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“Ah, well, that would be wonderful,” Gianni sits down beside me. “But I have a few weeks as a substitute on the bench until I prove myself.” He smiles and gazes at the view that I’m sketching. Then he says quietly, “And maybe, then you will be back home.” There’s a moment before he changes his voice to a brighter tone. “But I will send you tickets for my first match, and you’ll have to come! Haha.”
“That’s a great idea.”
I didn’t like soccer and I wasn’t interested in the game, but I was so very interested in watching Gianni play. He is a born athlete. His body is lithe, trim, and muscular. His skin is as smooth as Michelangelo’s marble David. I blush as an image of his naked torso invades the view I was trying to capture in my sketchbook. My concentration is lost. Some loud-talking tourists pass close by. I decide that the drawing is finished, kind of. I lean back to appraise my work.
“It’s beautiful,” Gianni says looking at my scribbly lines and smudges. “You are a great artist.”
“No. No, I’m not. I just scribble what I see.” I close my sketchbook, suddenly self-conscious about my dreams and aspirations. “Maybe one day,” I say slightly embarrassed.
“Not maybe, Libby,” Gianni beams at me. “I know you are.”
Then Gianni leans toward me, his hand brushes my skin on the back of my hand. He looks deep into my eyes and slowly, as if asking for permission, his lips lightly touch mine. He pulls back and smiles.
“You are talented and beautiful,” he whispers as he reaches up to stroke my face. “And I was wrong. This is the best day of my life.”
Gianni leans close to me. I breathe in his heady scent, and before I can resist, he kisses me deeply, with a passionate urgency I never imagined. My head spins, I forget everything. I am kissing Gianni, the most beautiful boy I have ever met, in Florence, the most beautiful place I have ever seen. I am in heaven.
Contessa jumps onto my lap, jogging my thoughts back into Sandy and Desmond’s lounge. She purrs and kneads my thighs. Her way of showing she forgives me for my ineptitude as her servant.
“His daughter is here,” I say stroking Contessa.
“His daughter?” says Desmond and Sandy at once, together.
Then Sandy says, “Okay. That puts a different spin on things. So, there’s a Mrs Gianni Moretti? Ah, babe.” His mouth is a perfect upside-down smile.
“No. At least not now,” I say sheepishly. “I asked.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” says Desmond. “So, you were saying… something about Gianni being different. Because of his daughter. Go on.”
“Yes. He is different.” I choose the words to explain. “He is softer around her. It’s as if he forgets to be the boss.” I laugh as I recall Luisa all dressed up and making the dinner reservation at the hotel. “Because Luisa is the boss.”
“Haha, papa’s little princess, huh?” says Desmond.
“Yes. Yes exactly!” Contessa purrs loudly on my lap. “She’s going to school at Portishead.”
“Ooh, isn’t that one of the top schools? Not just in New York but in the world? I saw a doco about it,” says Sandy with wide eyes. “It has an intake of rich kids from all over. But the acceptance criteria are quite strict. They only take gifted and talented students.”
“That’s what I’ve heard too. Anyway. He is different when Luisa is around. You can see that he loves her so much. And she has him twisted around her little finger. I mean, yes, she is a princess and entitled and…” I laugh at the difference between our worlds. “Oh my, she’s a billionaire’s child. How is she supposed to be?” I shake my head.
“So, you were babysitting at the New Amsterdam penthouse suite, and you saw another side to Gianni? Because of Luisa?”
“Yeah. That’s it, I think.” I’m thoughtful for a moment.
“So, how is it for you working for him? At the gallery, I mean.” Sandy asks with sincerity.
“Oh, he’s hardly ever there,” I say watching Contessa amble over to the boys on the other sofa. “He is out visiting clients or whatever… And when he is at the gallery, I spend all my time avoiding him.” Sandy and Desmond are laughing at me.
“Olivia, you are priceless!” Desmond exclaims. “What if you just behaved like a normal person?”
“Oh, don’t be silly. She’s anything but normal!” quips Sandy.
“Thanks, guys. I don’t know why I come up here.” I roll my eyes to the ceiling. Sandy and Desmond are still giggling. “It’s not as if I dive under my desk when he’s around.” No. I’ve never done that. But I wasn’t going to admit to my friends that I hid behind the filing cabinet. “I tend to keep my head down and just get on with my job.”
“So, you are just the invisible office girl?”
“It’s fine. I’ll get a new job soon, so I don’t have to deal with him anymore. I’ve been practicing my mantra, I’m over it. He’s nothing to me.”
“Oh well done, Olivia. We’re so proud of you,” Desmond says with a tinge of sarcasm that I choose to ignore.
