Chapter 12

I looked like a crazy person the next morning, pacing the front of the train station. Up and down. Down and up. I must have done a mile before he arrived. He. The guy who’d taken over my thoughts. A man I’d hated more than anything just twenty-four-hours ago. Someone my sisters thought of as a babysitter, someone who could occupy my time while they did what they really wanted to do.

Let them go. I had my own plans. Matteo must have stayed up as late as I had, because when I’d texted him around midnight, he responded immediately.

At least my sisters allowed me to sleep in, leaving a tray of breakfast on the nightstand as they went their separate ways. Kennedy even left a note in the bathroom with a heart and “Love you! Have fun today! ~K” scrawled in her neat handwriting.

Matteo stood a head taller than the rest of the crowd. He wore a black T-shirt that made my heart do a little flip. When his gaze finally found me, his lips curved upward in an approving smile. A knowing smile. Like he knew I’d change my mind all along.

Forcing my feet not to bounce, I moved toward him. It took every ounce of effort I could muster to yank my gaze away and stride past him. “No mutt today?”

“I don’t think the city would survive another day with you two together.”

Since I was turned away, I didn’t see his expression, but I heard the grin in his voice. He hurried ahead of me and opened the door of a black car parked at the curb.

“A car. What a concept.” I nodded in approval as I slipped inside, taking his offered hand, feeling like Elizabeth being assisted by Mr. Darcy . . . and felt an almost electric connection the instant our fingers touched. Like a live wire ran from his legs to the car.

No, more like the current created a storm within me, and he was the road that grounded me, making the rest of the world go silent. Indeed, I found myself leaning toward him. Whatever resistance I experienced yesterday was definitely gone.

“You wouldn’t have gotten into a car with me yesterday if your life depended on it,” he said, waiting for me to settle into my seat. “You thought I was a kidnapper for half the day and a terrorist for the other half.”

“Kidnappers and terrorists use white vans and creepy black SUVs, not red Vespas.”

His text had instructed me to bring a swim suit, so I wore my royal blue bikini underneath my sundress. Although I’d considered not bringing it at all. When musing about his pool yesterday, I’d forgotten how it felt to swim with a guy. Wearing this meant I was okay with him seeing me mostly undressed, and that meant seeing him mostly undressed, and I wasn’t sure why this felt more meaningful than any swimming date I’d ever been on.

“Then my master plan was successful.” He closed the door before striding around the car to the other side. Even walking like that, his form free and determined and confident, did something strange to me. Like, if he were a kidnapper and I knew it, I might have climbed into this car anyway simply because I lacked the power to do otherwise.

Stop it, I reminded myself. If I was really going to spend the day with this guy, I had to rein myself in a bit. Maybe a lot.

He slid into the driver’s seat, bringing a whiff of sun-dried tomatoes and fresh grass with him, and slammed his own door closed. The inside of his car was tidy, almost too clean, and reeking of leather polish and glass cleaner.

“Is this yours?” I asked.

“My sister’s. She’s waiting for us.” He pulled out into traffic. “If you like this vehicle, just wait till you see the next one.”

“What is it this time, a boat?” I groaned inwardly. I’d experienced enough of the Tiber to last a lifetime. Probably had some of it still sitting in my stomach. But he said it would be a two-hour trip each way. Maybe a larger boat?

“A little faster than a boat. Since you only have one day left, I’d rather not spend it traveling.” We pulled up to a light and he turned back to me the second he could. A tingle shot through my body at how his eyes pierced mine.

I really had no chance against this man, and I couldn’t even say I resented it.

We spent a few minutes in silence, watching the city flash by outside the window. Tuscan gold buildings, modern glass towers, and cobblestone streets made for a next level of charm that I couldn’t imagine leaving tomorrow. I could spend a year in this city and never get tired of it.

“You seem quieter today,” he said. “Is everything all right?”

“Just stayed up too late.” I’d curled my hair this morning despite knowing we’d end up in water at some point. Hopefully I looked more effortless-nice than trying-too-hard nice. “Tell me about your sister. I know barely anything about her except she’s going to school.”

“Right. Well, she thinks I’m a disappointment just like my mother does, but at least she still talks to me. So that’s a win.” He smiled wryly.

A win I didn’t share. I wouldn’t mind not talking to my sisters for a very long time. Let them experience the city without me, because I was just fine without them.

Twenty minutes later, we pulled up right next to a helicopter pad. Before I registered what was happening, Matteo was standing, holding my door open and offering his hand. I slid out of my seat, numb at the realization that Matteo was rich enough to rent a helicopter for us. Maybe he even owned it. The very thought made me dizzy.

His hand took mine and guided me around the car.

He didn’t let go.

Every sense was on high alert as we crossed the space between car and helicopter, my hand rigid in his soft, warm palm. He seemed completely at ease as we approached the door, which slid open to reveal a woman inside with the same dark hair and heavy eyebrows as Matteo.

“My sister, Vivi,” Matteo said. Vivi sat in the pilot’s seat wearing a pair of thick headphones. She looked to be about my age. “Vivi, this is Jillian.”

I should have acted cool, but I couldn’t help it. “You can fly a helicopter?” I asked her incredulously as I climbed inside. Between that and Matteo still holding my hand, everything seemed like a dream.

“Dad wouldn’t buy it for me unless I could fly it myself,” she explained. I loved her accent immediately—slightly more choppy than Matteo’s yet faster, more direct. “I studied in Naples and got my helicopter pilot license at seventeen.”

“Seventeen?” I’d barely gotten my driver’s license at seventeen. “You’re amazing!”

“I was frustrated to wait even that long. I started with airplanes, but those are too easy. I like a challenge.” She looked back at our entwined hands and a strange look crossed her face. “Looks like you do too.”

“Ready when you are.” Matteo’s voice was calm and easy.

My brain felt positively dizzy as we buckled ourselves in and the pulsing of the chopper began. Matteo broke contact only long enough to slide the harness over my chest and buckle it. His finger brushed my bare shoulder in the process, and I could have sworn his breath hitched ever so slightly before he leaned back into his own. The back seat barely fit the two of us, our legs pressed together so tightly that I practically sat on him.

I couldn’t say that I disliked the idea.

Whoa, honey, I told myself. This might be a good time to set some rules. It sounded like Mom’s voice.

As I opened my mouth to speak, the helicopter began to vibrate louder and the world filled with sound and wind. Matteo grabbed a pair of headphones and lifted them around my head. Then he adjusted the microphone in front of my chin before putting on his own set.

“Thanks for the ride, Vivi,” he said, his voice shouting slightly over the tumult of wind outside the now-closed door. I didn’t remember anyone closing it.

“I needed an excuse to get away from homework anyway.” She flipped a few things among the many gauges and adjusted a straight lever, almost a stick, jutting out in front of her. No steering wheel. I didn’t know why I expected one.

When we’d risen from the ground and the city of Rome disappeared behind us, I decided a little conversation would distract me from the weird feeling in my stomach. I couldn’t say which I feared more, the flying or Matteo’s fingers intertwined with mine.

“Matteo thinks you see him as a disappointment,” I said into my headset’s mic. “Is that true?”

Matteo stiffened, his hand gripping mine more tightly.

Vivi chuckled, still looking out the large windshield with her hand on the controls. “He’s always been too sensitive. The only person who has unrealistic expectations for Matteo is himself. But then, he’s always been dramatic too.”

“I prefer brooding.” I shot Matteo a grin. “Would you agree?”

“Broody like Batman,” she agreed. “But he’ll never admit it.”

“I am not broody,” Matteo growled.

She lifted a hand matter-of-factly. “I rest my case.”

“Funny,” he said. “What I want to know, Jillian, is how you managed to ditch your sisters for another day. Or is it the other way around?”

“The other way around, but I’m fine with it.”

He studied my face as if seeing right through my lie yet again. “Are you.”

“So you’re Matteo’s new friend,” Vivi called back to us. “Let’s hope you’re better than the last one. She was, what’s the word? Obnoxy?”

“Obnoxious,” I guessed. My stomach twisted a bit, thinking about Matteo dating other women, which of course he did. The “last one” only meant he wasn’t dating anyone now, right? But that also made me “the current one,” and I wasn’t sure what to think about that.

“Yes, exactly. It was nauseating, how she had control of him.”

“Vivi,” Matteo said, a warning in his voice.

“Come on. I never saw you lose your mind over a girl like that, before or since. At least you learned your lesson.”

My hand went limp in his, and I couldn’t look directly at him. “Was she so terrible? You haven’t mentioned your ex before.”

“That’s because she isn’t worth mentioning,” he said pointedly, eyeing his sister. “She’s married now. That was years ago.”

“What was her name?” I tried to pretend this conversation didn’t feel like steel through the gut.

Matteo didn’t answer, but Vivi looked smug. “Clara.”

“Ah.” I should have let it be, but my curiosity would not be dismissed. “Not a very Italian name. British?”

“American.”

I stared at her, then Matteo, whose gaze was riveted on the floor and full of a growing anger.

“American?” I asked softly.

“Fooled us all,” Vivi said. “She met Matteo at school in New York, a model who pretended to travel to Rome often for photo shoots, so perfect and pretty with her expensive camera and designer clothes. If I ever see her again . . . ” She muttered something in Italian that was probably not a compliment.

An American. After all this time, with Matteo teasing me for being an airheaded, uneducated American tourist, it turned out he’d once fallen for someone exactly like that.

“Are you dating anyone, Vivi?” I asked, desperately grasping for a change of subject.

Her expression grew stormy. “No, but I went on a terrible date last weekend. Did I tell you about him, Matteo? I should have left when fifteen minutes passed and he wasn’t there yet. And then, when he finally arrived, he spent the whole night peeking at his phone until I saw the name. . . ”

We spent the rest of the trip listening to Vivi talk about her tumultuous love life while we sat in silence. Matteo only looked out the window, his hands resting solidly on his thighs.