by C. De Melo
I admired his perfectly cut Valentino suit. “Good afternoon, Rodolfo.”
“I trust you had a pleasant flight?” he asked politely.
“Very pleasant, thank you.”
Rodolfo pushed some computer keys before placing a rectangular metal plate on the counter. It was called an encoder and it was the latest in hotel security.
“Please place your right hand flatly upon the surface, Mrs. Adams.”
I obediently placed my hand, palm down, onto the metal plate. The tiny light in the plate’s corner went from red to green, then beeped. He handed me an electronic room key.
“You’re all set, Mrs. Adams,” he said before placing the encoder behind the counter. “I’m sure you will find the room to your liking. If there is anything you need, please feel free to call me.”
“Thank you, Rodolfo.”
Rodolfo signaled for the bellhop to show me to my room. We followed the young man into the elevator and quietly rode to the top floor. There was another encoder panel on the wall just outside the door leading to the Penthouse Suite. I placed my hand on it, just as I had at the front desk and then swiped my key. A green light went on causing the door to unlock and open. The bodyguards followed me into the suite and Drew placed the bags by an antique dresser while Bill checked the bathroom, the closet and under the bed.
“All clear. We’ll be right next door if you need us, Mrs. Adams,” Bill said.
“I’ll be fine, gentlemen,” I assured. “Why don’t you and Drew take the night off and have some fun?”
Bill shook his head. “We have our orders, Mrs. Adams. I’m sorry if you find our company unpleasant. We promise to be discreet and stay as far from you as safely possible.”
“It’s nothing personal, Bill. My husband’s paranoia is to blame,” I assured. “I’ll alert you when I’m ready to go.”
“Very good, Mrs. Adams,” Bill said with a nod.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” I said in dismissal.
They hesitated and then (to my relief) left me alone. It felt wonderful to be by myself. For a minute there I thought they were going to stand guard in the bathroom as I took a shower! I wouldn’t put it past my husband to give them such an order. I grimaced as I contemplated the lack of privacy I’d be forced to endure during my trip. Sighing, I got up and walked onto the small balcony to enjoy the view. The late afternoon sun was a fiery ball hanging low on the horizon. I leaned on the metal railing and breathed in the air. The beautiful domes of the city, including the awesome dome of St. Peter’s basilica, looked dreamy in the hazy glow of twilight. It was so romantic… my mind began to wander and the image of Lance became clear in my head. I straightened immediately at the thought.
Shouldn’t you be thinking of Michael?
Why should this romantic scenery make me think of Lance? I could easily picture him wearing a sheer linen shirt opened just enough to reveal his muscular chest, his hair hanging loose, his warm smile…
Stop.
A shiver worked its way from the base of my spine all the way up to my head. I felt like an ungrateful traitor, a terrible person. Michael was generous, kind, protective…how could I possibly fantasize about his brother after he’s been so good to me?
Could it be because you’re falling for Lance?
I cursed the little voice in my head. I was too afraid to answer that question. I left the balcony in the hope that a hot shower would bring me back to my senses. Lance canceled our lunch on Monday, and despite knowing how important it was to me, never bothered to reschedule. In fact, he never called me as promised on Thursday, not even to wish me a good trip. The last person I should be thinking about is Lance Adams!
I turned my attention to the beautiful furnishings in my room. The suite was richly decorated in late nineteenth century Italian Liberty style, but it was the bathroom that was really impressive. Gorgeous pink-veined white marble covered the floor, walls and bathtub. The expensive brass faucets gleamed. At the sight of the luxurious tub, I opted for a bath instead of a shower. There was a basket containing several complimentary beauty products and I fished through it until I found sweet-smelling bath oil. I turned on the tap and poured the oil into the stream of hot water.
I got out of my travel clothes and put on the white terry guest robe that was hanging behind the door. Next, I left the bathroom to fetch the small travel case that contained my personal care items. As I walked past the bed, I noticed a vase of long stemmed yellow roses on the bedside table. There was also a card, a box of expensive dark chocolates, a bottle of Brunello, and a set of crystal wine glasses. After pouring out some wine and popping a chocolate into my mouth, I opened the card:
Have a great time in Rome, princess.
Love, Michael
This unexpected, thoughtful gesture on the part of my husband made me feel twice as guilty for having fantasized about Lance. What was wrong with me? Not only was Michael an ideal husband- I owed him my life.
Well, maybe he should stop treating you like a child and start treating you like a woman. Besides, it’s not as if you two have a normal sex life, now is it? No wonder you fantasize about other men…
“Shut up,” I whispered aloud. That little voice in my head was really driving me nuts.
You know something isn’t right. You feel it in your gut. Why don’t you admit it to yourself?
With chocolates in one hand and wine in the other, I walked back into the bathroom and eased myself into the fragrant, hot water. I had a couple of hours before my meeting in the Piazza Navona and I intended to use them wisely.
***
Lance watched Zoë from the monitor in his room. The camera allotted him a full view of the room, the entrance door and the door leading into the bathroom. He smiled as he saw her dressed in a robe and carrying chocolates and a glass of wine. He couldn’t see inside the bathroom, but judging from the sound of the running water he assumed she was headed for a long bath. He would take the opportunity to shower and nap for a few minutes; he needed the sleep.
Zoë left the hotel wearing a flirty dress the color of ripe cherries and tossed her hair up into a casual twist. Bill and Drew followed at a discreet distance, dressed in casual clothing so as not to draw any unwanted attention.
Lance followed from across the street. Drew looked over his shoulder and made eye contact with him to make sure he was still behind them. As he continued walking down the cobblestoned streets, it was hard not to stare at Zoë. She looked as stylish and beautiful as the Roman women who graced the sidewalks and piazzas. The only difference was that her red hair and fair skin stood out in stark contrast against the black-haired, golden-skinned Italian women.
After covering the short distance from the hotel to the lively Piazza Navona, Bill and Drew slowed pace to maintain distance from Zoë. She walked past two of the three spectacular fountains and stopped at the third. She checked the name of the establishment and then scanned the rows of tables and chairs. Two women stood from a table and waved. Lance looked at the bodyguards who gave him an almost imperceptible nod. All was clear, all was safe. Lance turned his attention back to the women. Zoë approached their table.
***
“Zoë Adams?” said the older of the two women. She was tall, bleached blonde and dressed in a tasteful periwinkle blue suit with a pretty Hermes scarf tied around her neck. I guessed her to be in her mid-fifties.
I smiled and nodded. “You must be Mrs. Rosenberg.”
“Call me Barbara. This is my partner, Alicia Wu,” she said, indicating the attractive young Asian woman standing beside her in a classic black Prada dress.
I shook hands with both women.
“It is so nice to finally meet you,” Alicia said.
“It’s nice to meet both of you as well,” I retorted.
Barbara motioned for me to sit. Two empty espresso cups were waiting to be cleared on the table top.
“We flew in a couple of hours ago and needed a little pick-me-up before dinner,” she explained, indicating the cups. �
��Would you like to order something?”
“No, thank you,” I replied.
“I’m sure you’re familiar with Rome.” I nodded and she added, “This is Alicia’s first time here.”
I looked at Alicia. “You’re in for a pleasant surprise. Rome is magical.”
“I can see that,” Alicia agreed.
“The art, the architecture, the people, the wine, the food…it’s wonderful,” I said.
Barbara gathered her purse. “Speaking of food, are you hungry?”
I nodded. “I am, actually.”
“Shall we go to dinner? I’m sure you and I have much to discuss. Are you ready, Alicia?”
“Absolutely,” said Alicia.
After a few minutes of discussion, we settled on a well-known trattoria in Trastevere. The historic Jewish neighborhood was famous for its gastronomy. We got several looks from people as we entered through the door. I convinced the hostess to give us a quiet table in the back where we could discuss business. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Bill and Drew being seated at a table at the front. I risked a glance and caught Drew’s eye. He looked away immediately.
Since I was the only one who could speak Italian, I ordered for the three of us. We sipped red wine and munched on grassini as we waited for our food to arrive. Before long, various plates were set upon our table: lightly battered and fried artichokes, spaghetti carbonara, saltimbocca, and pasta all’amatriciana.
No one spoke for the first five minutes as we tasted a bit of everything. As dinner progressed and the wine flowed, I explained the benefits of the two galleries becoming sister companies on opposite coasts. Both the Ashford and the Rosenberg galleries represented the much acclaimed sculptor, Valencia, and other sought-after artists.
“Why not work together? Many of our clients travel to the west coast and we would refer you as our partner,” I pointed out.
“And vice versa,” Alicia interjected.
Barbara nodded. “It would make sense. I much prefer camaraderie to rivalry.”
“Nancy Ashford is really great to work with,” I said. “She is not only pleasant and personable, she has good business sense and a knack for choosing artwork that sells.”
Barbara regarded me with open curiosity. “You worked with her mother.”
“I did. Hillary Ashford was a lovely woman and had quite a head for business.”
I could see her doing the math in her head. According to the laws of Nature I should be close to Barbara’s age, and I was not. This fact was usually accompanied by a twinge of resentment on the part of the older person.
“I met Hillary only once, shortly before she died. She left a very good impression.”
“Well, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree,” I assured.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about Nancy’s proposal and I believe it could work,” Barbara said. She then added quickly, “Of course, I will only discuss the details of this merger with Nancy. No offense, dear.”
“None taken,” I assured.
Once the deal was potentially sealed, the discussion was closed.
As if on cue, Alicia changed the subject. “Where are you staying, Zoë?”
“By the Spanish Steps. How about you two?”
“Alicia and I decided to stay near the Vatican,” Barbara replied. “She likes to attend mass in the mornings.
Alicia shrugged. “There’s no better place to be if you’re a Catholic, right?”
“Right,” I agreed.
We finished our meal and Barbara insisted on paying the bill. The moment we vacated our table, Bill and Drew stood up, quickly paid their bill and walked outside. Bill lit up a cigarette and pretended he didn’t notice us as we walked past him.
“We should hail a cab,” Barbara suggested. “Walking here was delightful, but walking back on a full stomach is not so appealing. Especially in these shoes.”
I liked Barbara, she was a practical woman. There were several taxis parked in a row at a nearby taxi stand. We went to the first one and got inside. Bill and Drew entered the one directly behind us. Since Barbara and Alicia were so busy talking and looking around, they didn’t notice my bodyguards.
“It’s too early to head back to the hotel,” Barbara said. “Why don’t we walk around the Spanish Steps? If I recall, there are some fabulous boutiques in that neighborhood.”
“It’s the fashion district, but everything is closed at this hour,” I said.
“Can we go window shopping?” Alicia asked excitedly.
“I think that’s a good idea. It would help burn off some of our dinner before bed,” Barbara said.
The taxi let us off at the base of the Spanish Steps in Piazza di Spagna. To my relief, the taxi that had been following behind us stopped farther back by the fountain. Bill and Drew got out and remained in the distance, unseen and unheard.
The evening was balmy and mild. Small clusters of students were seated on the steps listening to three young musicians perform. Several people walked through the piazza and streets; lovers with hands entwined, couples pushing baby strollers, packs of young people giggling and eating gelato.
I paid the taxi fare and led my newfound companions down Via Condotti. Alicia looked from one fashion shop to the next with an expression akin to rapture. After about twenty minutes of strolling and stopping, she froze and pointed. Barbara and I peered into the shop window at a pair of hot pink high heels.
“Aren’t they divine?” Alicia asked.
They were a bit flashy, but I had to admit they were fabulous.
“Cute, but they’re too high for my taste,” Barbara said.
I smiled. “I think they’d look lovely on you, Alicia.”
“I agree,” said Barbara. Turning to me, she added, “The young can wear anything they want, can’t they? Especially when they’re beautiful like she is.”
“Very true,” I said.
Barbara looked back to Alicia, who was blushing. “You’ll have to remember the name of this store and come back when it’s open.”
Suddenly, a boy came running towards us and stopped in front of me. He knelt down and touched the hem of my dress, pressing it to his lips. I heard a shout and running footsteps coming down the street.
Oh no!
Bill ran to where we stood and I heard Barbara gasp in surprise as Alicia pulled her off to the side. He picked up the boy by the scruff of his neck as Drew ran forward and placed his body in front of mine. To my horror, Drew’s gun was aimed at the boy’s head. A woman screamed from across the street. Barbara and Alicia were frozen on the sidewalk, staring at the scene in wide-eyed terror.
“No, don’t!” I cried. “He’s only a child!”
Drew put the gun back in the holster while Bill frisked the boy and searched through his pockets. He found a pack of bubble gum and a small Swiss Army knife.
The boy said in rapid Italian, “I am sorry, signora…I only wanted to see for myself if you were real. I recognized you from the HV- you’re the lady who died and came back to life!”
“What is he saying?” Bill demanded, still roughing up the boy.
“You’re hurting him! Stop it!” I cried angrily.
I proceeded to translate what the boy had said and Bill calmed down, letting him go in the process. I squatted down to the child’s eye level and Drew flinched, ready to attack. I looked up at him and frowned.
Turning my attention back to the boy, I smiled. “What is your name?” I asked in Italian.
“Pietro,” the boy said, his big brown eyes wide with fear and excitement.
“I’m sorry if my bodyguards scared you.”
Pietro’s eyes wandered upward and settled on Bill’s steely face. He quickly looked back at me. “Are they going to kill me?” he whispered.
“No. They were only trying to protect me,” I assured.
The relief on the boy’s face was comical. “My big sister is a school teacher and she believes you are an angel. She prays to you sometimes,” he said excitedly.
This information disturbed me. I knew people viewed me as a miracle of science, but not as an object of worship. I tightened my hands around his little shoulders and said firmly, “Listen to me, Pietro. I’m not an angel. I’m a person just like you- do you understand?”
In a matter of months I had experienced one extreme view to another. If people could just settle somewhere in between, I’d be happy.
The boy was crossing himself. He looked genuinely frightened and ran off into the night. I stood and sighed. “Barbara, Alicia, these are my bodyguards Bill and Drew,” I said resignedly.
The women had to crane their necks to look up at the big men.
“Sorry, Mrs. Adams, but we can’t take any chances,” Bill said, already walking away.
Drew looked at us apologetically before following suit.
I looked at Barbara and Alicia. “I’m so sorry, ladies.”
“Does this sort of thing happen to you often?” Barbara asked.
“No,” I replied.
“You have bodyguards?” Alicia asked, amazed.
“No, I mean, not usually. My husband insisted they come along. This is my first international trip since my awakening,” I explained.
“He’s protective of you,” Barbara said.
When I nodded, Alicia added, “He must love you very much.”
“Yes,” I said, but it sounded sad to my own ears.
“Well, I can’t say I blame him after what happened to you on Good Morning USA,” Barbara pointed out. When I groaned in shame, she added, “Oh, don’t worry, honey. Who cares what those crazy people believe? I think you’re delightful.”
“Me too,” Alicia chimed in.
I smiled. “Thank you for understanding.”
“Well, I’ve had more than my fair share of excitement for one night,” Barbara announced. Turning to Alicia, she added, “I think we should head back to our hotel.”
Alicia looked disappointed, but nodded in agreement. Barbara called a taxi and I waited until it arrived before bidding them both a goodnight. As the taxi sped off, I walked towards the Spanish Steps. Bill and Drew were on the next corner already waiting for me. They flanked me as I walked past them and kept pace with me.
