Chapter Twenty-Two
As soon as I’m back in my room, staring at my limited clothing, I realise agreeing to go to dinner with not one, but two world-famous superstars in Rome might’ve been a stretch.
I don’t scratch my head for too long before I’m knocking on Gus’s door down the hall. He arrives moments later, freshly damp from the shower with only a towel wrapped low on his waist.
Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look!
I looked. Obviously.
“Oh, I’m sorry…” I say, blinking away, heat rushing to my cheeks. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I—”
“Are you blushing?” he asks, surprise in his tone.
“Well, you are practically naked,” I point out.
He looks down at himself. I follow his eyes; a light trail of hair starts between the neat grooves of his torso then narrows as it reaches the towel. It doesn’t take much work to imagine what’s beneath that. I swallow and shake myself out of it.
Why did I come here again?
Oh yes, clothes.
“I have a problem,” I say.
“Is it me?”
“No, you’re just a pain. I don’t have anything to wear.”
Gus regards me plainly for a minute. “And yet you’re not naked,” he says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Funny.” I sigh, letting my arms drop. “Where are we going? Is it somewhere fancy? Somewhere I’ll need a dress? I doubt Cole eats anywhere that doesn’t have a Michelin star.”
“You’d be surprised. He’s actually a massive slob.”
“Stop shit-talking him to me, it ruins the fantasy.”
Gus only chuckles to himself. “Hang on, I’ll call him.” He heads back into the room and grabs his phone off the nightstand, holding it to his ear. Cole picks up straight away.
“Mate, where we eating?” he asks. I can hear the low drumbeat of Cole’s voice down the line.
Gus nods along, keeping his eyes firmly on my face the entire time.
I try to act like this isn’t incredibly intimate and making my heart beat faster than it should be and take slow discreet breaths to steady myself.
Finally, Gus says, “In that case, can I borrow your wardrobe? Our stuff is on the cruise.” He nods, hangs up then holds a finger up to me as he closes the door. One moment later he comes back out in a white dressing gown and slippers.
“Follow me,” he instructs.
“I doubt I’m going to find anything to wear in Cole’s wardrobe.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. For one, he’s six foot five.”
Gus makes a dismissive sound. “Please. He’s pushing six three.”
Gus leads me across the villa to where Cole’s master suite is, and – to my surprise – Aline is already waiting for us at an enormous wooden door.
She doesn’t speak much English as she ushers us into what I can only describe as a walk-in wardrobe on steroids.
She quickly finds a white shirt and some dark trousers to fit Gus before shooing him away and focusing her attention on me.
She closes the door behind him, so I don’t catch what he says as he leaves.
Aline looks me up and down with warm green eyes, nods and guides me to another corner of the room, with mahogany shelves and lit up mirrors.
I wish I could ask her how long she’s worked here, she has a very gentle, nurturing energy about her.
Her first choice, which she holds up against me so I can see my reflection in the mirror, is a long, tight red dress that, quite honestly, intimidates me.
It’s beautiful but way too sexy.
As if she gets all of this from my facial expressions alone, she nods and takes it back. The next two outfits are the wrong fit. Finally, she pulls out a sleek black dress with a slit up one side. Its far more my style, even if it would annihilate my usual clothing budget, so I try it on.
Despite it being more fitted than I expected, the fabric sheer in places, it gives business sexy. And it’s completely my style. I turn to Aline as she’s picking out grey snake print heels for me to pair with it. “Why does Cole have so many clothes for women?” I ask, genuinely bemused.
She smiles wryly. “Women guests,” she explains. “Girlfriends from past.”
I bite my bottom lip and nod at her politeness. I could be severely weirded out right now (and probably should be?!) but as Gus said earlier, when in Rome.
Aline shows me where to forage makeup, hair styling tools and whatever I might need to smarten up. I pinch a brand-new razor and head to the shower, hanging my borrowed dress on the back of my door.
An hour later, I take the main stairs down to meet Gus, hoping he knows where we’re going.
I spot him first, the white shirt a little long on him and buttoned low but, somehow, he makes it work, especially with the dark trousers he’s rolled up at the ankles.
When he hears my footsteps, he does a double take, his eyes landing on my waist, then lower to the split, the tease of my thigh.
His reaction sends a thrill right through me. I really wish I would stop reacting this way to him. I keep telling myself that he’s a popstar and our worlds do not mesh. Once we’re back on the cruise, or back to real life, there’s nothing here that can last. It’s not plausible. It’s not sensible.
Whose to say I’ll ever be able to trust again after everything that happened with Mike?
If only my stomach wasn’t jittery every time he looked my way. Especially since he’s been looking plenty. I’m practically high on the feeling at this point.
He finally corrects himself, clearing his throat and smiling. “You look…”
“Is it ok?” I interrupt. “Not too much? I can wear something else, there were—”
“No, no, don’t change, it’s—” I don’t know why but I don’t want him to finish the sentence.
I point at his suit. “You look smart.”
It’s awkward. I can tell by the press of his lips and the telling glint in his eyes, that he too, thinks I’m being supremely weird about this.
The problem is a compliment from him, right now, would hold too much weight.
Which is ridiculous because I never felt like that with Mike but, then again, when was the last time Mike complimented me?
I can’t honestly remember. I’m not the type of person who needs words of affirmation because if nothing else, they don’t feel true.
So, in fear of his words installing some kind of panic in me, I drive them away.
He blinks down at himself, presses his lips together in thought, then gestures towards the door. “Shall we?”
It’s still light out, but the sun is dropping fast, the city immersed in an orange glow, sharp shadows at every corner.
I’m thankful for the slit in my dress, allowing me to straddle the Vespa, as I hang onto Gus, confidently navigating the busy streets towards our destination.
My hair beneath my helmet rustles in the breeze.
Fifteen minutes later, he parks us down a narrow street between tall, light-coloured buildings and immediately swaps his helmet for his black cap and sunglasses.
He anxiously glances around before taking my hand (an act that’s beginning to feel like it’s second nature) and guiding me towards the promise of music and good food.
As we turn another corner, we’re greeted by a rich aroma of Italian cuisine, fairy lights hung between buildings in a small closed off courtyard with tables and awnings. “Have you been here before?” I ask, since he strides in so purposefully.
He slows a touch, glancing over his shoulder. “Oh yeah. This is one of Cole’s haunts. He’s related to the owner, second cousin or something like that. Hence the hat and shades, in case you were wondering. I’d prefer not to be spotted.”
I check the surroundings for prying eyes.
“Don’t worry,” he adds, squeezing my hand. “We’ll have a spot out the back.”
As soon as we enter the main restaurant a man shouts, “AUGUSTUS!” I almost jump out of my skin but Gus laughs, patting the man on the back and pointing towards a set of stripped curtains behind the bar.
“Sì, sì. I bring you and your beautiful woman drinks right away.”
I look at Gus, waiting pointlessly for him to correct this eccentric man but he just smiles, nods and heads towards the curtains, towing me with him. The delectable waft of garlic, basil and onions has my tastebuds watering.
It’s not until we emerge from the other side that I feel a sudden wave of nerves. This is it. I – Sara Stirling – am about to have dinner in Rome with a world-famous superstar… and Gus (also world-famous but arguably less cool).
It’s absurd. I’m almost lightheaded.
The balcony is a decently sized, private space overlooking a busy roundabout below, surrounded by ancient buildings and beautiful roman architecture. Bougainvillea hangs almost romantically from the floor above and candles are burning on the table set for four.
I almost stumble when I spot Cole and his date.
Gus halts too, blinking. “For fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, eyeing the blonde woman. “Really? Must you turn up everywhere I go?”
The woman, who is absolutely gorgeous, beams at Gus. She stands up to greet us and Gus turns on his heel.
I’m having one of those high-stress, out of body experiences – this will be an ex, or former lover, or something that complicates the feelings I shouldn’t even have for this man and just reinforces the fact that this weird little crush (if we’re calling it that!) is wholly delusional and entirely misplaced – I don’t want to hear the next part because, honestly?
I’ve been enjoying this whole adventure, this daydream.
“I’m so sorry,” he says. “She does this more than I’d like to admit.”
“Who?” I barely croak out, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.
What is happening here?
The woman steps towards me in a figure-hugging green dress, her lips a deep red. She’s absolutely stunning and curvaceous in way I could only dream of. She holds out her hand.
“Hi Sara, please ignore him, he’s just bitter people prefer my company to his.” She sticks her tongue out at him.
What is going on?!
“Keep telling yourself that,” Gus tuts.
She pretends he isn’t here, “I’m Grace. My brother has told me literally nothing about you, so I bullied an invite out of Cole so I could do what I do best.”