Chapter 20
We've arrived in Rome, and the first order of business is getting to the Airbnb we rented.
Sam and I will be staying there together for as long as we're here.
From what I saw on the drive from the airport, the city is beautiful and enchanting, and we'll have plenty of places to visit, but right now, we have a lot of work ahead of us.
Our apartment is lovely—small, but with everything we need.
We unpacked our suitcases so our clothes wouldn't wrinkle any more than they already had, then took showers.
We each have our own room with an ensuite, which we love.
We were tired but starving, so we got dressed and went looking for something to eat.
We walked around the neighborhood near the apartment so we wouldn't get lost, since it was already late and getting dark.
We found a restaurant and decided to check it out.
We both ordered carbonara, which reminded me of Mattia—of when he made it for me.
I wondered if I'd run into him here. I really wanted to see him again.
We finished our meal and went straight back to the apartment to rest. Tomorrow we'll have to wake up early to start on the project, or we'll end up spending more time on it than necessary.
I was exhausted from the trip, so I lay down and passed out, waking up the next day to my alarm. Time to get to work.
“Good morning, ladies. How was your night?”
“Hi, Henry. Yesterday we just grabbed dinner and came back—we were tired.”
“We'll have plenty of time to explore once the project is finished,” I say.
“So let's get started. I'm going to take you to see the space that'll become the office—where you'll be working while you're here.”
We get in the car and head out, arriving minutes later.
It's a small building in San Pietro. The office will be on the top floor—the sixth.
We take the elevator up, and when we arrive, I can see what a beautiful space it is, with huge glass windows, several rooms, and a hallway with a staircase leading to the terrace. That's where I head.
We go up there and I'm captivated. My head is already spinning with so many great ideas for the space—I just hope they get approved. I head back down and take a closer look at the place, jotting down notes, taking measurements, and exchanging ideas with Henry.
After seeing everything, we went to check out where we'll be working—it's very close by. Henry's friend and business partner set us up with a room so we could work on the project in peace and stay close to them, which is great.
“Henry, it's been a while.” Nicola, the owner, comes to greet us.
“Good to see you, Nicola. This is Emma,” he says, pointing to me, “and Samantha, who'll be assisting with the project.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Mr...?” I ask, extending my hand.
“Just Nicola, please. Being called 'mister' makes me feel old,” he says, returning my handshake.
“Can we get started? From what I saw, this project is going to take a while, given the scope of the renovation.”
“Of course, let's go. You saw the space—what did you think, Emma?”
“I left with a lot of ideas and made some notes, but I'd like to hear what you prefer style-wise.”
And that's how we spent our day—talking, sharing opinions.
I pitched some ideas, which they approved, especially my concept for the rooftop as a break area for employees.
So I got started. Sam and I had a lot to do.
It was almost six p.m. and already dark when Nicola knocked on the door and came in.
“Time to wrap up, ladies—it's already getting dark outside.”
“The day flew by and we didn't even notice.”
“Seriously, I was so focused that I didn't even realize it got dark,” I say.
I look at Sam. “Want to go out for dinner?”
“Thanks, Nicola, but we're heading home. I want to look over all my notes from today.”
“Of course. I'll take you, then. Henry had to leave, and I promised him I'd get you home safely.”
“Let's go, then.”
We gather our things and head out into the cold Roman night. We get in the car and head toward our temporary home. I gaze out the window, watching the city go by, when I see him. He's leaving a restaurant, getting into a car. I catch the name of the place—so we're closer than I thought. I smile.
“Here you are, safe and sound. See you tomorrow. This weekend, we’re taking you out, and I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Of course, we’ll be more settled by then. Thanks so much for the ride.”
“Henry will pick you up in the morning.”
I give a little wave and close the car door. We head into the building, and my mind is on Mattia—I still can’t believe he’s in the city. I know he has two restaurants here, but I never expected to run into him.
“Emma, are you listening to me?”
“What? Oh, sorry, Sam, can you say that again?”
“What were you thinking about—or who?”
“I think I saw Mattia on the way back.”
“Are you sure it was him?”
“Yes, I’d recognize that Italian anywhere.”
“He really got under your skin, huh?” she says with a smile. “It’s good to see you like this, with someone new on your mind and that goofy smile on your face.”
“I really thought I’d never fall in love again, but I was wrong. I’m just scared of getting hurt.”
“Stop that, Emma. You know Mattia—you know he’s nothing like Frank. You deserve to be happy, girl.”
“I know, but I’m scared.”
“Just go with it. If fate brought you back together, it’s meant to be.”
I spend the rest of the week thinking about what Sam said.
Should I go to him? Try to contact him? The week flies by, and I decide to let fate take its course.
And it does—on Saturday, Henry texts saying he’ll pick us up at eight sharp to go to a club.
Since we promised to go, we’re ready on time.
I just wasn’t prepared for what I’d find that night.
Chapter 21
It was Saturday, and Owen invited me to check out a new club owned by a friend. Since I had nothing going on, I decided to go—after all, my dear friend wouldn’t take no for an answer. So at eight o’clock sharp, he was waiting outside my building.
“What’s the occasion this time?”
“Just a regular night out. A friend of mine just opened this club—American-style—and I was curious to check it out.”
“So it won’t be the usual ‘meeting,’” I say, making air quotes.
“You really think I only leave the house for that kind of thing?”
“You’re a workaholic—worse than me, even. When you’re not at the courthouse, you’re holed up in your office.”
“You know my job demands it. And look who’s talking—like you haven’t been living like a workaholic since you got back.”
“My restaurants need me too.”
“Or maybe you just can’t get a certain someone out of your head. Why don’t you go after her?”
“Emma’s with someone else. I’m not going to ruin her relationship.”
“How do you know that? Have you talked to her?”
“When I went to say goodbye, I saw her with her boyfriend. That’s all I needed to see.”
“Ah, so that’s why you’ve got that lost puppy look. You didn’t get dumped—not directly—but you got left behind.”
“There’s that sense of humor of yours.”
“We’re here. Fix your face and put on a smile—you don’t want to scare anyone.”
Owen is one of those high-energy Americans.
Despite all his problems, he always seems more relaxed when we go out together.
The line at the entrance is massive, but as usual, we slip in through a side door and bypass the crowd.
I don’t love doing that, but when it’s an option, I take it.
We’re escorted upstairs to the VIP area, where there are several private rooms on the same floor.
I look around and spot a bar, a couple of tables, and a couch in the corner.
I head to the bar and grab a whiskey. My friend won’t be drinking tonight since he’s driving. Drink in hand, I walk over to a glass wall overlooking the floor below. It’s packed.
I hear a voice behind me and turn around. “Owen, glad you could make it.”
“Thomas! And I brought a friend.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Mattia Bianchi, owner of the Cucina Italiana chain. I go there all the time—great atmosphere. I need to check out the New York location. I hear the design turned out amazing.”
“It did. The designer we chose really knew what she was doing—she captured the essence of the city perfectly.”
“I’ll be heading there next week. I like to visit my clubs whenever I can—you never know what’s going on when you’re not around. Make yourselves at home. I need to greet some more guests, but if you need anything, just let me know.”
Our chat is brief. He leaves the room while I head back to the bar for another drink—my third. Owen walks over and says,
“Easy there—I’m not carrying anyone home tonight.”
“I can take care of myself—I’m a big boy.”
I head back to where I was, look through the glass again, and I see her. It has to be my imagination—or the alcohol. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again. It’s not my mind playing tricks on me. It’s really her. That long red hair, swaying to the beat of the music. She’s beautiful, as always.
I notice Samantha, her friend, is with her. But what are they doing here? I wonder, when I hear—
“What’s so interesting down there?” He follows my gaze. “So that’s your diavola. Very beautiful, by the way.”
“What is she doing here?” I ask myself, but it’s Owen who answers.
“Work, maybe. We could go down and ask.”
“You stay right where you are.”
“And you’re just going to let her slip away? From what I can tell, she’s alone—or rather, with another woman.”
I look around and don’t see the man who was with her that day.
Could she really be alone? I watch as she leaves the dance floor and heads toward a door like the one we came through, her friend beside her.
She came as a guest. Should I go to her?
I watch a little longer. The VIP area is pretty open—you can see the other sections through the glass.
That’s when she stops in front of the glass and our eyes meet.
She’s facing me from the opposite side. Neither of us looks away, and we stay like that until my friend speaks.
“She’s with Nicola—or rather, in the same area as him. Let’s go over there.”
And so we go. Finally, after two months, I’ll see her again—but first, I need to know what she’s doing here. We reach the room where she was, and when I walk in, I see Henry, Carter’s friend whom I met at my restaurant’s opening. He answers my unspoken question about what my ragazza is doing here.
“Bianchi, what a pleasure to see you again. I stopped by one of your restaurants this week.”
“I hope you were well taken care of.” I can’t take my eyes off her.
“Absolutely, you have an excellent team. I see you’ve already spotted Emma?”
“She’s here with you?”
“She came to work on a project for a new office. We’ll be here for quite a while.”
I stop listening to whatever else he says and head toward her. She’s beautiful in a black dress with thin straps, tight and hugging her gorgeous body, black stockings and red heels, her hair framing her delicate, freckled face.
“Hello, Miss Emma.”
“Hi, Mr. Mattia.”
“I didn’t expect to find you here, in Italy.”
“Well, a job came up and I decided to combine it with my vacation and my desire to see the city. So here I am.”
“And did you come alone?” I wonder if I’m being clear with the question.
“Sam and I came. We’re going to work together.”
“You know what I meant, Emma.”
“You’re asking if I’m with someone here. No, Mattia, I’m alone. I always have been.”
I don’t understand her answer. I saw her with a man at the door of Carter’s company, and if I’m not mistaken, he called her love—but I set that aside.
I wanted her here so badly, and finally, she’s in front of me.
Being here with her feels like it recharges my energy.
Then I remember our moments together and realize it was always like that. But now what? What will become of us?