Chapter Eight
Eight
Il Futuro
Lorenzo
D aisy tempts me like no other woman ever has. I’m always in control, smoothly sailing through any situation, but with her, I’m a derailed train.
Right now, on this terrace, I need to use all my strength not to rip off her clothes, lay her on the table, and thrust into her as if she’s mine.
She pokes the male animal in me and seems to want the beast. She’s wild too. I do my best to give her what I can when we’re not in complete privacy. This is my workplace, for God’s sake. It’s too easy to forget…
Her nails scratch my back, and I enjoy the pain. I enjoy her tongue in my mouth as I press my pelvis against her delicate frame, and she moans. Can I bring her to my private quarters without anyone seeing us? Maybe if we use the emergency exit… The back door…
The door to the terrace unlocks.
I freeze, ears alert to confirm what I thought I’d heard. Someone’s entering.
Fuck.
My instincts take over as my organs feel like they’ve been showered in ice.
Luckily, Daisy has also heard the door and acts quickly. All I have time to do is get my hands off her, run them over my hair, and take two steps away, toward the railing. She also distances herself from the wall, but her hair is still messy.
And her bra is open under her T-shirt.
With my heart hammering against my chest, I watch the person walk onto the terrace toward me.
Luigi.
My heart rises to my throat, and I’m afraid my troubled breathing will confirm any suspicion he might have. Not to mention the tightness in my pants, shrinking too slowly… Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. I’m doomed.
I move behind a chair and rest my hands on the backrest. Breathe… You only need a few seconds… The moment is over… He didn’t see anything . I try to calm myself. When Luigi walked through the door, we weren’t kissing anymore.
Now, we are just two people standing side by side, watching the Venetian landscape.
Two very wrinkled, disheveled people panting as if they ran up the stairs.
It’s not the first time Luigi has walked in on me kissing someone. I remember the astonishment on his face when I’d been working here for only three weeks, and he caught me making out with a receptionist in the alley behind the hotel.
It was after our shift and outside the hotel grounds, so we were within our rights, but the episode was so embarrassing for Rosa that she couldn’t look Luigi in the eye the entire week that followed, and then she quit.
She was a rather innocent young woman, and Luigi started mockingly calling me a deflowerer.
Maybe because I also seemed to make a trainee and two young maids blush.
I didn’t think the title was fair, but it was a relief that a Catholic-born old man like Luigi didn’t mind having such an indecorous employee.
It amused him. Not in a mean or sexist way—it was more like how a forgiving father fondly scolds a son because he has made many mistakes in his own youth. We bonded even more after that.
Now, it’s different, however. Even though Daisy is almost properly dressed, and he didn’t catch us in the act, I doubt he would think this is funny.
It will only prove he was right about not promising me the manager position. I’m not committed. I can’t be trusted.
“Eccolo!” Luigi exclaims a “here he is” in Italian, and I smile as if nothing is happening. I need to use my smooth-operator skills. They’ll be more useful than ever. If I just remain calm…
“ Ciao , Luigi,” I say with my most casual tone. “Sorry I didn’t let you know I was coming here. Have you been looking for me long?”
“No, not long,” he says, and I try to read his expression. Does he know? Am I so transparent? Is the situation indeed too obvious? Some people would see me alone with a beautiful woman and immediately guess the result. Now, is Luigi ready to trust me or to believe I’ve disappointed him?
I don’t want him to realize I’ve disappointed him.
I glance at Daisy. Her arms are crossed over her chest, probably keeping her open bra in place. She looks tense, but does a good job giving a cordial smile.
“Luigi, this is Daisy Hogan.” I motion toward her. “She’s in room 305. I’ve been helping her and her friend Jeremy Burton, as I told you.”
Luigi takes a step closer and offers his hand to Daisy. She shakes it with a smile.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Marchesi. I’ve heard many good things about you.”
As always, Luigi’s ego is inflated when he is complimented. It’s also hard not to smile back at Daisy.
“The pleasure is mine, Ms. Hogan,” Luigi says, ending the handshake. His eyes find mine, and they are a bit too piercing. My stomach sinks. “Did Lorenzo show you all our secrets?”
She laughs, a bit uncomfortably. I’m ready to start babbling our way out of this, but she speaks first. “It’s a lovely rooftop terrace, indeed.
Very romantic.” She looks at me, and my insides spin like a washing machine.
“I think Lorenzo is right, and this would be an excellent place for a romantic dinner. Jeremy will love it.”
Wait, what? Is she the smooth operator saving me?
“I told Daisy we would need to ask you first,” I pick up from where she left off. “So, good timing, Luigi.”
Oh God, I want to laugh. I look at Daisy and see she’s also holding back a cackle.
“Are you asking if you can have an exclusive dinner for two here?” Luigi looks at me with his gray eyebrows lightly lifted. “Well, of course. Just coordinate it with the kitchen staff.”
“I thought it would be okay. That’s why I brought Daisy to see the place. I just wanted to confirm with you.”
“Next time, trust your judgment and go ahead,” he says to me, then looks at Daisy, smiling kindly. “I’m aware of your…project, and I told Lorenzo he is free to do what he believes to be suitable, so don’t be afraid to make requests. You have his email and direct phone line, I assume?”
And personal cell phone number. I swallow hard.
“Yes,” Daisy answers, hugging herself as though she needs a real hug. I’m going to give one to her at the first opportunity.
“Great. Don’t be shy then. In the absence of the British royal family, you and Mr. Burton are our VIPs.” Luigi winks and Daisy smiles gracefully.
I can’t believe we avoided disaster. I can’t believe he accepts nothing happened between us.
Maybe he doesn’t.
But he is being civilized, and that’s a start. He’s giving me the benefit of the doubt, and I’m grateful.
They could have met under different circumstances. I will never be able to introduce her as my girlfriend. The thought makes me feel a tight knot in my stomach. But at least they’ve met. And I don’t know why, but that makes me happy.
“Can you come with me now, Lorenzo? I have a businessman downstairs asking for you.”
“Sure.” I turn to Daisy with my professional posture. “Would you like to stay a little longer?” Lucky us, Luigi doesn’t know I’ve given her a key and she came up here with Jeremy a few nights ago, or our lie wouldn’t have landed.
“No thanks, it’s getting chilly. I’ll return to my room. But thank you for showing me your rooftop terrace. It’s really nice.”
“No problem, young lady.” Luigi puts a hand on her shoulder. I like to see him treat her in his kind, cheerful way. I want them to like each other. Maybe because he’s family, and I wish she were too.
I lock the terrace with my heart on my sleeve. I haven’t thought about getting married since I decided not to get married.
It’s strange to think of marrying a woman I only met a few days ago.
The Casanova in me gags.
* * *
As soon as Daisy exits the elevator on the third floor and the doors close, sealing Luigi and me in the tiny rectangular space, he gives me a lengthy, inquiring gaze. I try to swallow the knot in my throat and keep my composure.
“Così?” he says when I remain quiet, his arms crossed tight over his chest, wrinkling his perfectly ironed violet tie. “So?”
“Che cosa?” I tuck my hands into my pockets, pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about.
“Il progetto?” The project?
I look at his face, the wrinkles around his eyes, and conclude he’s not asking if the project is going well.
He knows it isn’t.
I’m saved by the elevator reaching the ground floor. Before I can exit, however, he lays a hand on my shoulder and says in Italian, “My office. Now.”
I struggle to put one shaky leg in front of the other until we reach the hotel manager’s office. Which will likely never be mine.
He enters first, and I dread the act of closing the door behind me, trapping us in the beautiful, tidy office I don’t deserve to occupy. I’m reckless and unreliable. I want more responsibility, but I can’t even handle my own emotions.
The time has come. This is the day when Luigi finally fires me.
I take a seat in front of his desk. I know this won’t be a quick conversation, and my feet are too unstable to keep me upright.
Luigi sits in his soft leather chair with his normal relaxed posture, which is a relief. He looks tired and maybe a bit disappointed. But he doesn’t have the stance of someone ready to fire his favorite employee.
“All I want from you, Lorenzo, is that you don’t make this hard for me. I really want to give you the job.”
I look down, breathing with difficulty, trying to decide my strategy. Honesty or more lies? It should be simple, but it isn’t.
“I still have time, don’t I? I’ll make things right. I’ll make you proud.”
Luigi snorts, and my heart races as I try to interpret what that means. Does he think I’m a lost cause?
I could tell him nothing was happening. I could maintain the lie from the terrace.
But would that make me a better candidate for the job? A better friend? A better man?
“This isn’t about our bet,” Luigi says, more serious than ever. “I know things change. Maybe you realized you were being too idealistic. And that’s okay. I know you tried.”
I look at my lap, feeling stupid and ashamed. I don’t want to admit defeat.
Suddenly, it all hits me. The ridiculousness of the situation. The fact that I fell in love with a guest and messed up everything.