VOLKO

Chapter Twenty-One

After having what can only be described as the best night sleep I'd had in a long time, I stood on the balcony overlooking the beautiful screen of the vineyards. The air smelt fresh, as it washed over me.

Even at seven in the morning the sun shined so brightly I couldn't stop the smile it brought to my lips.

Closing my eyes, leant my head towards the heat, embracing every minute of it. Don't get me wrong, I loved the rain and wind which come with the English weather.

Jumping when I heard the sound of faint footsteps behind me, only to see Dean walking out of a set of double doors I'd wondered what had led to since last night.

In usual Dean fashion he wore suit trousers and a shirt, even in the light morning heat the guy wouldn't put a pair of shorts on.

Not saying a word, he took the space next to me on the balcony. Mimicking my stans, Dean rested his forearms on the stone wall and looked out into the distances. For a few minutes we stood in comfortable silence, appreciating the view.

"Did you sleep well?2 Dean asked softly, like he didn't want to break the calmness surrounding us.

"Yeah I did. I like it here. And the people are nice."

Dean's mouth twitched up at the corner into a side half smile. With the light glowing around him I thought how beautiful he looked. Very angelic.

"The Romano family is one of the few decent ones left." I let Dean's words hang in the air, not really understanding them.

Again we fell into a relaxed silence, watching the gardeners below trim the trees and brushes.

"I didn't know you spoke Italian."

"I speak seven languages." Dean said as if everyone spoke seven languages.

I playfully bumped Dean with my elbow, he turned to me with a half smile, then proceeded to lean against the wall with his bum.

"You never told me that. Which ones?"

"I'll give you one, Russian." Amusement twinkled in his eyes.

Playful Dean was few and far between, however when he came out it seemed impossible for me not to laugh. He actually looked his age when he was enjoying himself.

"And two is English, three is Italian. So only four more to go." I chuckled. Dean grinned, and for a moment everything was perfect. No family drama, or bitchy Victoria.

"What?" I asked when Dean was still grinning at me.

"You look happy here. Much happier than you were in England. Is it just the sunshine and prospect of beaches?" Dean's eyes narrowed, waiting for me to answer.

I looked out back towards the view of the Italian countryside.

"You were right the other day. I've only ever been on Holiday with the Cotton's, and the whole time I felt like an imposter. They're one of those families that make friends wherever they go, and when I turned up there were always questions and looks. Most people pitied me. They'd never tell them the full story to try and protect me I guess but sometimes it just made it worse." Genuinely I answered. The memory of the trips I'd had with the Cotton were always positive, until now. After the conversation with Dean the other night, I remembered more of the uncomfortable moments. Perhaps because the Cotton's themselves would never pity me I blocked them out. "I probably sound really ungrateful. I had the Cottons whilst you had Dimitri for a brother."

"I can't remember ever living with anyone but the Duskin family. I was too young, and they always put me to work so I felt like I was earning my keep." The bitter edge in his tone, showed his hidden feeling about them. I wondered why I'd never noticed it before. Even Dean's body language became guarded. Did Robert know the way Dean felt about them?