บททั้งหมดของ The witch and her wolf series : บทที่ 181 - บทที่ 190

 *Luca* Suddenly Harold is standing in front me. With wide legs and arms crossed the man gives off a superior attitude. I tense my body, but do not make any notion to appear provoking. One thing is to play with the muscles, it is something else to start a direct confrontation. I do not want to fight with Harold in here and risk people getting hurt, however I am unsure whether the man in front of me has the same sense of responsibility.  "Good evening”. Harold’s gaze moves to Twigs, who instantly withdraws behind me.  "You are far away from London, huh ?"  "Tonight we are". I reply. “Yes, we heard about a good party up here. But you are not happy to let go off the money".

Chapter 12 *Luca* "So this is your place ?" I catch up with Harold in front of a farmhouse.  He had to assure Twigs that everything was in order before I left, despite the fact that I am actually not quite sure. It had helped, however, on the persuasion, as two ladies had tailed past us, and Twigs, like the Dario he is, sneaked after them.  “Yes, but unfortunately I am not as good at being a farmer as I thought. I have had to supplement with fishing, and then there is no one to look after the fields or the house”. Harold laughs. "I'll just find you a towel”. He shows me out on a small toilet in the hallway and disappears upstairs.  "Damn !

  *Luca* While we are crossing the courtyard the wind changes and the fog starts disapparating from my brain. Most of Michala's scent is out of my nose and when I reach for the handle I am clear enough to hesitate.  I turn to apologise and send her off, but she basically jumps me, throwing herself around my neck and we tumble into the hallway. In here there is no wind to blow away that scent and her intense aroma is pulsating right into my face. The Wolf goes crazy and I lose all control of myself.  Next I know we are in an ice cold room. Even I feel the difference in the temperature.  “I can’t do anything in this cold”. Michala pulls away from me, laughing softly.

 *Soleil* “I am on my way back”. Luca’s voice is uptight.  “Okay did you have a good trip ?” I ask softly.  “We have to talk”. He interrupts.  “I know and you are right. I haven’t been completely honest. I am so sorry. I will tell you everything when I see you”. The words are streaming out without breathing, as I am scared he will cut me off and dump me over the phone.  When I stop talking the only sound is the noise from Twig's car.  “Luca ?” 

  *Lefu* The clock has passed midnight when the plane lands in Turin. After another hour of driving through the soft hills of Piedmont and endless rows of vineyards the car drives up to the Fattoria di Matelli.  Although the name still refers to it as a farm, the property is now so large that it has to count as a wine castle. The main house itself is the classic square brick that is characteristic of the Italians' wineries. Over time, the yard has been given an elongated two-story east-facing extension in the same rustic brick, and a smaller wing with open glass sections is built on the western part of the main house.  I have not been here for centuries, but despite the additions, the place still has the same atmosphere as when I left Italy. Here is a cal