Forever Rome (Forever #1)

by Brittney Sahin

  Will and I exchanged looks, and he grimaced.

  “Travis, darling. I have Maggie and Will here in my office.” Her eyes darted back to me. “Finally,” she added with snarky flair.

  Travis’s voice came on the line. “How are things going? Your texts have been rather vague.” He was directing his attention to me instead of Francesca. Points for my boss. Of course, now I had to answer to him.

  I straightened in my seat and rubbed a hand over my face. What was I supposed to say? “Marco’s a little resistant to the idea of the story, especially since this is his first interview.” It would have been nice to know that before I came to Italy. I could have approached him differently. And yet, Marco surprised everyone, myself included, by giving in to me so fast, which still had my mind reeling. “Marco’s slowly opening up, but he doesn’t like to talk about himself all that much. And a lot of what he says is off the books.”

  Francesca eyed my notebook, which peeked out of my unzipped purse. I had the urge to shove it deeper inside and out of sight, worried she’d want a look at my notes. Nope. There were way too many personal thoughts inside it. Not to mention many off the record comments.

  “Marco said he doesn’t want my office involved.” Francesca’s voice was eerily smooth.

  “What do you mean?” Travis asked.

  I thought it was obvious. “Marco only wants Will and me on the article. And he doesn’t want the story to include his reason for quitting.”

  “What?” Francesca and Travis shouted the word in unison.

  “How can we write a retirement piece without knowing his reason for quitting?” Francesca threw her hands in the air before covering her face with one hand.

  The woman did have a point on that one. “I know it sounds strange, but right now it’s this or nothing. We can’t force him to talk. But, I haven’t given up hope, yet. He may come around.”

  “Let us do our jobs. We’ve got this covered.” Will’s voice was firm and confident.

  “This is madness.” Francesca popped up to her feet and crossed her arms.

  She looked like a cartoon caricature or some evil villain in a 1950s flick. Cruella de Vil, maybe. Was she for real? I smirked at the thought of 101 Dalmatians running rampant in her office. Perhaps taking a nice dump on her expensive heels.

  Travis interrupted my thoughts by releasing a few exaggerated breaths. The man would need an oxygen tank by the end of this story. “Any chance he won’t quit?”

  Francesca came to a pause behind her desk and looked at me, waiting for my answer.

  “I don’t think so.” My purse was vibrating, and since we were on the phone with Travis, it clearly wasn’t him texting me. It would be completely rude of me to dig into my purse for my phone, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Well, you still have twelve days until the first game of the season. You never know,” Travis said.

  I unzipped my purse, keeping my phone safe inside, but peeked down at the message. My lips quirked at the edges. The text was from Marco.

  I have a charity event this weekend. Can you come? My days are not the same when you are not in them.

  I quickly pushed the phone back into my purse when I realized I’d missed whatever conversation had transpired while I was gaping at Marco’s message. Confusion bopped inside me like a guy riding the bull at a rodeo. I was ready to get bucked off and call it quits. If a few words from Marco had me at a loss—again—I was in so much trouble.

  But why the mixed messages? Even he had said it was bad timing for us to do whatever it was we had almost done at his house the other night.

  “Fine. It’s agreed.”

  I looked up at Francesca. What was agreed?

  “If I am not satisfied with your story, then I will have one of my writers take over.” Gone was any form of pleasantry from this woman.

  “I thought this article was for our magazine. Why would Francesca have the final say?” It’s not like I was that excited about the article, but who did she think she was?

  “Maggie.” My name was a warning from my editor’s tongue. What was the deal with these two?

  Francesca crossed her arms, staring me down. “We would like him to continue to play for Roma, but if he does not, I want the dirt. I want to know why he quit, and I also want to know what is going on between him and Sophia Rossi. Get the story or I will.”

  Was I working for a sports magazine or a tabloid? Pissed off, I rose to my feet. The woman didn’t merit the curse words that came to mind. She deserved something worse.

  “We should go,” Will’s voice sabotaged the insults that were about to parade through my brain. He was on his feet, glaring at me with wide eyes, angling his head at the door.

  Once we were out of the office and stepping into the elevator, I turned to face him. “What just happened?”

  “Hell if I know.” He grunted.

  I fished back into my purse for my phone.

  “Who are you texting?” Will asked as I typed my message.

  Marco, my day has been horrible. I’m looking forward to seeing you at the art gallery tomorrow.

  My thumb hovered over the blue send button for a moment, and I turned away from Will. “No one important.” I gulped and deleted my message.

  Will and I would love to go to the charity event. Thank you for asking.

  ***

  Why was I so nervous? Okay, scratch that. I knew the answer.

  I studied myself in the full-length mirror in my hotel room and touched my abdomen with both hands. I didn’t want to compare myself to Sophia Rossi. I was never that girl—the kind of woman who rated herself based on other women in the room; I was secure and comfortable in my skin. But I’d also never been in a hurry to catch a guy’s attention. I always had big dreams and ambitions, and I worried most men would be a roadblock to my career.

  I wanted a family someday, sure, but I wanted it with a man who hit all the marks for me. Most people wanted a good-looking person, regardless of what they said, and I had known a lot of women who touted ‘humor’ as numero uno, but come on! I hadn’t had a friend yet who chose humor over abs of steel and a tight ass.

  Lies. Lies. Lies. And a few Hallmark phrases.

  People wanted to paint a pretty picture of what they thought they were supposed to feel and say.

  But me? The truth?

  Smart and sophisticated were high on the list, as well as a man who valued my ambitions. But, oh God, I also wanted a man who made me want to let loose—to let my hair down, rip my clothes off, and be free. In the most literal sense.

  I had no idea what was happening to me. A strange sexual being had apparently been caged inside of me, and I’d been unaware.

  But ever since Marco’s fingers danced artfully across my skin on the balcony of his home, I’d been a total and complete wreck. I had tried to lie to myself, to make myself believe I could resume business as usual, but whatever damn light he had turned on inside of me was not about to blink out.

  And as much as I told myself to stop thinking about him, I couldn’t help it. It was like telling someone not to think about the color red. Bam—suddenly that’s all they can see.

  Marco was my red. And all of Rome was now painted his shade.

  Writing a story about him, sneaking glimpses of Marco playing football with the kids on my phone, Will showing me some of the images he snapped of the two of us—I was beginning to lose my mind.

  I stared at the drain in the sink, visualizing my career going down it if I didn’t gain some control over myself and soon.

  I lifted my gaze to the mirror. “You can do this, Maggie. Focus.” The incessant whining and protests from my body to follow through with my newfound sexual feelings had to be flushed. I let my mind clear, picturing the mountains in New York, the beach—something to calm my nerves. But nothing helped.

  “A game-winning touchdown. A two-point conversion following the play to win the Super Bowl,” I murmured to myself, trying my hand at something I knew would normally comfort
me.

  Of course, the Super Bowl didn’t appeal to me that much now that Travis had tried to bribe me with it in exchange for manipulating Marco.

  Marco. Yup, he was right back front and center again. And there didn’t seem to be a damn thing I could do about it.

  I pinched my cheeks, adding some color to my cheekbones. I touched my straight nose, checking for shine, and rolled my tongue over my teeth and faked a smile at myself in the mirror. I’d just have to get through tonight with my brain fumbling in the dark.

  I paired my bright dress with a clear lip gloss, so I didn’t look too over the top.

  “Maggie?” Will was rapping on my door in the hall.

  I frowned at myself, hesitating to answer, unsure if I wanted to be seen in this getup. I was more of a khakis and standard-necked T-shirts kind of girl. My shoes were usually two inches high at most and either black or beige. No leopard print, or hot pink for me.

  I eyed the bags on my bed, wondering if I’d been crazy to rack up my credit card on the clothes I’d bought on my impulse shopping spree in Rome today. Would I ever wear the outfits when I returned to the plain Jane me in New York?

  “Yo. Mags!”

  “Coming!” I swung the door open a few seconds later, and Will’s hand went to his jaw. He dragged his palm down his throat before his fingers tapped at his chest.

  “Damn, baby girl.” He shook his head, his eyes lighting.

  “What?” I stepped out into the hall after grabbing my purse and closed the door.

  “Since when do you dress like that?” He blew out a loud whistle as we walked to the set of elevators.

  “You’re acting like I’m wearing a corset or some kinky leather get-up.” I hit the call button. Although he had a point. My dress was so snug I wondered if I could eat or drink and still be able to maintain that thing we’re all supposed to be able to do—breathe. The silky lining beneath the red lace fabric of the V-neck hugged my curves. The dress had long sleeves, but fell several inches above my knees, and the material had scalloped edges. But it was the back of the dress that made me nervous. Well. The lack of a back, I should say, was bolder than normal for me.

  “Do I need to get my whip?” I teased.

  He nudged me in the arm. “I’m going to have to get big brother on your ass.”

  “What are you talking about?” A smirk met my lips as we entered the empty elevator.

  “When guys, um,” he waved his hand down, then back up in front of me, “hit on you tonight, or act in some obscene caveman-like manner, I’ll have to protect you.”

  I laughed. “Protect me? Aren’t you the one always pushing me to let loose and have some fun?”

  “Damn girl. Not that much fun!”

  “Oh my God.” I pressed the button ten after we’d began our descent, jabbing at it a few times. “I’m going back to change.”

  He touched my arm, lowering it back to my side. “I’m playing around. You look great. But Marco might lose his mind.”

  “Why would you say that?” My voice was panicked, and I cringed.

  Will furrowed his brows. “Are we still playing that game where you act like there’s nothing going on between you and Marco?” The elevator doors chimed open, and he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone as we stepped out. He began tapping at his iPhone, then thrust it into my hands.

  I blinked a few times as I studied the image on Will’s phone. “What the hell!” I zoomed in on the image and my lips parted. “This is not what it looks like. We weren’t even doing anything,” I protested, remembering the man who’d been taking pictures when Marco and I had been at the Trevi Fountain last week after he’d played ball with the kids at the park.

  “Marco has you up against him, and his hands are on you—his mouth is an inch from yours.” Will grabbed his phone and stuffed it back into the pocket of his black slacks.

  My hand flew to my face. If only Will knew what we did later that night. “Where’d you find that?” I couldn’t think straight.

  “A friend texted me the link.”

  “A friend?” My hands fell like dead weight.

  “Alright . . .” Will held his hands up in the air, a smile on his lips. “Sean tracks the media on Marco. He saw it and asked me about it.”

  “And what’d you say?” I shrieked.

  “I said I didn’t know if there was anything going on.”

  “Did Sean sound upset?” Oh God. Had Sophia Rossi seen this? What if they were getting back together, and I screwed it up for them? Or worse—they were already together, and she thought he cheated.

  It was nothing. Nothing happened, though.

  Well, not until later, but even then we stopped.

  “I’m going to be sick.” I found a nearby seat in the lobby of the hotel. “I think I want to skip the gallery tonight.”

  Will folded his arms and stared down at me. “Oh, hell no. We’re going!”

  I gasped. “How can I go? People might think—”

  “Who cares? You won’t understand if people whisper about you anyway. They’ll be speaking Italian.”

  “Oh, funny.” I half-grunted and stood back up. I wished I wasn’t in such a damn tight dress—I was going to need to do a hell of a lot of breathing tonight.

  “Come on.” Will reached for my hand.

  “Fine.” I rolled my eyes. “But don’t mention Marco and me in the same sentence again. There is a him. And there is a me. There is no—I repeat, no—him and me.” No matter how much my body wanted there to be.

  “Yup. Sure.” He saluted me.

  “How’s the woman you’ve been seeing?” I asked, trying to maneuver to a new topic. “Maria?”

  “She’s, well . . . I think I’m in trouble.”

  “What? Why?”

  “She’s falling for me.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “No! We have less than two weeks here, and then I’ll never see her again. I don’t want to break her heart.”

  We got into the back of a taxi. “Looks like it’s too late.”

  “We barely know each other. Why is it that women fall for a man in, like, two minutes? You and your damn biological clocks.” He shot me a sideways grin, and I playfully slapped him on the chest.

  “We’re here,” Will announced after we’d pulled up in front of a three-story glass building ten minutes later. The lights of the surrounding buildings reflected off the glass, offering a soft yellow glow. The modern building was wedged between older buildings, making it look like it didn’t belong. One thing I loved about Rome was the blend of old and new. While walking in a boutique earlier today, I had stepped on an area of the floor made of see-through glass, and down below my feet were ancient ruins. While dress shopping, I had been standing over history.

  Rome was kind of spectacular like that.

  Will’s hand was on my elbow, pulling me back to the reality of what—or I should say whom—I was about to face.

  My stomach grumbled as Will stepped back and held the door open for me. It was a little past nine thirty at night, and I hadn’t eaten since lunch. I had been too nervous about seeing Marco.

  Art hung on the walls of the large room, and a swell of people moved around within. Waiters handed out hors d'oeuvres and, as much as I wanted to snatch something, I ignored the hunger and glanced around for Lori or Sean.

  Although I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see Sean.

  “I didn’t expect this kind of art, to be honest.” Will stopped in front of a painting. “It’s pretty badass.”

  A splash of bright and bold watercolors in graphic art form gave the image an almost mind blowing quality. The picture was of a woman with her back to us, walking a tightrope across a blur of swirling colors and a checkered pattern. I had never thought myself great at interpreting art, but the picture drew my eye. It evoked emotions inside of me that I didn’t normally feel. Was I that woman, walking a fine line?

  Before my mind could wander too deeply, I saw the next picture.

&n
bsp; I took a step back. “Holy shit.” My hand went to my mouth, and I gasped.

  “Wow.” Will’s voice was barely audible to me as I studied the painting.

  “That’s . . . them, right?” I whispered, but became dead silent as other people crowded behind me. A murmur of Italian surrounded us, giving me the chills as I studied the image of what had to be Sophia Rossi and Marco Valenti, wrapped in an embrace, floating in the sky together. Every shade of blue hugged and lifted the couple among the clouds.

  “That was supposed to be a wedding gift,” Lori said in my ear.

  I swallowed, turned around, and my eyes steadied on her blue ones.

  “Now I’ll be auctioning it at the charity event this weekend.”

  The charity event . . . I still needed to get the details about it from Marco.

  “Your work is stunning,” I finally said, thankful my voice was working. I was two seconds from claiming laryngitis to explain my silence. “Maybe they’ll get back together, or already are back together,” I fished.

  Lori only grimaced.

  Huh. She had painted a beautiful image of what could only be interpreted as a couple in love, and yet she didn’t seem to want them together.

  “It’s good to see you again,” Will said, touching Lori’s shoulder. “Congratulations on the opening. You have a great crowd.”

  “Yes. Yes. Congratulations.” Jeez, I’d forgotten to say that. Marco had me off balance.

  “Thank you.” Lori’s cheeks blossomed pink, and she ran her hands down her silky black dress.

  “You did a bloody incredible job.”

  I stole a glimpse of the British woman now standing next to Lori. They looked so similar I had to assume they were related. She nudged Lori in the side before crossing her arms, and stared at the painting before us.

  “You didn’t have to come all the way here. I know how hard it is for you to get away.” Lori hugged the woman and took a step back. “Thank you, though.” Lori’s lips slanted up into a shy smile. “Maggie. Will. This is my sister, Alexa.”

  Both Will and I shook Alexa’s hand and exchanged a few words. “So, what is that you do?” I asked Alexa.

  Alexa’s mouth opened for a moment, but Lori waved a hand in front of her sister’s face. “She’s kind of a badass for—” Lori cut herself off as Alexa narrowed her eyes Lori’s direction.