the penny dropped.

“This is Lucazzone’s estate, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Yep.”

For some reason, I expected it to be majestic with a cobblestone path, trimmed hedges, maybe even a glasshouse, and hunting grounds—and definitely lots of flowers. This looked more like the forested backyard of a haunted and neglected mansion. It wasn’t less beautiful, just not what I expected.

“What was your highest offer?” I asked Jett.

“Twenty million.” He didn’t even blink saying the number. I almost choked on my breath.

“US dollars?”

“Euro.”

“Oh.” That was big bucks for a bit of land and a few walls. I blinked rapidly as my brain began to do the math. Twenty million Euros divided by ten mansions equaled two million each. Given the skyrocketing lawyer costs and the paperwork involved, the labor costs to cut down the forest, prepare the building ground, and actually build the holiday homes, Mayfield Properties would have to invest another twenty million. So the actual asking price would have to be four million to break even, and even more to make a profit.

Blazing hell, who in their right mind would actually pay that?

The street widened as we reached a crossroad. Jett took another sharp right and parked the car a few feet from a sign written in Italian. I didn’t understand the words, but the red outstretched palm didn’t need much interpretation. This was private property and we weren’t supposed to be here.

I peered at Jett who opened the door and exited, then walked around the car to help me out.

“Thanks,” I whispered, grabbing his hand. The moment our fingers connected, an electric jolt ran through me. I gazed up into his moss-green eyes to catch his reaction but, like before, he didn’t seem to feel it. “What are we doing here? Do we have an appointment?” It was a stupid question. No one with an appointment would park the car on a country lane and sneak up on the owner.

“I want you to see this place so you feel its magic,” Jett said matter-of-factly.

“It’s called trespassing.”

“Lucazzone doesn’t mind.”

“How would you know that?” Crossing my arm over my chest, I stared at him. He flat out ignored the invitation to elaborate.

“Come on, Ms. Righteous. You’re not being paid for standing around and asking questions.” He winked and turned his back on me. What other choice did I have than to follow?

***

It was so hot I felt as though my clothes were about to melt—and it wasn’t just because of the heat. I let Jett guide me beyond the path, through the trees and the thick bushes. Even though Jett led the way, pushing thick branches out of the way so I could step through unscathed, for once I was happy to have opted for flats rather than my usual kitten heels. Not least because my gaze kept wandering to Jett’s back and the defined muscles rippling beneath his thin shirt. Beads of sweat gathered at the nape of his dark hair, making my mouth water at the thought of making him sweat on top of me. His slacks strained with every step, emphasizing the hard muscles in his thighs. I felt like a teenager in lust who couldn’t stop daydreaming about the hot football captain.

Eventually, we reached the highest point of the incline. Just beyond the trees and dense bushes stretched out a vast valley. Looking farther, I could make out the beautiful shoreline of a lake. The blue water caught the rays of the sun and shimmered in a million facets. Beyond it, on the other side of the lake, a Mediterranean-style house raised against the picturesque backdrop of a mountain, amidst yet more trees and bushes. In front of the house was what looked like a broad path leading to the lake’s shore. To reach it, anyone would have to cross the lake. I scanned the area, looking for any sign of a boat, but saw none.

“Is that the Lucazzone mansion?”

“Villa,” Jett corrected. “It’s not that big.”

“But where’s the street?”

“There is none. The Lucazzone family has always been keen on privacy, so they built the house on a secluded spot and never bothered to make it accessible,” Jett said.

The word ‘secluded’ didn’t even do it justice. How did these people go grocery shopping? Did they even have electricity or Internet?

“Do they grow their own crops?”

Jett’s lips twitched. “They might have a few centuries ago, but currently they have discovered the benefits of the local grocery store’s home delivery service. Do you see that large oak?” He pointed beyond the lake to a thick tree with low hanging branches. I nodded and squinted to get a better glimpse, but couldn’t make out more than contours in the blinding rays of the sun. “There’s a boat hidden from view. It’s been there for years, and once a month the old man would row the boat over the lake, meet with the waiting grocery store owner, stock up on supplies, and then return to the villa. As kids, my brother and I would be hiding up here, waiting for the old man in his black cape-like coat to appear. Usually it was in the semi-darkness of dawn. The way the boat broke through the morning mist clinging to the water surface made it look like a scene from a gothic vampire movie. For a while, my brother and I were convinced the old man was a vampire.”

His eyes focused on a point beyond the horizon, and I knew he wasn’t seeing the serene display of nature before our eyes, but the sweet memories of a childhood that would always live on in his mind and heart. I found myself smiling with him, seeing the past through his words, and for a moment I felt as though I was there with him, seeing the old man through the fanciful eyes of an innocent boy.