Roman Encounter

by Lily Zante

  Chapter 17

  Unraveling Gina. That’s what he felt he was doing. Christian scratched his chin and gave her a sidelong glance. They walked around the Via Condotti, passed all the designer shops and their big, shiny windows filled with stern-faced mannequins.

  The truth was, being with a woman and being friendly without the overtones of anything else, was refreshing. It was so different with Rachele. They tended not to have such deep conversations.

  Nor was it expected when what they had wasn’t a relationship.

  It was fast and simple, dirty and quick, and, he remembered, shaking his head, they were supposed to meet tomorrow. He wasn’t sure he wanted to anymore.

  “Why are you shaking your head?” she asked.

  “I wasn’t.”

  “You were.”

  “I don’t remember.” He took a sip of water from his bottle.

  “You don’t remember why you were shaking your head?”

  “No.” Hell no. That kind of stuff nobody needed to know about.

  She didn’t look as if she believed him. “It looked as if were thinking of something that you don’t want me to know about.”

  His mouth set in a hard line. Damn it if she wasn’t giving him back the same psycho-analysis. “I was thinking about you.” In a roundabout way.

  “Me?” A flush crept up her cheeks. “What—what about me?”

  He tried to think of something that sounded believable. “That you don’t seem too bothered about finding a new job.”

  “I’ve got a couple of months to find something.”

  “It can take more than a couple of months.” He should know.

  “I’m not in any hurry.”

  Interesting. She didn’t look as if she particularly wanted to move on.

  “I hope you get the dream job next week,” she said, after the awkwardness had passed.

  “I’ll let you know.”

  “How?”

  “You have another course booked for next month.”

  “You checked?”

  He rolled his eyes. “No, the course administrator told me.” And then he had gone and checked for himself anyway and discovered that he would be teaching that module. The idea pleased him. “They check to see which of the candidates have booked follow up courses, so that we can streamline our follow-up letters. You’ve probably received them. The ones where we try to get you back for the next course, and the next one, and the next one.”

  “I noticed. That’s why I’m back. I did the fundamentals course last time and you kept bombarding me with information about the other courses you offer.”

  “I’m not bombarding you,” he said, quick to put her right. “That’s the company upselling.”

  “So there’s a chance that when I come back next month, if I come back, you might not be here?”

  He hadn’t considered that. By then he would know about his job, and might even have moved on.

  “If you come back? Have you found a job?”

  “No, not yet. I’ve barely started looking. But I don’t think it’s fair to Nico if I keep coming back for courses when I’m leaving.”

  “He’s already told you he wants you to get all your training.”

  “I still feel bad.”

  “You’re too…” he paused.

  “Too?”

  “Too worried about things that you needn’t worry about,” he said, and hoped it made sense. “Your boss obviously believes in you, whether you stay with the company or not.”

  “What does your boyfriend think?” he asked, out of the blue, trying a different tact.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “No?”

  “No. Why, what does your girlfriend think of your interview? Does she share your enthusiasm?”

  He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t have a girlfriend, I already told you.” He wondered if she was trying to catch him in a lie.

  “So you did.” Something about the way she said it, told him she didn’t believe him. “Where next?” He was anxious not to discuss this particular topic any further.

  “Trastavere?”

  “You’ll need to get on my Vespa,” he warned her. She looked worried. “It’s not far and I’ll bring you back, don’t worry.”

  She seemed to be thinking about it. “Can’t we get a bus or something? Or a tram?”

  “The public transport is worse than bad, and this is the quickest way to get about.” Maybe she was worried about something else? “Are you afraid to get on my scooter?”

  “Afraid?” She lifted her chin, showing defiance. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Alright.” But he noticed that she was wearing a skirt and it wouldn’t do. He couldn’t risk her falling off and getting hurt. As it was, he was going to have to go real slow, be real careful.

  “We’ll have to walk back to work,” he told her. “My Vespa’s parked there.”

  A short while later they were standing next to his Vespa 946. It was reliable, and not a bad ride, but he’d wanted the Emporio Armani edition except that it cost more. He ended up settling for this instead. Maybe a higher salary would allow him to eventually buy the Vespa Sprint, a sportier and sharper version. But if he moved away, he might not need a Vespa at all.

  “Here,” he said, taking out his large shower-proof over-trousers from the storage box. “Put these on.” He’d had the foresight to pack these and an extra helmet today.

  Her eyes widened more than he’d ever seen them. A ‘But’ floated around her half-open lips. “You’re wearing a skirt,” he explained.

  “I’ll sit side-saddle,” she protested, her cheeks fully ablaze now.

  He stepped closer to her and held out the trousers. “You’re going to have to sit properly, with your legs astride.” He watched her face turn red. “And hold on real tight. The roads here are gridlocked, don’t worry, we’ll zip through them in no time, this ordeal of yours will be over before you know it.” He was laughing inside. She looked as if she was going to throw up.

  “Do you still want to ride?” He needed to make sure. “Because if you’re scared…”

  “I’m not scared.” She slipped on the trousers which floated around her small frame. He dropped to his knees and folded them over at the bottom.

  “They might look ridiculous,” he said, looking up at her, “but at least you’ll be safe.” He got up and handed her his spare helmet. “Now, remember. Tuck your feet into the sides and don’t let your legs float around because the other cars and scooters weave real close. Hold onto me real tight. The roads here are bad, there are lots of potholes, and the cobbled streets can be slippery.” The color had drained from her face. “But I’ll get you there in one piece.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay to do this? Because we don’t have to if you don’t want.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “I’ll be gentle with you, I promise.” He couldn’t help but smile at that, especially when she put her helmet on. He got on, and started the engine, then beckoned for her to get on. She held on loosely, and he knew one bump and she’d be off.

  “Tighter,” he roared, so that she would hear his muffled voice above the noise of the engine.

  And she did, slowly at first, and then for dear life as he sped through the streets. He was being extra careful as they snaked and twisted through the stationary cars and trucks all stuck in gridlocked hell.

  The feel of her behind him, the way her arms gripped around his waist, was comforting. More than comforting.

  Chapter 18

  Her heart still rocked violently against her rib cage but it was nothing compared to the throbbing between her legs.

  A good few moments had passed since she had climbed off the scooter and removed her helmet, shaking her hair out.

  “How was it?”

  How was it? What could she tell him? Titillating. In a word. It had been scenic, and breathtaking, zipping through the traffic, weaving in a
nd out deftly, the wind on her face, leaving the monuments, and people and traffic behind them. But holding onto him? Sitting behind Christian, like that, with her arms around him, and her chest pressed against his back.

  The ride had left her with a pulsating sensation between her legs, and she wasn’t sure if it was the effects of the ride, or the way he was looking at her, but she could barely think coherently. She’d been on a scooter before, a long time ago, and it had never been thrilling in the least.

  “Gina?”

  He stood before her, and it was all too much. Christian was all too much, staring at her with that too-sexy-for-his-own-good expression. Had he always looked like this? Or had she been too caught up in other things to notice before?

  “It was good.” Good? That ride was nothing short of phenomenal.

  “That’s what they all say.” Another cocky grin, another innuendo hit. They were around the back, she assumed, of his apartment complex.

  She shimmied out of her oversized trousers, folded them neatly and handed them to him. At the same time, she wondered what she was doing here outside Christian’s apartment. Lately, she’d been doing a lot of things she ordinarily wouldn’t have and it was as thrilling as it was unfamiliar. This, now, being here also felt a little crazy.

  “I need to leave my briefcase upstairs,” he said. “And get out of these sweaty clothes.”

  Her mouth fell open.

  “Did you want to come up?”

  “Uh…” She was having difficulty formulating a sentence and looked around, because it was easier to look around than to face him right at this moment. Especially with the crazy notion that his apartment was up there somewhere, and that he wanted to get out of his clothes. It probably wasn’t a good idea to dwell on that, either.

  “Or you can wait here, it’s up to you. I won’t be long.”

  “I’ll wait around the front.” Where she could see the river; it seemed less busy here, medieval and charming. She was in love with it already and was eager to get out there and explore the town.

  “I won’t be long.”

  He disappeared, leaving her to breathe easier. She walked out to the front of the apartment complex and saw the gelateria full of people. This place had a village-like vibe to it, and dotted along the length of the street were restaurants and bars and cafes. It was like Rome but without the grime and pollution, without the noise and chaos. Trastavere had a refined elegance about it.

  She took a few steps along the street, admiring the crumbling buildings with their faded paintwork, and the clothes hanging out to dry in balconies. She walked along further, enjoying the walk and soaking up the majestic ambiance of the place. Returning to the point where Christian had left her, she gazed out at the river and enjoyed the serene view, and the peace and quiet.

  Until her skin prickled, and she turned around, purely by chance and saw him walking towards her. It seemed to be happening in slow motion, the way he walked towards her wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a white t-shirt, he took her breath away. With his dark shades and closely shaved head, he was a picture of brazen sexiness, and her insides dissolved into a puddle.

  Her body stilled, and she ran a hand across her neck, forcing herself to remain calm and unaffected as he neared her, but the pretense required a Herculean effort.

  Out of his business suit, Christian looked more built; taller and larger than life. He seemed to be looking directly at her, but she couldn’t tell behind those dark shades that framed his face.

  Had she done the right thing by coming here? Because something was going on, something deep down inside her body, something she was trying hard to resist, except that resistance was futile, in the wake of an attraction as strong as the one she now felt. It was as if an electric current sizzled in the space between them.

  The worst thing about it? He had no idea of the effect he was having on her.

  She felt bland and ordinary in her work clothes and wished she had made more of an effort today instead of wearing her usual skirt, jacket and blouse. It wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t made plans to spend her evenings like this with someone like him.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “You’re looking very…” Her mind blanked. Totally. It was as if a whiteboard eraser had just wiped over her prefrontal cortex.

  “Casual?” he offered.

  The word ‘sexy’ perched on the edge of her mouth. “Casual,” she agreed.

  “I would have had a shower, but I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

  The thought he had unknowingly slipped inside her head, pushed her body temperature up by a few degrees. She wished she’d bought a new pair of shades to replace the ones she’d lost when her handbag was stolen. She desperately needed something to shield her eyes with. If she wasn’t careful, the wanton desire she suddenly felt for him would be easy enough for a seasoned pro like Christian to see.

  He had the advantage because, behind those shades, it was impossible to decipher his expression. “How about we get some gelato?”

  The thought of watching him eat ice-cream again would be too much for her to handle in her current state.

  “Maybe later?”

  “Later? You know, we could get something to eat around here,” he suggested. “There are a lot of great trattorias.”

  It would be dinner time soon. “Why not?”

  Why not had served her well so far.

  They walked around the picturesque district, along the labyrinthine streets and glittering mosaics, observing the many religious shrines that brightened up the streets. Her mother would have approved.

  He asked if she wanted to see the Basilica di Santa Maria with its mosaics, but she shuddered at the idea of it. So instead they strolled around the piazza and watched the street entertainers perform, while eager diners flocked to the pizzerias and trattorias. She absorbed the electric vibe and found herself at ease.

  Later, he took her to his favorite eating place, a family-run trattoria that spilled out onto the piazza and they watched the world go by, and saw the sun sink lower, as they sat opposite one another across a small wrought iron table adorned with a bloom of bougainvillea.

  She realized that she would miss this once it was over, and it was going to be over far sooner than she wanted. She realized that being in Rome, being here, being away, was the thing she had been most in need of. Time to herself, time to be, do and have whatever she wanted; time to spend as she pleased, doing the things she wanted, not because she had to do them. She was tired of the constant rushing around in Verona. Tired of always being at her mother’s beck and call. Tired of putting herself last only to find that, at the end of the day, there was nothing more left for her, no time to think of where she was going and how she was going to get there.

  No time to be still.

  This escape had been good for her.

  “I could sit here all evening,” she murmured.

  “I’ll sit here with you.”

  His words brought a smile to her face, and ideas blossomed in her heart. She would like nothing more than to have him here beside her.

  “What’s your typical weekend in Verona like?” he asked.

  “Busy.” She turned her head and watched a young couple walk past holding hands.

  “Busy,” he parroted. “Another mysterious one word answer.” It wasn’t that he sounded tense, but there was something closed in his expression as he stared at her. “Busy how?”

  She swallowed. “Busy, as in…chores to do, errands to run. The weekend stuff to do, I’m sure you have the same, groceries to buy, the house to clean. Although you probably don’t clean, maybe you have a cleaning lady.”

  “I clean because I can’t afford to pay anyone to do it, and because my place is small. I pride myself on being a tidy person, too.”

  “But you get my drift. You probably have lots of errands to run and friends to visit.” He kept insisting he didn’t have a girlfriend, and yet her gut told her that those phone calls he had taken away from her proved
otherwise. There was no way Christian could be single.

  “I go to the gym a lot,” he said, not elaborating on his circle of friends, much to her disappointment. “And it’s easy enough to get on my scooter and go places.”

  “It sounds nice,” she murmured, comparing it to her own weekends. Being away and enjoying her free time the way she had, made her more determined to move out and rent her own place.

  Time had slipped by faster than she had ever thought possible, not just the week in Rome, but this evening. It was almost 10, and she didn’t know where the time had gone. She didn’t want to go home yet, but knew she needed to start making a move soon. The thought of going back on his scooter made her stomach flutter.

  “I’ll get a taxi back,” she suggested.

  He sat up and leaned across the table. “I’ll zip you back. It won’t take long on the scooter.”

  She squirmed in her seat, her body starting to heat up at the idea of another blissful encounter with her arms and legs wrapped around him. “I don’t want to put you out.”

  “You’re not. “You’re looking a little hot,” he commented. She would have picked up the menu and fanned her hot face, because she was feeling hot and flustered all of a sudden. “An ice-cream would be great,” she said. It would cool her down, at least. “And then maybe we could go for a walk along the river.” The falling sun glistened on the Tiber, giving it a golden sheen.

  “We can do that,” he said, getting up. “But I have the best views from my balcony.”

  “You have a balcony?”

  “Yes. The view from the fifth floor is spectacular. You can take a look, if you want,” he told her as they walked across the piazza to the gelateria.

  She would have said no. Refused it outright, but the evening had already worked out so well. Gone so smoothly, everything about it, about Trastavere, and Christian taking the time to show her it, made her feel special. Not many people made her feel that way.

  “I would like that.”