Chapter Two
Rome was waiting for her outside of the restaurant, his face brightening as soon as he spotted her. His gaze traveled up and down her body as she walked toward him, causing one side of his mouth to quirk up. At that moment, she was grateful she managed to pack a little black cocktail dress in her suitcase. Every girl should own one, she figured. Hers was sexy with its lace trim, off-the-shoulder look, fitted on top and flaring out to her mid-thigh. Her three and a half-inch nude-colored strappy heels completed the look. Her bag however…
“You look stunning,” Rome said as soon as she reached him. And then he laughed and jutted his chin out toward her large floral print tote bag. “Is that your suitcase?”
“It’s my life in there,” she said with mirth. It pretty much was, with all the essentials, money, IDs, cell phone, laptop, and notebooks, and this time, she’d remembered to stick her compact umbrella in there as well.
“And you look quite dashing, yourself,” she told him. Gone were the t-shirt and jeans, and as fine as they were on him, he’d replaced them with a crisp, white button-down shirt, the top two buttons undone, and neatly pressed black slacks, adding some suave to his rugged. He also gifted her with one of his amazing smiles again, easily making her go weak in the knees.
The restaurant was full, but luckily there were two tables left, and one of them seated two. She remembered how awkward she had felt eating here alone the last time she had been in Verona. The lights were a little muted, with lit votive candles inside frosted glass, setting the perfect ambience for romance. The larger tables had been filled with families or groups of friends, talking, laughing, much like tonight, while she had been typing away on her laptop or writing notes, all in between delicious bites or sips of wine.
“Buonasera, allora cosa vi porto?” the waiter said when he came over to them to take their order. Good Evening, so what can I bring you? He placed fresh bread on their table and poured oil on a mini plate, which was set in front of each of them, chatting them up in the process. He seemed pleased that Sasha was able to speak fluently in Italian, and he complimented her on her accent. Rome spoke a little, ordering his meal in Italian as well, though the waiter joked good-naturedly that he had to work on his.
The sommelier came by shortly after, leaving the bottle of red wine on the table after he poured each of them a glass. When he left, she and Rome dug into the basket of bread. The smell alone made her mouth water, and the taste of the warm, soft center, dipped in oil, was pure heaven.
“So, what brings you to Italy, Sasha?” Rome asked. “Business or pleasure?”
“Well, I always love coming here, so it’s a little bit of both I guess. I’m a travel writer.”
Rome raised his eyebrows and nodded, seemingly impressed.“Cheers to the famous writer,” he said while raising his glass.
She clinked her glass with his and then took a sip. “Yep, that’s me, Sasha Palmer, famous travel writer extraordinaire.” Shit!
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
He must have read something was the matter on her face. “Nothing.” She waved a hand in the air dismissively.
It wasn’t nothing, though. She had given him a last name, leaving her taken aback by her slip-up. No matter, she thought. It wasn’t as if he would be able to trace her anyway. She freelanced, and the only address her employers ever had on file for her was a P.O. box she never used.She was being paranoid anyway. Even her father’s men never usually knew where she was, which peeved him greatly. And something in her gut was telling her she could trust this man. He did save her life after all.
Steering the conversation over to him, she asked, “So is it business or pleasure for you, Rome?”
“Definitely pleasure.” He smirked, making her cheeks flame in the process. “The pleasure of your company.” He took another sip of wine right after he gave her a devilish wink. “It was actually supposed to be business, but…” he waved a hand in her direction. “I got distracted, and now my business is concluded.”
She wanted to say sorry, but she wasn’t sorry at all. “Will you get in trouble?”
He shook his head. “It’s a family business, and nepotism definitely has its perks. Besides, I haven’t had a vacation in years. I’m definitely due for one.”
“You must be very good at your job to have a city named after you,” she joked.
Rome smiled, but Sasha noticed it didn’t reach his eyes. “What is it that you do?”
“My family manufactures suits,” he answered, his voice monotone. “I was just trying to get a leg up on some competition.” He continued without passion as he talked more about his family owned company. It sounded more like a well-rehearsed speech, and he seemed unhappy in his position.
“You don’t like it.” It wasn’t a question.
The waiter brought over their appetizers and set her tomato and goat cheese soup in front of her, and risotto with black truffle in front of him.
The silence stretched for a bit as they ate, until he finally answered, “No, Sasha. I don’t. Sometimes my job feels like it’s sucking the life out of me.”
“Why don’t you find something else to do then?”
He gave her a sad smile. “If only it were that easy.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t pry.” She also didn’t want to put a damper on the evening talking about a subject he was clearly uncomfortable with, so she changed the subject. “How long are you staying then?”
His playful smirk returned. “How long are you staying?”
“A few days.”
