I giggle as he pulls up in front of a small house, an Airbnb.
“This looks very nice, Massimo.”
“Say it again.”
“What?” I give him a questioning look but smile.
“My name.”
“Why?”
“I like to hear it from you,” he says and leans towards me as we unlock our seatbelts.
“Massimo,” I whisper, not sure why I’m taunting him by trying to sound sexy.
“Um…” His lips cover mine and I can’t help but yield to him. My eyes close, my tummy does flip flops and there is a knock on my window that makes me jump.
“What the fuck?” I burst out, frightened that a bird or something worse hit the car.
Massimo chuckles, and it’s the only reason I don’t get overworked about it. Then I see Savio looking at us through the window and making a goofy face.
“Let me guess, he’s single.”
“You’re catching on my little bluebird.”
I like the way he says it, warm and endearing. Is he capable of love or am I dreaming? How could he love me? I can’t dress worth a shit. He had a stylist work with me, but I’m still challenged. I can walk in heels, that’s a given for every Italian woman. But, no matter how I try, I’ll never be Sophia Loren.
Savio and Micro park beside us and grab our overnight bags. Massimo surprised me with a set of luggage to match his, which is thoughtful. I’m told it’s an expensive brand.
We check in under his name Rizzo and it’s funny because his name on the mail says Romano. I can see why he told me the truth; I’m involved in both lives indirectly, but today the two worlds collide.
“How are you introducing me at the wedding if we’re the opposing mafia?”
“I’ll say you’re my fiancée whom I met and fell in love with at his ill-fated wedding, the one you weren’t invited to.” He shrugs and laughs. “I have no clue.”
“We aren’t crashing this wedding, are we?”
“No, in fact, I expect there will be business going on and that might be why I was invited.”
“Business?” I ask, drawing my finger across my neck.
“Oh, stop, it’s not that dramatic. Like I said, that would then make it two weddings with dead bodies. I think we’re safe.”
I’d be more relaxed if I knew for sure his life wasn’t in danger. No doubt I’m aging myself with all this worry about his gorgeous ass.
“I need a drink, let’s have something. Champagne, can we do that?”
He turns to me as we enter our master bedroom, his eyes taking in every thought and emotion, and he nods. He understands I need it for my anxiety.
“Sure.” With no room service to call, he asks Micro to get us some items at the local store and grab some snacks.
It’s sweet he thinks to put something on my tummy before alcohol as I’m such a lightweight.
“I guess we should get dressed,” I suggest, putting my luggage on the bench at the end of the bed and opening it.
“Yes, we have just over an hour.”
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