By the time they landed at Naples airport Annie was completely lost.
She didn’t speak a word of Italian, and her head was completely muddled by the fast-moving crowds and general hubbub, but thanks to the English exit signs she was able to find her way to the baggage claim and out of Arrivals.
“You want a taxi?” a lightly accented voice called out.
“Yes. I need to get to a place called Villa Dolce Vita.” She read out the address written on a piece of paper. “Do you know it?” she asked hopefully.
“Positano?” the man repeated. “But of course. It is a long journey, though.”
Annie smiled as she said words she’d never before had the privilege of uttering: “I can pay.”
The driver was dangerously fearless, she was sure of it. She’d never seen anyone weave in and out of traffic at such a pace, and for most of the drive—as he wound along roads that were so narrow and high she was certain they would drop off the side and go hurtling to the ground on every turn—her heart was in her mouth.
She was relieved and elated when they finally arrived at the villa and she could see the back of him. Though he was nice, in fairness. He had great English and didn’t seem to bat an eyelid at her nonexistent Italian.
She supposed they were well used to tourists in these parts and it made her feel immediately at ease. Until they’d hit the road, that was.
The accommodation Felicity had chosen was surprisingly underwhelming. Granted, many of the houses around here looked fairly ancient and crumbling, but huddled closely on top of one another—as if fighting for space all the way down the mountain to the bejeweled sea—they looked like a pile of colorful kids’ blocks with their pastel colors and terra-cotta roofs. The effect was startling.
The house looked to be situated just on the edge of a big town, and Annie could see lots of blue-and-white beach brollies and sun loungers laid out on the beach a little further along the coast, beneath all the houses and buildings, which was where the main action must be.
Annie supposed the crumbling buildings thing was the kind of old-world Italian charm that tourists seemed to love.
For her part, she couldn’t wait to hit the beach and then visit some of the local watering holes—though from her vantage point, as she stood beneath the shade of a lemon tree and stared down at the water below, it was going to be one hell of a climb down to get there.
When she went into the house, dragging her suitcase behind her, a smiling woman introduced herself as Valentina. Annie immediately wondered if this was the good friend and villa owner Felicity had mentioned, but in broken English the woman told her that no, she was just there to do some cleaning and the occasional meet and greet.
While outside looked gorgeous with all the flowers and the trees and the amazing view, inside the place was a bit of a dive, to be honest—very old, though in fairness spotlessly clean, thanks to Valentina, Annie guessed.
And when the Italian woman led her to a dark, poky bedroom upstairs that was about a quarter of the size of her flat back home, she was a bit disappointed.
She’d had visions of cocktails out on the balcony over that lovely sea view, but at least it was nice and cool in there, and so small she knew she wouldn’t have to share her room with anyone, which was a major plus.
There were a few other people already staying there; a German couple on their way out had greeted her politely on arrival, and Valentina introduced her to a small group of French backpackers eating lunch in the kitchen area, where there were so many mismatched tiles and creaky-looking pieces of furniture that Annie had to laugh.
Again, the language barrier was a slight problem but she got the sense that everyone pretty much did their own thing in places like this. The students did give her a helpful heads-up on a couple of hotspots in the town, though, which she planned on checking out later.
She wasn’t going to waste too much time on pleasantries or making friends. Not when the sun was still high in the sky and the little pool outside looked so inviting.
Thanking Valentina for her impromptu tour, she trudged her suitcase up an ancient wooden staircase to the room.
Unpacking wouldn’t take long; the only thing she needed just now was her swimsuit and she’d put that in her carry-on luggage, just in case. She’d heard enough stories about lost luggage and she wasn’t about to find herself in a foreign country with nothing.
The water in the pool was cool but a welcome relief from the afternoon heat, as she dived straight in and swam from one end to the other. It wasn’t much of a length, just a small rectangle on the edge of the terrace overlooking the bay, but boy was it bliss.
She lingered by the edge now, looking through the chipped wrought iron railings dripping with pretty pink flowers, out over the side to the colorful buildings tumbling down from the green of the mountains to the water below.
“OK, I could get used to this,” Annie mused happily as she ducked back under the water and swam across to the other side.
By evening she was ravenous, and finding some bits and pieces in the fridge, courtesy of the French students, who’d told her to help herself (or at least she hoped that’s what they meant) since they were leaving the next day, Annie cobbled together a light meal of pasta and tomato sauce with crusty bread.
After that, she got ready to head out on the town, choosing a strapless black dress that showed off her freshly spray-tanned skin, though she had a nice little sun-kissed glow from the pool earlier, which made it look really natural.
She opted not to bother straightening her hair for a change; in this heat it was probably a waste of time and would end up frizzing anyway, so instead she just tied it up in a loose bun and let a few black tendrils frame her face.
Same for makeup, which would also surely melt off in the humidity, so she kept it basic, with just a smear of bright red lipstick to finish the look.
There. Annie admired herself in the mirror. The dress lifted her boobs and really made the most of her curves, and putting on a pair of silver sandals, she felt pretty confident that she could hold her own with any Italian glamour-puss.
She wasn’t sure how those heels would hold up for the long walk back up the hill, but first things first. She couldn’t wait to find out what the social life in this place was like. It was a popular holiday resort so she guessed it would be hopping.
Annie wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she walked into Music on the Rocks—the late-night bar actually cut into a cave the students had told her about—but what greeted her was a scene like so many she’d encountered back home.
A room full of people, pulsing music, a neon bar and crowds of happy revelers. Her dress clung to her body in all the right places as she shimmied her way around the dance floor toward the bar, the short hem brushing sexily along her thighs to the beat.
She saw him the moment she reached the bar.
Tall with mussed-up dark blond hair and green eyes, the color of the sea. His cheeky smile was like sunshine the moment their eyes met.
Annie tried to pretend she hadn’t noticed him, but the moment her eyes drifted in his direction, there was the ocean looking straight back at her.
His eyes were like deep pools that she wanted to dive right into. He didn’t look Italian and seemed to be with a large group of lads, so she wondered if he was a tourist, too.
“Nope,” she scolded herself, turning away with a bottle of water for the dance floor. “Not going there.”
She’d decided not to drink tonight; not to drink too much while here at all, really. She didn’t want to end up doing the same in Italy as she’d been doing back home, getting trashed and ending up with strangers.
She was on her own in an unfamiliar country after all, so she needed to keep her wits about her.
Annie loved to dance. It was an urge that started at her hips and took over her entire body. She couldn’t help it. It was the most liberating thing you could do, at least in her mind, and it was something she indulged in whenever she could.
One moment she was on her own, giving it socks on the dance floor, and the next she could feel a presence behind her. Annie turned to find the guy from the bar, his body dangerously close to her own.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked in perfect English.
She turned to him with a grin. “Ah, you are a tourist.”
“I wasn’t sure if you were,” he admitted with a small chuckle. “I’m glad because I’m absolute crap at Italian. I was just taking a chance.”
He was verrrry cute.
“Glad you did,” Annie replied flirtatiously as she turned her back to him and continued to dance. His hands reached her hips then as he joined in and Annie found herself having to repress the urge to lean into him.
Take your time, girl. Take your time.
The music played on and they continued to dance, chatting intermittently as they did. He was a Brit and he and his mates had just arrived the day before. This was also his first night out on the town.
Annie felt a slight thrill when she told him she was traveling alone and not on some girlie holiday; it made her feel sophisticated and mysterious—someone who did her own thing and controlled her own destiny.
Which of course she was now, thanks to Felicity Finch.
She wasn’t particularly interested in pointless chitchat, though, not when there was dancing to be had instead.
A song she really loved came on, and she twirled in his arms, losing herself in the thrill and romance of the electrifying music and being in a foreign country, dancing with a handsome stranger.
“What’s your name?” he asked eventually.
“Annie,” she shouted above the music, as one of his friends appeared alongside him.
“Harry, we’re moving on, mate. You coming?”
She smiled. Harry suited him. And now that she thought of it, he even looked a little bit like his princely namesake in England.
He looked at her, seemingly torn, but Annie just waggled her fingers and wandered away. “See you again, maybe.”
She was pretty certain she would.