“I’ve heard they have beautiful vineyards over there. Have you ever been? They’re not too far from here, right?”
“No, but I want to travel.” I think about all the plans I’ve dreamed about over the years.
“Where to?” he asks, taking a bite of his sandwich and washing it down with a sip of wine.
“Everywhere. I would start in California, visit the vineyards and then maybe work my way across the US, hitting up every photographic place, or I would go big and fly overseas, travel the world. My dream is to start a blog. Travel from place to place, taking pictures and writing about what I’ve seen.”
A grin spreads across Liam’s face. “That sounds like the perfect way to live.”
I nod in agreement.
“What made you want to do that?”
“When I was in college, I took a journalism class—”
“You attended college?” he asks, cutting me off, his voice filled with curiosity.
“Yes, I graduated last year with a degree in journalism.”
“That’s awesome. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“Sorry, so you took a journalism class and…”
“The professor had us take pictures and then write about them. What did we see? How did they make us feel? Before we could show others what we saw, she had us share the images, so everyone else could write what they saw. It was so eye-opening to see how one image could ignite so many different opinions and emotions.”
“Where have you traveled so far?” he asks, leaning in closer to me. We’re sitting in a double lounger and my legs are wrapped up in his own. The hand he’s not eating with is massaging circles along my thigh. Even though he had clothes brought in for me, I chose to go with only his shirt and a pair of panties he bought.
“Nowhere.”
“Nowhere?” he parrots, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Why not? You’re a young, single woman. You could go anywhere, see anything.”
He’s right. I could. But… “I’m scared,” I admit for the first time out loud. When my friend Aria moved to Italy and then Giovanni shortly followed after, we stayed in touch. She’s invited me to visit numerous times over the years, but I’ve never gotten the courage to go.
“Why?”
“The bordello is all I’ve ever known. It saved me when I was younger, and I guess it’s where I feel safe.” I shrug, hating that I probably sound stupid. I dip my face and take a sip of my wine, but Liam isn’t having it, because he presses his thumb and forefinger against my chin and lifts my face, so I’m forced to look at him.
“You can’t live in fear.”
“I know…” But it’s easier said than done. “One day I will.” The fact is, because I’ve lived at the bordello for the last five years, and they pay for everything, I have a good amount of money in the bank. I could take off and travel the world for quite a few years before I would have to worry about money. But it would mean leaving the place I feel safe, and I don’t know if I could do it on my own.
Liam pulls his phone out of his sweatpants pocket and types on it. “A nine-hour drive,” he says a few seconds later. “Less than an hour by plane.”
“Huh?”
“To Napa Valley.” He types some more. “Let’s go. We can be there in a couple hours. We can visit…” He glances at the label. “Napa Hills Estates.”
“What?” Is he serious right now? “Are you crazy? We would have to book flights and a hotel… And what about you needing to stay under the radar?”
He types some more and then grins. “The pilot said we’re good to go.” He pats my leg, gesturing for me to get up, so I do. “Get dressed and then we’ll head out.”
“Liam,” I croak out, in shock. “We can’t just—”
He cuts me off. “We can and we are. We’ll stop at the store on the way and I’ll have Harold run in and buy you a camera.” He says all of this nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just suggest we hop on a plane and fly over to California.
“You’re only here for a couple days,” I remind him.
“And we’ll be back tonight,” he volleys.
“I don’t think—”
“Don’t think. Just do. We only have a couple days together and I want to be there when you visit your first place. You can take pictures and make your first blog post.”
My heart beats erratically. There must be a million reasons why I should tell him this isn’t a good idea, but at the moment, I can’t think of a single one. As a matter of fact, the only thing I can think of is how much I want to visit Napa Valley with Liam by my side. He’s the first guy I’ve been with of my own volition, the first guy I’ve connected with, and I would love nothing more than to make this crazy memory with him, so years from now when I’m looking back, I can remember our time together.
“Okay,” I tell him. “Let’s do this.”
A couple hours later, courtesy of Liam’s private plane, pilot, rental SUV, and Harold, we’re driving past acres and acres of vineyards—just us. I texted Nico and told him where we’re going and that I don’t need the guard anymore. I trust Liam. Nico texted back, telling me he isn’t thrilled about it, but he’ll respect my wishes, and if I need anything, to call him. I’m using the camera Harold bought on the way to the airport and Liam charged on the plane to take picture after picture of the beautiful scenery.
When I see the sign for Napa Hills Estates, I snap one more photo, then turn the camera off. “This place is beautiful,” I murmur, trying to look to the left and right at the same time—not wanting to miss anything.
Liam chuckles. “You’re going to give yourself whiplash. Whatever you miss, we can see later. We have all afternoon.”
We pull up to the front of the estate, but Harold doesn’t stop, instead continuing around back. “Do you think we’ll be able to look around?” I ask.
“Of course.” He laughs. “Do you think we just came here to stare out the window?”
I playfully slap his arm. “I don’t know! It’s all so unexpected. I know you have to stay low…”
“I handled it,” he says with a wink that has my insides turning into mush.
The SUV comes to a stop and Harold opens the door for me. I slide out and thank him, then meet Liam around the front.
An impeccably dressed woman with a big smile on her face comes bustling out. “Mr. and Mrs. Smith, it’s so nice to meet you. My name is Patricia, the person you spoke with on the phone.”
She shakes each of our hands, and I glance at Liam, confused. Who the hell are the Smiths?
Liam leans over and whispers, “You know, the Smiths, like in the movie.” I laugh. It was the movie we watched on the plane ride over, although there wasn’t much watching, since we couldn’t keep our hands and mouths to ourselves.
“Thank you for accommodating us on such short notice,” Liam tells her, quickly shaking her hand and then wrapping his arm around my waist. “My wife loved your 2018 Sauvignon Blanc, and when she suggested we buy a case, I figured what better way than to fly over and visit the estate ourselves.”