Monza (Formula Men #1)(2)
From what I could gather, there was a team of people trying to pry my door open.
His troubling question made me want to respond to him, to simply ask him not to scream so loudly, but that thought immediately escaped me when I suddenly felt weak, thanks to the foul stench of petrol burning my lungs, making it quite impossible to breathe.
Perfetto…
Just as I had wished, I was going to die on the racetrack of Monza.
Amidst the stark darkness came a tiny slither of light. It reminded me of a darkened sky with one glimmering star to embellish the plain gloom of nightfall.
The seconds turned into minutes then hours. From there, I lost track of how long I kept staring at the small tincture of brightness.
I was still and unmoving from my spot. I wasn’t sure if I was sitting down, standing up, or simply lying somewhere. I hadn’t a clue. It was as if my body was nonexistent, and the only sense that was working was my sight, nothing more.
My eyes were glued to that one shimmering light, my mind a mass of confusion, enthrallment, and this odd feeling that I was awaiting my sentence. It felt like I couldn’t proceed until I was given permission. Like I said, it was rather peculiar, yet I knew that was what I must do.
And so I waited in the stillness surrounding me. There was no air, no sound at all, as if there was no life anywhere around me. It was deafening listening to nothing. It made me momentarily think of my ears popping due to pressure when I could only hear myself thinking and speaking, leaving the rest as a dulling nuisance in the background.
Serene calmness engulfed me. Relaxed and undaunted, I gradually shut my eyes, while another part of me thought it important to keep noting the string of light, wondering if it were to leave me in darkness soon. Regardless, the notion of keeping my concentration sharp completely left me as the temptation of shutting my lids conquered.
In that instant, I felt utterly complete, unlike any feeling I had experienced before. Contentment filled me. I felt one with my body, with my mind and every vital and lingering thought that ever crossed my mind. A mere second passed, a gasp of a short breath, before I caught a whiff of something…
…something memorable that tugged at me, immediately making my heart thud like crazy.
A familiar scent.
The moment it infiltrated my nostrils, running down my throat and into my lungs, it headed straight into my heart, digging itself in there.
The wafting fragrance was a mixture of fresh air, the intoxicating smell of orange blooms during summer time, fresh cut grass, and a faint, lingering smell of lavender. It was the scent that had haunted me for the last three months. The very smell that, even after all the time that had past, still made me tremble deep within.
Just like that, I was transported back to one of my beloved and most cherished places—my family’s orchard in Pavia.
Villa Allegra had been in my family since the 13th century. Through the years, it had been gradually upgraded to include amenities from the modern world. Despite the upgrades, the overall feel of a classical Roman-inspired country estate had remained with awe-inspiring, floor mosaics; heated, indoor bathing pools; and a Roman-inspired pool that was surrounded by pillared statues of the Roman gods Apollo, Jupiter, Juno, Venus, and the entire lot, which faced Southeast, where the sun rose.
One of my cherished memories happened in the open courtyard that sat in the heart of the villa, where two shallow, ankle-deep pools were situated side by side, next to the striking Venus fountain. It was where I had spent most of my coins, throwing them in, wishing away for whatever my heart desired. It was, without a doubt, a beautiful, stunning villa with rich splendor. It wasn’t its grandeur that made it remarkably special for me, though. No, it was a woman, an American expat named Kimberly Harris.
With much anticipation, agitation, and bated breath, she had come back to drown me with nostalgia, throwing me back into the blistering hotness of an Italian summer and the unparalleled love I had once felt for her…
Rome
Three months ago…
“Have you seen Jacques anywhere?” Andrès Franco threw me a questioning look along with his raised, aristocratic brow that most people found intimidating. Too bad I wasn’t one of them.
“After the same woman again tonight, I take it?” I made a dry laugh, wondering when those two would end their odd fixation with the same women. Be it a one-night-stand or a temporary lover, the French man and the Spanish duke seemed to share a rather special trait of taking an interest in the same things, women included. Though I had a lot in common with the men, thank goodness I didn’t share that particular trait with them.
“I don’t see why you find this highly amusing.” he retorted back, a little disgruntled that I wasn’t showing any bit of support when he was evidently not at all pleased by the situation.
“Listen, chap, the world is filled with beautiful, single women who come in all shapes and sizes; must you both fight at every party for the same bloody woman? You both need to cut this ‘may the best man win’ competition. We’re not in boarding school anymore.” Shaking my head, I nonchalantly shrugged at him.
He smirked, looking devious. “Are we giving lectures now, Luca? You’re one to talk. It’s not as if you’re a saint.”
I was far from one, and I shamelessly admitted that, wholeheartedly.
“Just be careful, yeah? I’m sure this is all fun and games at the moment, but there might come a time when things get serious. You don’t want to be caught in the middle of that, Andrès, especially when your family loathes scandal.”