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childhood. I describe my father’s work as a carpenter and my mother’s as a secretary before she gave it up, and when my wine is refilled, I start feeling comfortable enough to open up to him about the breast cancer my mother has been battling for years.
    “It was hard for me to leave her and go away to college. I felt guilty, but she wouldn’t allow me to make that sacrifice for her. She knew how hard it was for us, living on one income, trying to pay her medical bills, and she didn’t want me to give up my dreams for her. My parents have been sacrificing for me my whole life. My mother says my happiness makes it all worth it.” I feel the same sting of conflicting emotions that I’d struggled with when I made the decision to go to school so far away and to take this trip to Italy after graduation. “It was hard for me to go, but it makes her so happy to see me doing things she dreamed of—” My voice catches in my throat.
    “You did the right thing, Carina. And it was right for your mother to encourage you. It may not feel like it now, but you’ll see one day. I don’t mean to sound condescending—”
    “No, you don’t sound that way at all.” He’s making an effort to soothe my pain. In the haze of the wine, I speak from my heart. “I don’t know what it is, but I just feel so good when I’m with you.”
    He reaches across the table and takes my hand.
    I shiver from the touch.
    “I feel good around you, too.”
    We’re served classic tiramisu for dessert, and although I’ve tasted this dish many times, when Stefan asks, I have to admit it’s better than I could make myself. The sweet, light creaminess dissolves on my tongue.
    “Your chef is very talented.”
    “Yes. Fabrizio has been on my staff for a long time. I’ll be sure to introduce you to him tomorrow.”
    After the plates are cleared away, a wave of exhaustion rolls over me, and a yawn escapes.
    “You’re tired. You’ve had quite a day. Let me show you to your room.”He holds my hand again and leads me up a grand staircase. He opens the door to a beautiful room containing a pale gold, queen-sized bed with a wrought iron headboard, and a private bath.
    My suitcase is waiting, resting against an antique armoire.
    “Bianca’s room is adjacent to yours, so, if you need anything at all, feel free to disturb her.”
    I nod. The bed looks so comfortable and inviting, and I cannot wait to crawl beneath the sheets.
    He watches me surveying the room with his hands clasped behind his back.
    “Thank you for everything, Stefan.” I’m not quite sure how to say goodnight to him.
    He makes this decision for me when he moves closer and takes my hands in his, bringing them to his lips and leaving a seductive, yet sweet, kiss on the knuckles of each hand. “Good night.”
    At first, I sleep undisturbed, but during the night, I hear foreign sounds—a conversation through the wall and then what sounds like moaning. I’m too wrapped in sleep to make sense of it, and I can’t discern if the cries of pleasure I hear are real or exist only in my dreams of Stefan.
    I wake soaked in sweat.

Chapter Three

    Disoriented, I open my eyes expecting to find my dorm room before I remember how far I am from that place. I should be waking in a hotel room, but I’m not, and I smile at the vision of Stefan in my mind’s eye.
    The sun shines through the window of my guest room on the estate at Savano Vineyard, and I remember that, in the span of twenty-four hours, I’ve kissed a man I barely know.
    Twice .
    Although I’m surprised by my own behavior, and I’m certain it’s the romance of Italy prompting me to act this way, it’s thrilling to be with such a desirable man.
    Threads of dreamy memories weave together in my head, and I remember the noises I heard—or think I heard—last night. I dismiss what I’m sure were my own fervid fantasies, but I can’t shake the feeling that the man’s voice I heard was different from Stefan’s.
    I throw off the