I wasn’t ready for goodbye. This time was different, I felt it, and I know he did too. It resonated in the silence that fell between us, after I thanked him for walking me home and wished him good luck with everything, thinking that ‘everything’ was general enough to cover any area of his life, which I still knew nothing about. No doubt Maria would finish this tour and then go through all the same motions again with a new bunch of horny tourists vying to find love or a fling in the Eternal City.

With my belated bonding with my group and a new city to conquer, I could make one of two decisions: I could walk inside and bid Marcello goodbye, or I could voice the less reasonable, more terrifying notion that was screaming in my head, one that would usually require a lot more alcohol for me to even contemplate.

‘Umm, so did you want to come in …’

Don’t say nightcap, Sammi, don’t say nightcap—that’s so lame.

I had a brain freeze; oh, God, what was I asking? To come in and have a mocktail? For all he knew, I was still bunk buddies with six other people; yeah, that sounded like an attractive proposition.

Marcello’s mouth curved as he watched me squirm. He crossed his arms and waited for me to fumble my way into a deeper hole. Finally, he saved me, clearing his throat and asking, ‘Don’t you have to get up early tomorrow?’

Great, now he was looking for a way out. He’s not interested, Sammi, take a hint!

I shrugged. ‘I had a lot of rest today.’

Something changed in his expression, as if those simple words held a deeper meaning; maybe they did. Now the ball was in his court, but I wasn’t going to beg.

I decided to give him one last chance. In a tone that sounded far more flippant than I felt, I said, ‘I just thought I would give you the grand tour of my new room.’

That got his attention. ‘New room?’

I laughed. ‘I am not sure if I’ve been upgraded or downgraded, but it’s all mine.’ I held out my arms like it was a blessing from the gods.

Marcello broke into a broad smile, stepping forward. ‘It’s not a linen cupboard, is it?’

‘I’ll let you be the judge of that,’ I said, walking through reception, ever aware of him following. Gabriello looked up from his paper at the front desk, adjusting his spectacles and nodding to us.

‘Buona notte, Gabriello,’ I sing-songed.

He shook his head. Oh, the things he must have seen, I thought.

‘Buona notte, Sammi,’ he sighed.

We had only made our way up the first lot of steps before Gabriello called out once more. ‘Oh, Sammi, before you go.’

We stopped midway, turning to see Gabriello at the base of the stairs.

‘We have washed all the linen in your room and replaced the mattress as you requested.’

My smile fell away, watching Gabriello wink and double back to the front desk. I wanted to die.

Marcello slowly made his way up the steps until he stood beside me, smirking. ‘Expecting company, were you?’ His brows rose in question.

I pointed to my face. ‘Bugs! I had bed bugs,’ I said, a bit too loudly, for once grateful there was evidence of the foul creatures on my face.

Marcello laughed, moving past me on the stairs. ‘A likely story,’ he said.

I glared at his back, shaking my head and following in his footsteps.

‘This one.’ I pointed.

Marcello moved to stand to the side of the door while I rummaged through my bag for the key, a key that appeared to have been swallowed up in the abyss. Biting the side of my mouth, the more I searched, the more flustered I got—and the more aware I became of Marcello, standing there watching, and waiting for me to open the door. Mercifully I found it in a side pocket; blowing out a breath and offering a small smile, I slid in the key and unlocked my cell door. Pushing it open and turning on the light, I saw the bed—my new bed—had been freshly made, and there was a lingering smell of bug spray in the air.

‘Ah, home, crap home,’ I sighed, pulling off my bag and throwing it on top of the chair next to the door. Marcello stepped in, his serious gaze taking in the small, windowless room, and closed the door behind him.

‘Wow, this is …’

‘Charming, quaint, cosy?’

‘Awful, this is really awful.’

I laughed, because I had learned the first time I had stepped into this room that if you didn’t laugh you cried; seeing as I hadn’t been able to find the funny side to it, I had done exactly that for most of the afternoon. I sat down on my bed-bug mattress and cried. Now, thanks to the clean sheets, the fact that I didn’t have to worry about other people waking me up with their body gases, snoring and squeaky bed springs, and the happy knowledge that I only had to endure one more night in this rat-hole, made it easier for me to snigger at the depressingly low quality of my accommodation. I also felt strangely alive, thanks to my jaw-droppingly gorgeous companion, despite the fact that he made the room feel even smaller than it already was. I couldn’t exactly offer him a drink, or even turn on a TV or radio for background noise. I was now painfully aware that there wasn’t actually anything to do in here … aside from the obvious. We both stared at the freshly made bed.

‘Well, we could always break it in,’ I joked, but the speed with which Marcello’s head spun around caused the laughter to die in my throat. Bad joke, BAD joke.

I detected the hint of a smile as he slowly peeled off his dinner jacket, throwing it over the chair on top of my bag.

‘Anything to get me into your bed, huh?’

Okay, that was it. I was no longer speaking about anything other than the weather—my mouth was obviously too big and too unfiltered for decent conversation. As charming and gorgeous and attentive as he had been, I still knew nothing about this man—who was, oh, God, sitting on the edge of my bed, unbuttoning and rolling up his cuffs. I mean, I knew what bloody Jodie’s childhood dreams were, for God’s sake; how did I know nothing, not one single thing, about the man who was on my bed?

In an effort to restore some of my dignity, I moved his jacket and my bag aside to sit opposite him in the chair.

Marcello curved his brow. ‘So far away?’

I tilted my head. ‘I tell you what, I’ll scoot my chair closer with every question you answer.’

Marcello’s face turned dark. Clearly he didn’t like the sound of those rules, which made me all the more eager to ask. What was he hiding?

‘Deal?’

He gave me a slow nod.

Bingo!

‘What’s your name, your full name?’

‘Marcello Lorenzo Bambozzi.’

Excellent.

I slid my chair forward an inch; Marcello folded his arms as if he found my tiny little movement annoying.

‘How old are you?’

‘Ventisei.’

I knew enough to know that was twenty-six in English.

I slid my chair closer. ‘All answers in English, please.’

He held up his hands. ‘Scusa.’

As small as the room was, I was still out of arm’s reach and now the questions really mattered: what did I want to know?

‘How do you know Maria?’

‘We grew up together.’

I nodded. ‘Childhood sweethearts?’

Marcello laughed, shaking his head and crooking his finger. ‘That’s two moves.’

A girl could try.

I was getting closer now; if he reached out he could touch my knees. I thought carefully about my last few questions.

‘Today, when you were talking with Maria, what did she have to think about?’

It was a stupid question, a question that pushed him too far and was none of my business. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he got up and grabbed his coat. But instead he sighed contemplatively and looked at the distance between us, weighing up the pros and cons of answering.

‘We are going into business together—well, trying to.’

Damn. He had answered the question but it left more unanswered questions rolling around inside my head. I begrudgingly scooted forward, knowing that I had one more question to ask, at best.

Make it count, Sammi.

I looked at Marcello, straight in his eyes, because I wanted to see how they would change when I asked him my next question.

‘Last night, when you kissed me and then walked away, was it because you regretted it?’

Something flashed in Marcello’s eyes alright: sheer disbelief. His eyes searched my face as if he expected me to tell him I was joking, but I was deadly serious. He didn’t answer; instead, he stared at me for a long moment and, before I could warn him that I wasn’t moving an inch until he answered, he grabbed the arms of my chair and dragged me towards him. The jolt was so unexpected that I yelped. My breathing rapidly increased at finding my mouth so near his as his intense, dark eyes bored into mine.

He shook his head. ‘No, mi dispiace niente,’ he whispered against my mouth.

I glowered at him, close to losing it as I warred between wanting to taste his lips and needing to remain in control.

‘I said, in English.’

A wolfish smile spread across Marcello’s face. ‘No, I regret nothing,’ he said, leaning in and kissing me as if there was no tomorrow. And, for us, there wouldn’t be—there was only now.