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She turns back around, but the shake of her head and snort is unmistakable.
“You rolling your eyes too?” I lean forward and whisper in her ear.
“What?” She bats me away. “Stop that! You’re too close, Rich. Get back.”
“Ooh, we’re onto surnames. You flirting with me, Harper?”
She raises her hand over her shoulder and flicks me her middle finger without looking back.
I laugh as we turn another corner and are at the bottom of a narrow spiral stone staircase with an old rope fixed to the wall as a makeshift handrail.
“Need a leg up?” I say as she pauses at the base of it, trying to peer around the older couple in front of us waiting on the steps.
“Logan, cut it out,” she snaps. Then she raises her voice and jabs me in the chest with her finger as she says, in pronounced Italian, “Hai un cazzo squisito, princepe del piacere!”
The entire cramped hallway falls silent.
Maddy blinks.
Then one of the female students behind me coughs out a strangled giggle before her friends join her and erupt into laughter. One pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of me and Maddy.
Maddy’s cheeks burn scarlet as she looks around at all the eyes on us. The group of students start chatting excitedly in Italian between giggles.
“Ooh, Prince.”
“Looks rather royal to me.”
“I’d do him.”
“Ew, Rosa! You always go for the ancient ones.”
“Yeah, he’s older than this building!”
“Ancient? I’m thirty fucking three.” I turn to face them, and they all stop talking and stare at me. One gives me a flirty smile, her eyes dropping to my suit pants. I’m guessing that’s Rosa.
“Logan?” Maddy tugs on my sleeve.
I turn back around and open my mouth.
“Ooh, he speaks Italian.”
“Even sexier.”
“Yeah, I’d do him too.”
“Shh, that’s his girlfriend he’s with.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I say over my shoulder, but realize I’ve said it in English.
“Hell no!” Maddy peers around me at the group of girls as one pinches my ass, and I jump forward.
More giggles.
The entire corridor is watching the exchange with more interest than they have given the sights on the tour.
The older woman from the couple ahead of us turns to Maddy with a chuckle. “Maybe he should be.” She gives me a once-over appreciatively. “He sounds like my husband.” She smiles at the man she’s with, then whispers to Maddy, “You’re a lucky girl.”
“Um… I’m not sure lucky is the word I have in mind,” Maddy replies politely, her accusing eyes holding mine.
