I curl up on my side and pick apart every encounter with Gianfranco. Dancing with me and then disappearing was so weird. Perhaps the rumors are true, and he has gone crazy. I flip on my back with a sigh. Although he did nothing crazy leading up to that last moment we were together. All night, he was perfect. And the energy between us… I could die and go to heaven or hell—preferably heaven—because tonight, I experienced attraction as I’ve never felt it.

I close my eyes to run through the night’s events one more time, starting from the moment he walked onto the terrace. I intended to go all the way until when Gianfranco strangely bowed out on his dinner guests, but I fall asleep before reaching the end.

On Monday morning, Elsa shows up in my office, asking to hear all about the dinner. Since I’ve replayed the story so many times, the events of the night flow from my memory like wine from an uncorked bottle.

“Then he does like you?”

I tilt my head curiously. “Is that what you got out of that story?”

“That is how you told it.”

“Humph.” I look off thoughtfully. “That’s what I thought too, but I don’t know. I sort of think he was just using me to appease himself. I doubt I’ll ever hear from him again.”

Elsa studies me scrupulously.

“What?” I say, already antsy about her probing eyes.

“Not all men will use you, Liza. You are a beautiful woman on the inside and out. You are smart, engaging, and exciting. Only a fool will not see your worth.”

I fall back in my seat with a sigh and steeple my hands before me. “Then that means John and Salvatore are fools.”

“No, they are rats. Not even fools.”

And to solidify her claim, I tell her all about Salvatore’s behavior that night.

Elsa throws her head back. “Aye yai yai, and you will now stay away from him?”

I dust my hands off. “Salvatore is a mistake of the past.”

“That is good.” She stands. “Now, we have so many interview requests that you will turn them away and not the other way.”

I smile. “Around.”

Elsa grimaces as if she’s confused.

“The other way around. You forgot to say around.”

She rolls her eyes. “I will let you have that.” She winks. “One day you will shed your inner American, and then what need will we have to argue?”

I grin at her. “There will be no need.”

We chuckle.

“Happy hunting for interviews,” she says.

I give her a thumbs-up, and she rolls her eyes again. We’ve had a whole debate about that gesture before. I told her it’s a positive one, but she wishes Americans would stop doing it.

“Oh,” she says before disappearing completely, “we should start taping the interviews as early as tomorrow. Let’s not lose traction.”

I show her a thumbs-up with my other hand. She rolls her eyes again, so I blow her a kiss.

“Thank you for being who you are,” I say.

She blows me a kiss. “Il bacio mi piace.”

“I like the kiss too.”

We smile at each other again before she goes back to her desk to run the station.

All day long, I book interviews, making sure they’re estates that I already have tons of research for. I book the baroness of fashion Nina Ricci’s home in Naples, and Penelope Hughs’s place. Penelope’s estate is extra special because she has a rental cottage the size of a large home in America.

Since I have one estate with a rental property, I book another, the Castillo di Alessandro, which is owned by an American oil baron. I have my assistant, Clara, go through my research notes and compile a list of estates with a rental. I think we can use that angle to make the show even more appealing to tourists and countrymen alike.

For the next two weeks, I’m in fifth gear. I get up early, kiss Aiden good-bye while he’s asleep, and head out. On some days, we drive hours to get to Naples, Tuscany, and other cities looking to increase tourism, and we spend up to five hours taping each tour and interview. By the time we make it back to the station, it’s around six o’clock. Thankfully, working all hours of the night isn’t the norm in Italy. So we drop off the van, upload the video to the editing bay, and let Alessandro work his magic. I’m home to have dinner and play with Aiden before he goes to bed.

I’ve being going so fast that I let myself forget all about Gianfranco. I mean, why would he want me when he has Maria? She’s so beautiful, and as a visual artist, that must be what he appreciates in a woman.

Regardless, it’s Wednesday of week three since dinner at Gianfranco’s house. That’s how I mark my life these days—pre and post dinner at Gianfranco’s. I think it’s because I feel something changed in me that night. Perhaps because I made the choice to dump a man who was bad for me. Jeez, it was so liberating to tell Salvatore to go to hell.

I’ve been watching the video of the last interview I did, and I rub my tired eyes. Tomorrow is giorno di riposo here at the station, and even though I’m happy with my work, I can sure use the day of rest. I’m so tired that my body is shaking. Yesterday, I taped my fourteenth interview in three weeks, and our show only airs twice a week, two fourteen-minute segments per show. That means I have at least four weeks’ worth of content all cued up and ready to go. The show goes on hiatus for four months after that, and during the time we’re off, the government tourism agency will determine whether to extend our grant.

I shut off my computer and take my purse out of my desk drawer. My desk phone rings, and since it’s from Giulia, the receptionist, I answer.

“Ciao, Giulia.”

“Ciao. You have a call from Juanita Smith.”

I jerk, surprised. “Sure, put her through.”

“Allora,” Giulia says.

I wait a second. “Hello, Juanita,” I say as soon as the call goes through.

“That’s right, we’re two American girls. We can say hello!”

I smile. “Yes, we can. It’s so strange hearing from you. Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine, darling. Listen, I tracked you down for one reason and one reason only. I want you to come to my masquerade party. It’s Saturday at il colosseo di mare.”

“Oh,” I say, impressed by the picturesque venue along the sea.

“Can you come?”

I think about the time I’ll lose with Aiden on Saturday night. “What time?”

“Nine thirty until sunrise!” she sings.

That’s perfect. Aiden will be in bed by then. “I guess I can go.”

“Come, and this time don’t bring a date. Instead, wear the sexiest gown you can find and a mask.”

I smile. “Okay, will do.”

“And… Gianfranco will be there.”

“Oh?” I say, even more intrigued than I was a second ago.

“Yes, and he’ll be waiting for you. Until then, darling.” She hangs up.

My mouth is caught open. I didn’t have anything to say, but I’m nervous about the possibility—no, the high probability—of seeing Gianfranco again.