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Gosh. Her English was very good. Just as well, really, as ‘prosecco’, ‘Prada’ and ‘Armani’ pretty much covered the extent of my Italian vocabulary.
‘Sophia, we start with you? Let me take you up to show you the rooms,’ said Erica. Oh, how I wished it was Lorenzo who was suggesting that to me…
As I lifted the handle of my suitcase to wheel it along, I wondered if Katherine’s assistant had passed on my request to be given the best room. I knew it was bad of me, but I couldn’t resist calling ahead a few days ago to ask if, given my fussiness and penchant for all things five-star, they could do that for me. Katherine had been ‘unavailable’ (probably exhausted by my constant questions), so her assistant, Alison, reassured me that it would be taken care of.
To be honest, though, as I walked through the hallway and up the wooden staircase, I could see that I had worried needlessly. This place was amazing.
‘So, as you are first upstairs, you get first choice of the rooms,’ said Erica.
I did a mini mental fist pump as I strolled down the corridor, peering in each of the three bedrooms. Katherine was right. All of them were equally beautiful.
The room at the end of the hall had a bath as well as a shower, green décor and a view of the outdoor pool, which had been covered over until it warmed up for summer. The next one along had a shower room, its own mini corridor and blue décor. Then the room nearest the staircase had a lovely shower room, wonderful views and a yellow theme.This is the one. To me, yellow equals sunshine and happiness. I’d found my little sanctuary.
‘I’d love this one, please, Erica,’ I said, positioning my suitcase in front of the pine wardrobe. ‘Thank you.’
‘Prego,’ she replied, smiling.
I’m guessing that meansyou’re welcome?
Erica headed back downstairs to show the others to their rooms. I overheard Francesca and Daniel looking around next door, which meant Grace must have opted for the fourth bedroom downstairs.
After I’d WhatsApped everyone to let them know I’d arrived safely, it was time to go back down. Thank goodness it was a Saturday. It meant that at least I wouldn’t have to worry so much about checking emails. I was determined not to even glance at my inbox until Monday lunchtime.Okay, let’s not run before we can walk. Let’s say 11 a.m. on Monday, which would be 10 a.m. UK time. Perfectly acceptable.
Grace was already seated at the dining table with Erica when I arrived. Francesca and Daniel swiftly followed, as did Lorenzo, who put one final platter on the table and sat down next to me.
Snooker, darts, golf. Snooker, darts, golf…
Half of my mind was doing the running man overwhelmed with joy, whereas the other half was thinking, Shit. I am not going to be able to concentrate, never mind steer a fork of food in my mouth with him sitting next to me. Just look at those solid thighs. I slyly scanned his body whilst he was chatting to Grace, who was seated to his right.Ooh, I would love to get my hands on those.
Snooker, darts, golf. Snooker, darts, golf…
I don’t think this is working.
I was beginning to regret my decision to be carefree by not bringing a case full of make-up, painting my nails and styling my hair meticulously as I normally would. I wasn’t wearing any eyeliner or mascara, and rather than my normal Lancôme Teint Idole foundation, which gave me full coverage, I was only wearing a light Laura Mercier tinted moisturiser. And as for my hair, although I’d had it freshly blow-dried for my birthday yesterday, as I was going for comfort, today I had thrown it into a ponytail, something I only ever did when I was at the gym or at home where no one would see me.
In short, after taking my mum’s comments on board, today I was a million miles away from my normal on duty, flawlessjust in case I bump into someonelook, and I admit, I was so used to my routine that being practically bare-faced made me feel a bit exposed.
I had contemplated using the half an hour before lunch to top up my make-up, give myself an emergency coat of quick-dry nail polish that I’d put in my bag at the last minute and attempt to smooth my hair down with my hairdryer. But then I thought, that would besoobvious. Everyone would realise straight away that I was trying to impress the hottest guy in Italy (not that I’d seen all of the guys in Italy, but this one must be on the podium and in the running to win gold, silver or bronze). Plus, I reminded myself that I needed to relax a bit more and start to feel as confident without make-up and all my beauty bells and whistles as I did with them.
I surveyed the table. Oh dear. If my birthday dinner last night was food heaven, then this was surely close to food hell. There were two types of salami (I hate salami with a passion). Chicken liver pâté (I hate pâté and I really,reallyhate anything to do with liver) and all different types of cheese. Yep. Unless it’s melted mozzarella on a pizza, I hate cheese too.
Not a problem. This was thenewme. I’d drunk from a dirty glass and if I could do that, I could do anything. As much as I detested literally everything on the table, I was going to give it a try. After all, I’d watched enough episodes ofCome Dine with Meto know how much fellow diners will take an instant dislike to people who whinge about not eating this or that without even having the courtesy to try the food first. So, with much trepidation, I loaded my plate with a bit of everything on the table and got stuck in.
Mmm. I was pleasantly surprised. The salami was actually really nice. Nothing like what I’d tried in the UK. The cheese was lovely, and the pâté…well, I wasn’t in love with it, but at least I’d given it a go.
I was proud of myself. And despite the nerves that came from sitting next to Lorenzo without my hair and make-up looking flawless, I didn’t drop any food on my clothes or dribble pathetically when he caught my eye. More progress.
In around one hour’s time, we would be starting our first cookery lesson. Which would mean spending more time in close proximity to lush Lorenzo. How the hell was I going to keep my cool?
Snooker, darts, golf. Snooker, darts, golf…
Forget having a disco nap when I get to my room. Looks like I had sixty minutes to find a phrase to prevent me from fantasizing about him that will actually bloody work!
