Antonio played the perfect tour guide, pointing out the history of a random building here or a random statue there. At first, she enjoyed it; the deepness of his voice, the heat of his arm beneath her hand, the magic of Rome.
But every now and then something about his tone unsettled her. Commanding, self-assured in his knowledge, yet distant. An occasional glance confirmed that his face was smooth, almost devoid of expression. The teasing glint she’d glimpsed last night when she’d fallen off the stage, the whimsical offer of a coin to toss in the fountain, were absent, replaced by a mysterious man she didn’t know.
The thought dimmed some of her excitement. He reminded her of his older brother, Adrian. A little more personable but restrained, in control. Granted, he was in charge of two European luxury hotels, a hotel in the Caribbean and a real estate firm with properties around the world. Being intimidating was probably a billionaire requirement.
It didn’t take away some of the nostalgic sadness for the boy with a kind smile and a deep soul who had been her friend, her protector and eventually her love. Come to think of it, she’d noticed that distance in him before yesterday. The one and only other time she’d seen him in the last ten years, at the party in Paris. She’d remembered him being happy, carefree, almost worshipping of his brothers back in Granada. But that day, even though she’d seen him congratulating Adrian on the balcony, there had been something reserved in his manner.
Whatever had happened to Antonio had affected more than just their friendship. Curiosity and sadness trickled through her.
“Everything all right?”
She looked up into his handsome face. Eyes the color of molten dark chocolate, thick brows drawn into a slight frown. She’d once been able to tell him everything. She’d taken a leap last night when she’d gotten back up on the catwalk. What if she took another leap now? Asked what had happened, what had changed him?
“Anna?”
“Fine,” she responded brightly. What was the point in pushing? She didn’t know the man escorting her through Rome. She knew who he used to be. But what would it accomplish to ask an intimate question when in an hour or two he’d once again be out of her life?
His lips parted, probably to pursue. He’d been the one person Uncle Diego had trusted her with. Would Diego have allowed the friendship had he known that Antonio pushed her, encouraged her? The adventures he’d planned, from wandering the streets of Granada after school to exploring the mountain slopes, had reinvigorated her joy for life after her parents’ deaths. He’d drawn her out of the armor everyone else had built to keep her safe, dismantling it piece by piece, then done the unthinkable; handed her the reins to fix whatever obstacle she’d been facing, from bullies at school to what she wanted to do after graduation. It had been empowering. Strengthening.
It had made her fall in love with him.
She looked away, searching for something, anything, to distract him.
“Oh!”
The exclamation that burst from her lips was authentic. A stone boat sat in the middle of the street, partially sunk below the cobblestones. The boat lay in a small pool, water trailing over the sides and out the bow and stern. A smaller fountain stood in the middle of the boat, shedding water into its belly.
“I didn’t even know this existed,” she breathed as they drew closer. “I can’t believe it’s just sitting in the middle of the road.”
“It’s suffered damage here and there.”
“I’d never have guessed with how perfect it looks. What’s it called?”
“Fontana della Barcaccia. Fountain of the Leaky Boat.”
She laughed. “Descriptive.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “Legend has it that when the city flooded in 1598, a boat was left in this exact spot when the waters receded.”
“What a lovely piece of lore.” Her eyes moved past him and settled on the Spanish Steps climbing up to the Trinità dei Monti, the crosses of the church’s two towers standing tall against the backdrop of a few puffy clouds drifting lazily across the sky. Terra-cotta pots overflowing with bright pink flowers were artfully placed all over the staircase.
“I don’t know which is more beautiful,” Anna said with another laugh as she darted around the fountain and started for the stairs. She bounced up the first flight, giddiness and anticipation filling her with every step. She stopped at the first landing and spun around, her smile so wide it almost hurt, but she couldn’t stop it even if she’d wanted to as she breathed Rome in. The gentle fragrance of the flowers surrounding her, the soft hum of conversation as more people moved into the plaza and ascended the Steps, the warmth of the sun on her back as it climbed higher into the sky. Somewhere, a musician started to play an accordion, the rich, reedy melody adding the perfect festive touch to an already perfect scene.
And Antonio. Against all odds, she was sharing this incredible moment with someone who had been a dear friend, her fellow adventurer. She smiled down at him...
For a moment she thought a cloud had moved over the sun as the plaza dimmed. Goose bumps pebbled on her skin. Antonio was staring at her, standing on the bottom step, eyes narrowed, jaw tight and expression almost cold. A look she’d seen once before, an expression of disdain.
She crossed her arms over her stomach. She knew what would come next...unless she left before he could reject her again.
Had she truly thought she could handle the pain she’d known was waiting at the end? She should have told him no outside the hotel, walked away with her head held high instead of setting herself up for this.
She swallowed hard and hurried back along the steps.
“Sorry, got caught up in the moment. It’s starting to get busy.” Her lips began to ache they were stretched so tight into an overly bright smile “It was nice to see you, Antonio. I have to get back, we’re supposed to leave by—”
“Anna.” He stepped in front of her and blocked her path.
She inhaled deeply to steady herself, but all it did was fill her with the scent of him.