19. Mr. Perfetto
CHAPTER 19
MR. PERFETTO
I sabella
Why did I ever think allowing this stubborn, pig-headed man to accompany me to Rome would turn out well? My blood is boiling, fiery heat racing through my veins and not in the good way. We spent the entire ride from the airport arguing about whether or not I was allowed to date while in Rome.
Allowed ? Are you fucking kidding me?
I did not get out from under my father’s oppressive hold only to be squashed by Raf’s. Trailing after the obsessive psycho, I stomp up to the building where I’m supposed to live for the next three months with our new driver, Salvatore, hand-picked by my father, following behind us with my luggage. I’m so pissed, I barely notice the beautifully intricate facade or the carefully manicured shrubs teeming with bright pink blossoms. The entrance is adorned with ornate cornices, sculpted reliefs, and arched windows framed by decorative moldings.
Raf jabs his finger at the call button on the aged stone wall.
“ Pronto ?” A gravelly voice echoes through the speaker.
I lose focus as I take in the gorgeous architectural details of the old Renaissance building. It’s been years since I came to Rome with my parents. Unlike most of my friends from high school who got to backpack across Europe after graduation, I was forced to spend the summer with my little brother and parents touring the continent in luxury. I fully realize how bratty I sound, but I missed out on the normal experience, just like I did with practically everything growing up.
“What do you mean the apartment isn’t ready?” Raffaele’s furious growl jerks me back to the present. “Miss Valentino has arrived today, not tomorrow. What am I supposed to do with her now?”
The man across the speaker apologizes a hundred times over in both Italian and English as my guard tears him a new one.
Latching onto Raf’s arm, I tug him away from the call box. “It’s not a big deal, we can just stay at a hotel for the night.”
“That will be difficult, signorina .” Salvatore pivots his gaze to meet my guard’s feral one. “It’s the beginning of Estate Romana , it’s a four-month festival throughout the city featuring film screenings, theatre performances, concerts, special exhibitions, and more. Finding a hotel so last minute will prove challenging.” He swallows hard as he forces out the last word.
“Fucking unbelievable,” Raf grumbles.
“I would offer you my home,” Sal continues, “but unfortunately, I live with my family in a small appartamento , and my hospitality would only extend to a cramped sofa.”
“Thanks, Sal, I appreciate the offer, but there are hundreds of hotels in the city.” I pull my phone out of my back pocket and pull up my favorite hotel app. “They can’t possibly all be sold out.” I scroll through the endless list of accommodations and find… nothing. “ Merda .”
Raf is pacing and cursing now, his perfect plan gone awry, and I’ve never seen the man so flustered.
“I know, I’ll just call the professor who coordinated the residency at Policlinico Gemelli . I’m sure he can help us find a place.”
“He better,” Raf grumbles. “Let’s get back to the car. I don’t like being out in the open like this.” I shoot him a super dramatic eyeroll because we are in one of the nicest parts of Rome, not downtown Baghdad, as he escorts me back toward the enormous black limousine. The huge car stands out like a sore thumb among the dainty European vehicles. I’ll never fit in here if I’m forced to ride in that monstrosity all summer. I make a mental note to discuss that with my guardian once he’s in a less murderous mood.
Once we’re safely back behind the tinted windows of the limo, I find the contact information for Professore Ricci and pray he has an answer for us, or I’m afraid Raf might quite literally explode.
Thankfully, the residency coordinator answers on the second ring. “ Pronto ?”
“ Buongiorno, Professore Ricci?”
“ Si ?”
“Hi, this is Isabella Valentino.”
“Oh, yes, of course, signorina Valentino. Professor Dykeman spoke very highly of you.”
Heat flushes my cheeks at the compliment. Dykeman is not one who gives out praises often. “Well, I just arrived from New York and unfortunately my apartment isn’t ready. There was some confusion as to my arrival date. I tried to find a hotel, but the entire city seems booked. You wouldn’t happen to have any insider tips, would you?”
“Ah, that is going to be a bit problematic with Estate Romana kicking off this weekend. But wait, give me a second, I will think of something.” The click-clack of quick fingers striking a keyboard echoes through the phone line.
“Thank you, I really appreciate your help, Professore Ricci.” I thrum my fingers against the supple leather of the backseat.
“Please, call me Massimo. We will be seeing a lot of each other this summer, and my full name and title would get quite tiresome.”
“Okay, Massimo.”
Raf sits beside me, tension vibrating from his entire form. His thigh brushes against mine, and I can feel the coiled muscle beneath his slacks. I whirl on him and mouth, “Relax.”
“Ah, I’ve found something, signorina . It’s likely not what you’re used to at home, but it is clean and close to the center of town.”
“I’m sure it’ll be just fine.”
“ Perfetto . I will have my assistant, Carlo, make a reservation at the pensione , so the owner knows to expect you. Her name is Bianca, and she will be the most gracious hostess. I will text you the address now.”
“ Grazie tanto , Massimo.”
“No need to thank me, I’m happy to help. I will see you on Monday at the Policlinico . If anything else should arise, please do not hesitate to contact me.”
The moment I pocket my phone, Raf’s enraged eyes meet mine. “So?”
“Relax, everything is under control.” A part of me can’t help the satisfaction at seeing my cool and collected bodyguard so unhinged. I guess Mr. Perfetto isn’t so perfect after all. I cross the sprawling backseat and press the button that opens the window to the driver’s portion of the vehicle. “I’ve got an address, Sal.”
As I read the name and address to our new driver, Raf looms over my shoulder. A muttered curse squeezes through his gritted teeth.
“What’s wrong now?”
He looses a frustrated breath and sits back on the seat as I buckle my seatbelt. “The area hasn’t been scouted, the staff vetted… nothing. I spent days researching the area around the apartment, the owner, past tenants, etcetera.”
“I’m sure everything will be fine. It’s one night, Raf. What could possibly go wrong?”
“Well, merda .” I stare at the tiny room with one queen size bed that spreads from wall to wall, and my heart just about hits the soles of my feet.
“ Mi dispiace, signorina , but this is the only room available.”
Yeah, I’m sorry too, because there is no way I’m sharing a bed with my bodyguard. And there’s not even a couch.
Bianca stands beside me in the doorway, her long silver hair pulled into a bun, as I eye the closet-sized quarters. There’s not even a private bathroom in the pensione , instead all the rooms on the floor share the one in the hallway. In all fairness, there are only six in the petite establishment, three on each floor, but still, that means sharing a toilet and a shower with strangers.
“No, absolutely not, this will not do.” Raf drops our suitcases, then stomps around the room before letting loose on the poor woman in Italian.
I jerk him back when the little old lady starts to tremble. “Enough!” I growl, digging my fingernails into his arm. Once he’s stopped cursing, I slam my palms into his annoyingly firm chest and shove him down on the bed. Then I spin around to face the woman once more muttering apologies. “The room will be fine, grazie .” Then I pull a fifty Euro bill from my pocket and sneak it into her hand. “I’m so sorry about him.”
Shaking her head, Bianca darts out of the room so fast my head spins. When the door slams shut behind her, I whirl on the big brute still muttering curses in Italian. “That was totally uncalled for.”
“How can she expect us to sleep here?” He points back and forth between us like a madman.
“It’s not her fault. We’re lucky we’re not spending the night in the limo.”
“Maybe that’s not the worst idea,” he mumbles as he drags his hand through his hair. “It’ll be more comfortable than the floor.” He points at the sliver of space between the end of the mattress, the suitcases and the door.
I’m not even certain those broad shoulders of his will fit.
“You’re right. You go sleep in the car, and I’ll be right here.” I plop down beside him, and stretch out, the jet lag starting to hit hardcore.
He snorts on a laugh. “Like I would leave you here by yourself, principessa .”
“You’re right… Bianca seems like a shifty one. You better keep an eye on her while I take a quick nap.”
The ghost of a smile tilts up the corner of his lip, and I refuse to acknowledge the flutter of wings it incites low in my belly. Instead, I curl under the blankets and my head sinks into the pillow.
He blows out a frustrated breath and pushes up to his feet. “Sleep, principessa , we’ll figure out the evening’s arrangements later.”
I barely hear the last part of his sentence as sleep takes hold, my lids so heavy I can do nothing but succumb to the darkness.