Chapter 15
Daniella
Ecstatic.
The only way I can accurately describe how I’m feeling, as I toss and turn, trying my hardest to will myself asleep. I’ve been mentally scanning multiple checklists, ensuring I packed everything needed for the two-week trip toMilan.
Milan!The Fashion. The Food. TheTotality.
Antonio gave me the rest of the week off to shop and prepare for the trip. Admittedly, I’ve been running around Los Angeles like a mad woman, sorting things out. Not to mention, I spent two—painstaking hours—searching for my passport that I eventually found tucked away in one of mysuitcases.
It’s Saturday night now, and even though butterflies have swarmed my giddy-filled gut, I’m also kind of bummed I won’t get to see Emma and Stacy before I leave early tomorrowmorning.
Emma has called me at least forty-seven times today. She seems obviously more thrilled than I am, with a twisted notion that somehow Antonio and I will return from this trip as a ‘happier than ever’ couple. Stacy hasn’t helped either, as she, like a fucking parrot, keeps saying over and over how Antonio is fresh-out-of-the-bakeryhot.
That, of course, I cannotdeny.
Personally, I think the two of them watch way too many of those damn Hallmark movies. Sappy romance bullshit, if you askme.
I’m sticking to my pledge of swearing offmen.
Plus, the fact that Antonio revealed he is not at all married only led me back to the notion that he, like a snug glove, fits the bill of a lady lovin’ playboy. That is, at least according to my highly reputable source known as Google—honestly, all searches annoyingly point to images of him with a different woman every month. All that was solidified when he dropped me off at home the other day, after we looked at the designs from Milan. His phone showed an incoming call from someone namedNonna. A name like that is probably attached to a slinky lingerie model with big boobs and a flatass.
Yet, I suppose if I had his money and semi-fame, I’d probably live life to the fullest too, before ever settlingdown.
He’s actually growing on me—the way a bad haircut does. He’s much kinder than I expected, and I feel bad that he lost his mom, although I have yet to uncover the complete details as Google shows nothing related to that. I dare not ask; I dare notintrude.
I am a tad nervous about spending nearly two weeks with him whether it’s work-related or not. Luckily, it won’t be just the two of us for the entire trip. Liza, his receptionist, and Jonah will be coming to Milan as well, but not until several days later. Jonah apparently goes each year, and this year, Antonio rewarded Liza the trip for helping him out when his PA, Dottie,retired.
Looking at the digital clock that sits on my bedside table, I see it brightly displays it’s nearly midnight. Only four more hours until the alarm rings. I stuck my phone under my pillow so I’d be sure to hear the alarm when it goes off. It would be a tragedy if I slept through it. It’s not like that hasn’t happened to me before—too many times to count, actually. Like the timeI—
My phone just chimed. But no one in their right mind would text me this late. Not even a booty call, which incidentally, I have never experienced, so what do I know about bootycalls?
I stick my hand under the pillow and remove my phone, squinting as I try to read thescreen.
It’sAntonio.
I sit up in apanic.
What if the flight is cancelled? Or worse, what if he’s cancelled the entire trip for some oddreason?
I’m almost too afraid tolook.
Oh just look, damnit.
Antonio: Hey, are you awake? If not, no worries. I’ll just see you tomorrowmorning.
I cover my mouth, stifling mygiggle.
Me: And what if I weren’t awake, but am now because of yourtext?
A pause ceases themoment.
Antonio: Why are you always such a smartypants?
Me: Smarty pants? Are we back in gradeschool?
He replies with an emoji sticking out itstongue.
