Roman Crazy
Page 87

The firm had arranged for a private dining experience outside the Pantheon. They’d consulted there a few years ago and held a favor that they were cashing in tonight.
We had a plan. After he got settled, I’d join him for a long weekend whenever I could. He’d come to Rome whenever he could. We would make this work.
“Avery, it’s here!” Daisy called out from the living room.
Marcello, as the guest of honor, was going to be late. Since it was about him, I didn’t feel right walking in on his arm, so Daisy and I were heading over together.
What I didn’t like was that I hadn’t seen him all day. He’d begged off meeting for lunch because he had to go into the office for last-minute work. With the sand slipping through that damn hourglass, I wanted to get in as much time with him as possible.
“You’re going to stop traffic in that outfit, honey,” Daisy said as I walked out of the bedroom. She was probably sensing that I needed the extra oomph. “The lipstick? Killer with a capital K. You’re getting some great good-bye sex.”
I smiled and checked my hair in the hall mirror. Corkscrew curls shooting out wherever they felt like it, which Marcello loved. My makeup was light, but my lips were painted red.
“I’m counting on it,” I said, grabbing a bloodred shawl from the couch, along with my clutch.
After we arrived, we snacked on some delectable appetizers, marveling at how they had transformed the stone courtyard of the Pantheon into a stunning party venue.
Ten gorgeous wooden farm tables were laid out around the fountain, benches tucked up beneath them. Above were sheer linen umbrellas spaced out just enough that they didn’t block the navy-blue, star-speckled sky.
But the real gem was the Pantheon. You could see the majestic building from every angle and every table. Guests milled about talking to their coworkers—about children and what projects they were working on now—but their eyes always flitted back to the statuesque columns or the sweeping open doors, where you could see the moonlight from the oculus shining on the floor.
Then Marcello arrived, looking unstoppably fuckable. He wore the hell out of his well-tailored khaki pants and white oxford shirt. With his sleeves rolled to the elbow, he was perfect for the late Italian summer weather.
He shook hands and kissed where he had to, but his eyes never left mine. He’d move on to another person to speak with, and glance my way and wink. We circled each other in a cat-and-mouse game that nobody knew about but us.
Except for Daisy, who was bursting with excitement. “With all the sparks flying between you two and all of the flammable liquid, this part of town is going up in flames tonight. Tone it down!” Daisy teased, before making her way up to the head table.
She’d be introducing Marcello, who’d been fretting all week about what to say, saying good-bye to everyone he worked with.
For now, I reminded myself. Saying good-bye for now.
He whispered something to Daisy, and her face lit up in a broad smile. She searched the small crowd for me, then picked up a knife and clinked on her glass to get everyone’s attention.
I moved to take an empty seat toward the back, in case I broke out into hysterical sobs and needed to make a quick escape to the ladies’ room in one of the nearby restaurants.
“Buona sera, everyone,” Daisy started. “I’d like to thank you all for coming here tonight to say arrivederci to Marcello.”
I tuned her out, staring at the man she was praising. I loved hearing that he was universally respected by his peers, but I loved watching him more. He laughed at her little jokes, and feigned hurt when she hit below the belt.
But something was amiss. Though he was smiling at all the right places and laughing where needed, his eyes were on me. He hadn’t taken them off me for more than a few seconds at a time all night, but now I felt like he was trying to convey something.
When it was his turn to speak, he simply thanked everyone for coming before introducing his second in command, Federico. Who would explain everything . . . wait, what?
The confused audience started slowly clapping and whispering as Marcello stalked through the tables until he stopped at mine.
“What’s going on?” I said, scooting over so he could sit beside me on the bench.
“Weren’t you listening?” he asked, brushing a wayward curl from my forehead. “Tesoro, tell me you heard that.”
I smiled awkwardly and shrugged. “It was hard to pay attention when you look so damn good. You need to get dressed up more often; it’s killing me.”
He laughed, loud enough that Federico stopped talking to shake his head, saying, “And now we know why he’s staying.”
Dozens of heads turned toward us, smiling and tilting to show they were happy. But why?
“Oh my God—did he say you’re staying?” I blurted loudly, then slapped my hand over my mouth.
He gently pulled my hand away. “Please do not smudge those lips. Not until later. And yes, I am staying. We are staying here.”
This time when the tears threatened to fall, I let them; elated tears could ruin my makeup with abandon.
“How? Why? What happened?” I pulled him into a hug so tight that I pulled him off the seat and practically into my lap.
“Tesoro, easy.” He gasped, pulling my arms from around his neck. “You happened.”
“But we had a plan. You were going to go and—”
“I talked to my boss today, and I told him that now is just not a good time to go. Incredible opportunity of course, and I thank him for this, but that I could not leave Italy at the moment. I’m settled here, and we need you settled here. We’ve got plenty of time for an adventure later on.”