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“Thank you, angel,” Jacob said, grinning softly down at me with satisfaction lighting up his eyes. “That was incredible.” He kissed my forehead again. “I’m so proud of you, you know that?”
I returned his grin, internally trying to grab hold of the compliment instead of the need to tell him that I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to do that again.
Chapter 25
The next few days passed in bliss, and I couldn’t remember a time when I smiled so much. We didn’t leave the yacht, but spent the days traveling along the Amalfi coastline with Captain Louis pointing out cities and historical sites and giving us history lessons about the country.
I spent most of my time at the front of the boat, enjoying the breeze on my face and watching the yacht power through the sea, the gloom and loneliness of my cell long forgotten.
Jacob didn’t leave my side, sitting with me as we discussed a variety of topics, pausing every so often so that he could reapply sun lotion to my sun-kissed skin.
When evening fell, we dined on the sun deck, enjoying an array of Italian cuisine freshly cooked by the chef, who remained on the lower deck. Aside from Marco and Mattias, I rarely saw any of the other staff, and when I did, they didn’t look at me and scurried away.
After dinner, Jacob and I cuddled on the sofa, watching films on the enormous screen in the lounge. When we went to bed, he wouldn’t let me sleep until he’d made me come twice with his tongue. I’d given him another blow job where he hadn’t been rough, leaving me to believe that he’d gotten carried away the first time, much like he had on our wedding day.
I couldn’t help but fall for this version of Jacob. The kind, attentive, adoring version who showed me that all he wanted to do was take care of my every need and make me happy. When he was showering me with his affection, I allowed myself to forget about the things he’d done in the past, believing that now we were married, our lives would be different.
Better.
Waking on the fourth morning, it was to find the boat moored at a harbor. Jacob explained that he was taking me into a little village for a spot of sightseeing, and I was so excited that I couldn’t eat my breakfast.
Until Jacob told me that we wouldn’t be going anywhere until I’d eaten my bowl of fruit and yogurt.
The flash of annoyance at him treating me like a child wasn’t enough to ruin my mood, though, and as soon as breakfast was over and I’d showered and changed into a cute dress that Jacob had chosen, he held my hand and led me off the yacht.
We walked around the fishing village for the first few hours, stopping at a small market where the locals spoke in broken English and offered us samples of the fresh food they were preparing and cooking.
After, we hiked up a steep hill, Jacob steadying me every time my ankle twisted on the cobblestones, until we reached a beautiful church at the top. I could have spent the rest of the day sitting inside on the wooden pew, admiring the stained-glass windows and watching the rays of the sun shine through, causing the different colors to dance across the stone floor.
It was only when Jacob said he had a surprise for me that made me move my ass.
Once we were back in the village, Jacob guided me to a small side street, coming to a stop outside a shop called Galleria dei Sogni. I gaped at the oil paintings displayed in the window, my eyes roaming over the mix of colors and each brushstroke.
An amused chuckle reached my ears. “Do you want to just stare at these pictures, angel, or would you like to go inside?”
“We can go in?” I asked dumbly, my cheeks heating at my stupidity.
Mother had always hurried me along whenever I stopped outside a gallery, refusing my request whenever I’d asked to take a moment to look at the paintings.
Jacob’s features softened. “Of course, sweetheart. This gallery is one of the best in Italy for its fine art. We couldn’t come here without visiting.” He rang a bell, grinning at me, and as usual, my pulse spiked. “When I knew we would be coming to Italy for our honeymoon, I made an appointment for us.”
My heart swelled at his thoughtfulness, and I once again asked myself how I’d gotten so lucky to be Jacob’s wife.
The door was pulled open by a short, balding man with olive skin and a wrinkled face. “Signor, Signora,” he greeted us in a thick Italian accent. “Welcome to Galleria dei Sogni. I am Fazio Rossi. Please, come in.”
With affection glinting in his eyes, Jacob indicated for me to step inside first. My gaze whipped around, not knowing where to start. The gallery wasn’t huge, but on every wall, impressive art pieces hung, and I wanted to examine each one in intimate detail.
“I will give you time to browse, but please, if you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask,” Fazio said, giving a small bow of his head.
He hurried away behind a desk, busying himself with paperwork. Jacob pulled me into his arms, kissing my forehead. “Are you happy, angel?”
I grinned up at him, euphoria running through my veins. “So happy, Jacob. Thank you.” I reached up on tiptoes to place a kiss on his lips. “I don’t even know where to start.”
Jacob stroked a thumb over the cherry of my cheek. “Why don’t we start over here?”
I quickly learned that Jacob wasn’t as enthusiastic about art as I was. He hovered by my side, watching me as I spent a ridiculous amount of time staring at each picture, admiring every minute detail the artist had thought to add to their creation.
They were all beautiful, but one kept drawing my attention back to it. It was an oil painting of a beautiful woman, her brown hair pulled up into a messy knot on top of her head. She was sitting on a bridge over calming waters of a lake, a forest in the distance, and while most of her back could only be seen, she was looking over her shoulder, a forlorn expression on her face.
