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side, facing the stunning view of the sunset.
    I can’t help but stare at him, bewildered by the beauty of his well-defined features, his eyes so vibrant they penetrate right through you, and his seductive English accent that throws my equilibrium off balance.
    “Thank you again for the flowers; they’re exquisite.”
    “You’re welcome,” he murmurs. He reaches over and takes me by the hand, brushing his fingers over my knuckles. I’m enveloped by a warm, invigorating sensation, leaving me spellbound and my stomach to bubble over. I’m moved by his tender touch, yet it scares me, and I pull away.
    I pour us each a glass of 2010 Terra Di Lavoro and I lift my wineglass to his. “To a beautiful evening,” I toast.
    “To us,” he says, and our glasses clink.
    I swallow the smooth, soothing liquid. I’m caught off guard by a tingling sensation throughout my body, along with a surge of wooziness. Surely, the drink hasn’t hit me that fast. There is only one explanation for this unusual effect, and he’s sitting right beside me.
    “This wine has a rich, smooth taste to it. It’s opulent,” Michael compliments.
    “Thank you, it’s produced on this tiny vineyard on the slopes of the Roccamonfina volcano in Italy. It’s from my late grandfather’s collection,” I explain.
    “Excellent choice,” Michael praises and lifts his glass to savor another taste of the rich wine.
    “Thank you.” I take another small sip, letting the wine swoosh around in my mouth and swallow it.
    “Stunning view.” Michael says.
    “Yes, I agree. Peaceful, like being on vacation.” I drink the remainder of wine and place the glass down.
    “The perfect hideaway to escape from a long stressful day. That’s if you ever have one,” he expresses with a smile that will melt down steel.
    “Believe it or not, my work is stressful. There is a lot of stress with filming. Several times we’ve encountered electrical issues, battery runs down on the cameras; the manager is not on time when we need her or him to take us for the first round of the hotel. The list goes on. The weather plays a big part. One hotel we went to go film we were caught in a hurricane.”
    “That couldn’t have been any fun,” Michael comments shaking his head.
    “No, not at all. Especially since it set us back three days,” I laugh, and suddenly I feel tired and drowsy. Maybe some cool air will shake this awkwardness. “Come, let’s go out onto the terrace, so you can see the park.”
    “I would like that.” Michael stands, extending his hand out for mine. I grasp it, and my insides explode from the energy penetrating through my skin. I stand up, and he follows. We walk towards the French doors that lead to the terrace. A sudden uneasiness settles over me. My heart is stuttering, my skin turning cold and clammy. I take a few more steps, unbalanced and weak. Everything begins to blur and spin, and I’m beginning to see double, triple. Before I get a chance to grab onto something, my knees buckle.
    ***
    “Ariana . . . . Ariana.”
    “Hmm?” I murmur.
    “Ariana . . . . Wake up sweetheart.”
    I feel a nudge, like someone is trying to get my attention. My eyes open and Michael is sitting beside me. I gasp, alarmed to find myself lying on the sofa, “What happened?” I ask, all disoriented.
    “You fainted, Ariana,” he explains, with a wary expression in his eyes. “How do you feel?”
    “A little distraught.” I glance at the time. “Oh, Michael, we need to leave if we want to make it to the opera.” I sit up and sway from the dizziness. I take hold of my head, wondering when the spinning is going to end.
    I’m startled by Michael’s firm hold on my shoulders. “We’re not going anywhere. You need to lay back down. You don’t look so well,” he says with a stern tone, his eyebrows drawn together.
    “Michael, don’t be silly. I’m okay. I would hate to waste the tickets. I’m sure you paid an exorbitant amount for them.”
    “I don’t