Chapter 16

Beatrice

Today I spent the afternoon taking in some of the sights of the city and wandering around.

I visited a local market, bought some wares, explored the gardens close to the hotel, and took some gorgeous pictures of the canal.

A few of the shots turned out really beautiful.

Maybe I’ll get one framed for my living room at home.

Now I’m sitting at the desk in my hotel room, stretching my arms above my head and letting out a heavy sigh. I’ve been looking at my notes for over an hour, and I decide that I’ve been sitting at my desk long enough that I deserve a break.

I walk from the desk to the bed and flop down against the lush, comfortable mattress. A soft breeze comes through the window, and a smile appears on my face as I feel the cool air caress my skin.

It’s been such lovely weather for the trip, and today was no exception.

I sigh and turn my gaze towards the window, enjoying the gorgeous view of the cityscape as the sun outlines its silhouette in the sky.

What a trip this has been so far.

If someone would have said to me two years ago that I’d be traveling around the world with the President of the United States, documenting his every move, I would have laughed in their face and told them to lay off the Scotch.

I’ve met so many people; dignitaries, world leaders, and just yesterday, I met with the pope.

The freaking pope!

Yesterday’s chain of events was like my dream come true, and I can’t stop thinking about it.

We had a fantastic meeting with the pope, and then we were given our own private tour of St. Peter’s Basilica, the Papal Palace, and it was finished off with a tour of the Vatican’s secret archives.

I swear, I was like a kid in a candy store yesterday, and I’m still riding on that high today.

There was limited time, and if I was given the chance, I’d spend days there.

But alas, that obviously isn’t an option.

Exciting as yesterday was, I’m taking today for myself. Tonight is the Italian State Dinner, and the president and the rest of his staff will be there, so I plan to relax.

Well, as much relaxing as I can do, while I catch up on transcribing my notes, reviewing my recordings, and going over the other various briefings that I’ll need for the rest of the trip.

I’ll try to take in some more sightseeing this evening if I can—I am in Italy, after all.

I can’t very well be in one of the most beautiful countries in the world without seeing at least some of the city on my own.

I gaze back over to the desk, my unfinished work seemingly calling to me and mocking me from its folder.

The sooner I get it done, the sooner I can relax. Then, I can take the evening to center myself, so I can focus again.

Lately, I’ve been so hung up on Henry—and how much he distracts me from what I’m supposed to be doing. The second I am within ten yards of the man, my brain goes to mush, and I can’t form coherent sentences.

The fact that he still has that sort of effect on me even after all this time is worrisome, if not a bit sad.

I shake myself from my thoughts and sigh.

I’m a professional, dammit, and no man—president or not—will take that away from me.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at my door, and I turn towards it in confusion.

I didn’t order room service, and I’m certainly not expecting anyone. I made sure that the rest of the staff knew I was taking the night off to work in my room, so it’s likely that it’s not any of them.

I get up from the bed and stroll over calmly, getting ready to tell whoever it is that they’ve got the wrong room number and to visit the front desk for more information.

When I get to the door and swing it open, I’m greeted with nothing.

Well, not nothing, but certainly not a person. I lean out of the doorway and look down the hallway, not seeing a soul in sight, before I catch a glimpse of something at my feet.

I look down and there’s a box in the doorway with a small card attached to the front with a large gray silk bow, and my name written on the card.

I kneel down and pick it up. My brow furrows in confusion when I look around the hallway once again and see no one.

Who on earth sent me this, and why the hell would they leave it at the door and leave?

I bring the box inside and take it over to my bed. I set the box down and flip the card over.

My heart skips a beat, and my breath catches in my throat when I read the note attached:

Beatrice,

Tonight’s dinner plan was almost complete, but there was one thing that was missing to make it perfect—you.

I haven’t been able to get the image of you in that black dress out of my head since we had dinner months ago. That particular dress wasn’t formal enough for tonight, so instead, I had this sent over.

I can’t wait to see you light up the room.

From H.

My mind brings me back to the night when we had dinner together in the White House residence dining room, when I had just been hired. We spent the evening talking and chatting. I’d worn a black mid-length dress with gray pumps and matching gray earrings and a necklace.

It seems it left enough of an impression for him to remember what I was wearing. My heart flutters at the fact that he seemed to enjoy thinking about that evening as much as I do.

That, and he decided to not only invite me to tonight’s dinner, but to have a dress picked for me that has the same color scheme as our first dinner together.

A grin spreads across my face as I open the box up. I gasp as I throw the lid aside onto the bed.

Inside of the box is an absolutely stunning Valentino dinner gown. It’s in midnight black satin with a keyhole back and deep gray cross paneling across the bust. It’s sleeveless but not flashy, with a thick shoulder and conservative neckline.

I pull it out and sigh as my fingers caress the luxurious fabric as it spills out of the box. I hold it up against my frame. The top is fitted with an elegant empire waist, while the bottom half flows down like a waterfall, stopping just at floor level.

This seems to be exactly my size—how on earth would anyone know this?

Wait a second, Henry sent this for tonight, which means he wants me to attend the Italian State Dinner with him?

Oh, no.

Before I have a chance to react and think about this, I hear another knock at my door.

Not wanting to have another ding-dong-ditch situation on my hands, I quickly place the dress back into the box and jog over to my door, whipping it open as soon as my hand grips the handle.

I’m greeted by Hope, who has an amused look on her face as she glances at my firm grip on the handle, probably wondering why I opened the door with such haste.

“Oh, good, it arrived.”

She walks into my room without so much as a ‘hello’ or an explanation, and walks over to the dress, nodding.

“Um, Hope, care to tell me what this is all about?”

She chuckles at me and smirks.

“The State dinner! The president wants you to attend.”

I feel my blood pumping through my veins and my cheeks flush. I stammer and stutter, trying to come up with an excuse.

“What? You can’t be serious, Hope. I hadn’t planned on going to the dinner. In fact, I was told that I wouldn’t be attending. I wasn’t given an invitation, and I don’t have anything to wear.”

She looks at me like I have three heads and gestures to the dress that’s now strewn across my bed.

“That’s what the dress is for, Beatrice.”

She looks over to the pile of papers on my desk and then back to me, raising her brows.

“Anyway, I’ll need you to wrap up whatever you’re working on there, because hair and makeup will be here shortly. You’ll want to be showered and ready for them. We’re on sort of a tight schedule.”

Seriously? Not only is this dinner sprung on me, but I’ve got next to no time to get ready, and someone else is going to be doing my hair and makeup?

“Ugh, Hope, I don’t even have shoes to match this dress with me.”

Hope takes a quick look down at my feet, then back to the dress, and then starts texting on her phone, speaking to me as she’s leaving my room.

“It’s being handled. Get ready, I’ll see you soon.”

And just like that, she leaves my room and walks out like nothing out of the ordinary happened.

Part of me is stressed because I’ve got next to no time to get ready.

But the other part of me is happy, because I’m going to the Italian State Dinner—with Henry.

And he wants me there so bad, that he had a gown ordered and delivered to my room with a note.

If that doesn’t make a girl feel special, nothing will.

That part of me starts to drown out the stress, and I happily trot into my bathroom to get showered, anxious to get ready for my dinner with Henry.