by Ana Huang
I got the call during an otherwise perfect moment, curled up in my bed, eating cookies and cream ice cream and watching my Gossip Girl DVD.
It was just getting to one of my favorite parts, the scene where Blair told Chuck she loved him, when my phone rang.
“Hello?” I said, my voice muffled by a mouthful of Ben & Jerry’s sugary sweetness.
“Hey, Maya, it’s me.”
I sat up a bit straighter, worried by her tone of voice. “Adri? Is something wrong? Did something happen to Zack?”
“No, he’s just as big a pain in the butt as he usually is—“
“Don’t speak ill of the...ill! I’m a sick man, Adri! A very, very sick man!” I heard Zack shout in the background, before he let out a series of very unconvincing coughs.
I shook my head, wondering if he knew how wrong that sounded.
Adriana let out a heavy sigh. “Anyway, Zack’s fine, as you can probably tell. I’m just calling because, well, we have a bit of a problem with the sleepover plan.”
My eyes widened and I set my bowl of ice cream on my nightstand as I gripped the phone tighter with one hand, panic coursing through me. “What—what kind of problem?” I squeaked. I could not have a babysitter! “My parents leave tomorrow!”
The other girl cleared her throat. “It turns out my mom decided it would be a good idea to renovate the entire sleeping wing of our house without telling us first, and they start tomorrow. I’m really sorry, Maya, but I don’t think you can stay here for the next two weeks. I wish you could, but we’re all living in the guesthouse right now, which hasn’t been touched in ages and it’s a bit cramped…”
My face fell. “What? Adri, what am I going to tell my parents? I can’t have a babysitter,” I moaned, flopping down on my bed and burying my face in my pillow in despair. “Can’t I just sleep on the floor or something? I promise, you won’t even know I’m there!”
“Maya, you are not sleeping on the floor for two weeks,” she scolded.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to think of a last-ditch solution. “Maybe I can call Venice and ask if I can stay at hers…”
“Didn’t you say her mom’s vegetarian?” Adriana asked quickly.
I groaned. Right. Venice’s ex-model mom was adamantly anti-meat and refused to let their chef make anything that used to move, while I was strictly carnivorous. I won’t be able to survive on tofu and wheatgrass juice alone for half a month.
I shuddered at the thought.
“Well, what am I supposed to do?” I whined, aware of how childish I sounded.
“That’s where you’re in luck, because I’ve arranged for you to stay at someone else’s house,” Adriana chirped, sounding chipper again.
“Who?” I frowned, racking my brain as to who it could possibly be. It couldn’t be Parker, he was part of the reason my parents wanted me to have a babysitter in the first place. Carlo had been so MIA lately, Adriana probably hasn’t even had a chance to talk to him yet. Which left…
I sucked in a breath. Oh no. Oh, no no no no no. She was not going to say—
“Roman!” Adriana exclaimed happily. “I asked him and agreed! Which means you guys will be housemates for the next two weeks!”
* * *
“This is not a good idea,” I whimpered, cowering in my seat as Zack’s Porsche glided past the giant iron gates that guarded the Fiori estate.
“Stop hiding in your seat, it’s not like we’re sending you off to prison.” Adriana sounded exasperated. “It’ll be fine. It’s just for two weeks. Fourteen days. You can do this. Besides, I thought you two were getting along better.”
“Better. I never said we were getting along.” I stared glumly out the window, but despite my nervousness, I couldn’t help but be awed all over again by the breathtakingly landscaped grounds.
It was like paradise here. The grass stretched out in all directions like a lush emerald carpet, dotted with majestic trees, a koi pond, a rock garden, and bubbling marble fountains that put those in Rome to shame. I could see a small army of landscapers in the distance, pruning the seventy-foot-tall hedges that bordered the entire estate.
“I can’t believe he even agreed to this.” I frowned at Adriana. “Did you blackmail him or something?”
She smirked. “No. I just asked nicely. And guess what? He said yes, no questions asked.”
“Really?” I was a bit suspicious, but who could blame me? I was pretty sure Roman hated me. Ok, maybe not hated, but he certainly didn’t like me very much.
I sighed as Zack’s car finally pulled up in front of the main house. Carlo was missing in action—again. Parker had a family thing—again. I had no idea what was up with those two, and no one seemed willing to clue me in.
I climbed out of the car and was about to get my lone suitcase from the trunk when I realized a tall, silver-haired man was already rolling it towards the house.
Actually, “house” was an understatement. I had been here once before, but last time I was too busy trying not to murder Roman to really appreciate the massive four-story mansion in front of me. No, not mansion—palace. Seriously, it put Versailles to shame. Its red tile roof was set on various levels, giving it a rambling effect, and there were so many windows and balconies I got dizzy just looking at them. A flight of marble steps, guarded at the base by two huge stone lions, led to a set of gleaming French doors so tall I had to crane my neck to take them in. Expensive-looking urns overflowing with greenery and flowers flanked the entrance, in front of which Roman currently stood.
I gulped when I saw him. He was barefoot and dressed down in a pair of gray sweatpants and white men’s tank that showed off his arms. I couldn’t help but stare. I’ve never seen him without some sort of jacket on, but boy, he should stop wearing those so often, because his arms were just…just…
Trying my best not to drool, I snapped out of it and started to follow the silver-haired man, who was probably the butler or something. Only, I think I only imagined walking, because when Adriana nudged me—hard—I realized I was still standing in the exact same spot.
“Easy there, tiger,” she teased, her blue eyes sparkling mischievously. “You have plenty of time to ogle him later.”
I snapped my mouth shut, my cheeks heating up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” My voice was remarkably steady.
“Parker’s not here.”
Adriana smirked, a knowing look on her face. “Right. Parker.”
I bit my lip. Maybe Carlo was right. Maybe she did know we weren’t really dating. Of course, with my grandmother gone, it wasn’t a big deal anymore, but I didn’t relish having to tell everyone we’d been lying to them the whole time.
“My-My, come on!” Zack was bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. “I can’t wait to show you around!” He grabbed my arm and started pulling me to the door.
“I thought this was Roman’s house,” I pointed out, trying not to trip on the steps.
“Yeah, but we’re here so often we know it inside out. And now that you’re living here, we get to see you even more than usual!”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it, Zack was just too cute. Besides, I was glad he’d gotten over whatever he had Wednesday night, though his recovery was suspiciously quick, if you ask me.
“It’s nice to see some people are so chipper in the morning,” Roman grumbled when we reached him.
Now that I was closer, I could see that he’d probably just woken up. His eyes were heavy-lidded and sleepy, there was a pillow crease on his cheek, and his tousled hair was sticking up in all directions. He looked unusually and utterly adorable.
The minute the thought entered my head, I shook it out. Come on, this is Roman Fiori you’re talking about! I silently berated myself. It’s not like he’s a puppy. He’s more like…like a flesh-eating vulture. Or something.
“Good morning to you too,” Adriana said pointedly, coming up behind me. “Didn’t get enough beauty sleep last night?”
Roman just glared at her, c
ompletely ignoring me. Well, fine then.
“Hey, is Maya staying in the Greek suite?” Zack asked excitedly.
The violet-eyed boy barely had time to nod before the blond was off again, dragging me with him. “You’re going to love your room, My-My!” he shouted over his shoulder, pulling me into the elevator. Of course the Fioris’ had an elevator.
Roman and Adriana barely made it in time before the doors closed. Zack jabbed the “3” button repeatedly.
“No matter how many times you press that, it’s not going to go any faster,” Roman sighed.
“Says who?”
I grinned at Zack’s childishness. “Yeah, says who?” I echoed, unable to resist teasing Roman a bit again.
“Don’t you start with me,” he warned. “Remember you’re staying in my house for two weeks. I run things here.”
I smirked. “Whatever you say,” I agreed sweetly.
The doors opened again, and Zack grabbed my hand to pull me out. I caught a disgruntled look on Roman’s face before I stumbled down the seemingly endless hallway, until I arrived in front of a pair of gold-and-white double doors.
“Go ahead, open it,” Zack encouraged, his eyes shining.
I hesitated, then slowly twisted the knob. I stepped inside, then froze. Blinked. Blinked again. Holy. Crap. If the grounds had been paradise, then this was heaven, only better.
Everything was white and gold, from the gigantic four-poster canopy bed to the intricately carved marble furniture to the floor-to-ceiling drapes that covered the bay windows. The floor was covered with a wall-to-wall white Aubusson carpet that felt soft as clouds (note to self: never eat in this room), and the walls were a pale cream with gorgeous gold flowers delicately hand-stenciled on them.
“Maya Lindberg, welcome to the Greek suite,” Zack announced proudly, like he was showing off his own house.
For the next hour, he showed me around my suite. Yes, it really took that long, because it was huge. In addition to the bedroom, there were two walk-in closets, each the size of Manhattan studio apartments; a private bathroom, complete with a glass-doored waterfall shower, swimming-pool-size sunken bathtub, and a Jacuzzi; a balcony that had its own dining area and spectacular views of the Fioris’ lake and gardens; a study nook with a platinum-plated iMac that had the Apple logo in diamonds on top, and finally, a den that consisted of a fully stocked mini fridge, 60” flat-screen TV that came out of the ground with the press of a button, and a monster sound system.
“I don’t know that much about the gadgetry and stuff though,” Zack said at the end, collapsing in a sofa in the den. “Roman will explain that to you.”
I snuck a peek at where the heir himself was leaning against the wall, a bored look on his face. “I’ll do that later,” he muttered. He rubbed the back of his neck. “So, uh, you like your new room?”
I widened my eyes and nodded vigorously, the words getting stuck in my throat. The others laughed at the look on my face. “I love it,” I finally managed, embarrassed.
“Well, I’m glad this all worked out then.” Adriana clapped once, getting our attention. “I propose a nice little dinner party tonight to celebrate!”
“There’s nothing much to celebrate,” I sad, a bit confused.
“Of course there is! Your parents just left you alone for two weeks, which means you can do whatever you want.” Adriana smiled slyly. “Who knows, maybe you and Parker don’t even have to hit that one-month mark to—“
“Why don’t you go and call him and Carlo then?” Roman interrupted, pushing himself off the wall. “See if they can come.”
“Sure. You go tell your chefs the plan,” Adriana agreed with an oddly smug expression on her face.
“Fine,” Roman muttered.
I looked at him, surprised he was being so agreeable. Our eyes met for the briefest second, before he quickly averted his. I felt strangely disappointed. He had barely talked to me all morning.
I hadn’t expected a welcoming party or anything, but after Wednesday night, I expected a bit more…well, friendliness. Looks like that wasn’t going to happen, although I still couldn’t quite believe he’d agreed to me living with him.
Adriana’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Gosh, Carlo seriously needs to answer his phone,” she complained. “This is an emergency!”
I laughed. Of course she would consider a last-minute get-together an emergency. I hoped Carlo could make it though. I missed his company.
* * *
Six hours later, I was in the Fioris’ restaurant-sized kitchen, my mouth watering from the delicious smells that enveloped me. The chefs—yes, plural—were doing a fantastic job of whipping up a last-minute dinner for six. In fact, they were doing such a good job I couldn’t help but sneak a shrimp from the tray of shrimp cocktails on the counter. Oh, god, that was good. If I kept eating like this for two weeks, my parents won’t even recognize me when they came back.
“You haven’t even been here for a day and you’re already stealing stuff, huh?”
I snapped my head up to see Roman stroll in, a smirk on his face. He’d changed into a casual button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans. He looked even hotter than this morning.
I wanted to kick myself. When did I start going gaga over his looks like every other girl on the planet?
They probably put something in the shrimp…
“I’m hungry,” I defended myself.
He brushed past me and opened a cabinet, pulling out a box of Pop-Tarts. I tried to ignore the way his arm muscles flexed when he did that, but failed miserably.
“You know dinner’s going to be served in less than an hour, right?”
To my surprise, Roman hopped up and sat on the counter, nearly knocking over the shrimp cocktails. A chef hurried over to pull them out the way.
“An hour’s way too long,” I complained, eyeing his Pop-Tarts.
He took a bite out of his and raised his eyebrows. “Want one?” He held out the box.
Wow, he was actually acting like a normal human being. “Yeah, tha—“ I stopped and scowled when he pulled the box back at the last minute.
Never mind, then.
“That’s mean,” I huffed.
“Never said it wasn’t.” Roman smirked, finishing off his Pop-Tart.
I frowned. For someone so refined in public, he was kind of a pig in his own house. “I never figured you for a Pop-Tart person. Don’t you usually snack on caviar or the heads of the people you annoy to death or something?”
“Usually, but they get stale after a while,” he responded blithely, tearing open another package.
I stared at him, shocked he didn’t respond with his usual snarky sarcasm. “D-did you just make a joke?” I stuttered.
Roman stared at me blankly. “No, I was serious.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Who knew he had a sense of humor? He was pretty good at keeping a straight face too. “Nice one.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Roman hopped off the counter and tossed the box of Pop-Tarts at me.
I let out a yelp, managing to grasp it just in time before it hit the floor.
“Knock yourself out,” he called over his shoulder. “Just don’t spoil your dinner, or Anthony will be furious. You don’t want to make him mad.”
I glanced over at where the head chef was methodically slicing vegetables. I gulped when I saw him shred a cucumber into a million different slices in less than thirty seconds, then quickly put the Pop-Tart box back into the cabinet and ran after Roman.
“Hey! Stop leaving me behind, I’ve already gotten lost five times,” I said, a bit annoyed.
Zack and Adriana had gone home earlier but were coming back for dinner. I wasn’t sure if Parker and Carlo would be able to make it though.
Roman did look at me as he continued to wind his way through the mansion’s seemingly endless halls. “You seemed to have found the kitchen ok.”
“I just have a good sense of smell,” I mutter
ed. “It would’ve been nice if you could’ve showed me around though. Just a little bit.”
He stopped and looked at me with yet another smirk. “That desperate to spend more time with me, huh?”
My mouth flopped open at his audacity, which only caused his smirk to grow more. “Wh—no!” I resisted the urge to stamp my foot childishly. “I would just like to be able to get around this house without getting lost for the next two weeks!”
Roman rolled his eyes. “Chill out, I’ll show you around later. Besides, there’s a map in your room.”
Yeah, too bad I couldn’t read maps. I mean, no one uses them anymore now that Google Maps exist.
