Chapter 19
Daniella
Despite a pesky caseof jet lag, waking up in Italy fills my soul with absolute jubilation. I was even too excited to order a room service breakfast toeat.
Antonio texted me about an hour ago, reminding me that we have an appointment at the factory. Sometimes I feel our roles are reversed; shouldn’tIbe the one keeping tabs on appointments? However, in my defense, he hasn’t quite shared the complete itinerary of this business trip. All I know is today we are to have a meeting at his uncle’s factory where all of theCraveMepieces are made, and then a short tour of Milan tomorrow or the next day. Beyond that I have no clue. And he did ask me to pack a small overnight bag with a change of clothes just in case he’s too tired to make the drive back to Milan thisevening.
It’s cold outside, and I’m glad I was able to shop for this trip. Living in California does nothing to prepare residents forrealwinters.
So today’sensemble:
Designer Jeans. Black Boots. A Long-SleeveBlouse.
Hair Down—parted in the middle—Long and Straight. WoolCoat.
A quick tap at the door startles me at first, but I know it’s Antonio beckoning. He’s only in the suite across the hall, afterall.
I grab my purse and unlock the door, opening it tohis—
I fucking swear, is there no end to how hot this man canlook?
“Buongiorno, sunshine. Did you sleepwell?”
I’m unable to answer just yet, still thrown off-kilter by Antonio SuperHottie.
A Black Medium-Length Trench Coat. Black Dress Slacks. Black Oxfords. Muscle-Hugging DressShirt.
And…hair done up in anI Woke Up Like Thisstyle.
Oh. My.God.
I bite my lower lip and want to kick myself for suddenly becoming amute.
For the love of Pop-Tarts, get a hold of yourself,woman.
So I settle for a half-smile and what turns out to be an embellishednod.
“Great. Did you eat? If not, we can grab breakfast. They have good pastries and wonderfulespresso.”
“Breakfast sounds good, thanks.” I let the door slam closed behind me, and the two of us stand in the hall, gazes fixed, until he motions for me tofollow.
As we enter the restaurant, located in the lobby of the hotel, Antonio is greeted immediately by ahost.
“Signor Michaels, è un piacererivederla.”
“Grazie, Matteo, anche perme.”
The host looks at me and nods courteously. “Buongiorno,Signorina.”
I smile and nod in return, hoping to God, he didn’t ask me a question expecting me to provide a detailedanswer.
I’ve so gotta pick up an English to Italiandictionary.
“She speaks English, Matteo.” Antonio smiles, placing his arm around me, sensing my discomfort, Isuppose.
“Of course, Signore. Would you two like atable?”
“Yes, please. My usualspot.”
