Roman Encounter

by Lily Zante

  Clara placed her left hand on his right shoulder, and clasped his other hand tightly. He looked around and saw that everyone was doing the same, and followed suit, putting his right hand on her left shoulder and adopting her pose. It wasn’t too bad. He was moving, and to the music. But he still wanted to strangle Emilio.

  There was another song change, and this time everyone changed partners. He found himself suddenly hand in hand with Gina. They faced one another, and in that moment, caught up in the heat and rhythm and music, he forgot where he was and who he was, and moved his body in tune with hers. Copying the instructor’s movements, he pulled her towards him and she bumped up into his chest.

  “Sorry!” She giggled, then shook her head as if overcome by the dizziness. He went easier on her, and made sure not to twirl her around so fast again. Her face was flushed, her eyes sparkling. That reserve, the stiffness she’d had about her before, had dissolved.

  Clara had moved away towards another group of people but he and Gina danced together for a few more songs before they changed partners again and she disappeared again.

  The crowd around them seemed to swell as more and more people poured into the bar. Sweat dampened his back, and greased the collar of his shirt. He looked over to the table and saw that Lucas was still sitting there. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Emilio walking in and his body sighed with relief.

  Leaving the dance floor abruptly, Christian returned to the table. The two men talked standing up shouting into one another’s ears.

  “How was it?” Christian asked, eager to know what intel Emilio might have about the new sales vacancy.

  “I’ll update you tomorrow.” Emilio shouted. “It’s too goddamn loud in here.”

  Christian reached for his jacket and briefcase. Gina had followed him back to the table and he remembered that Emilio didn’t know who she was. “Gina Morsini,” he said, waving his hand at her.

  He leaned towards Gina’s ear. “This is Emilio, one of the trainers.” They both acknowledged one another. “I’m going,” he told her, feeling that it was only right he let her know, since he’d asked her along.

  She grabbed her jacket.

  “Why don’t you stay?” Emilio asked. Christian contemplated it briefly but already knew it would be difficult to hold a decent conversation here and as much as he needed to know what had transpired from his meeting with the sales team, he knew it would be better to wait until tomorrow.

  “I’ve got things to do.” Christian wanted to get the hell out. He tapped Lucas on the shoulder and gave him the thumbs up, pointing at Emilio to let him know his replacement had arrived. He looked for Clara on the dance floor but she seemed busy in conversation with a tall stranger over in the corner.

  When he finally made his way out of the heaving, sweaty bar, he saw Gina waiting outside, fanning her face. She had loosened a button on her blouse and her skin had a glossy sheen to it.

  Was she waiting for him?

  He hoped not. All he wanted to do was go home.

  “You should have stayed,” he told her, as the music reverberated around his ears.

  “I don’t know them.”

  “You and Lucas seem to be getting on well.”

  “He asked me to dance.”

  “I asked you to dance.”

  “No you didn’t.”

  Once again, he was taken aback. She was right. He hadn’t. She didn’t say anything, and he felt silly for sounding like a jealous boyfriend.

  “Tell me you didn’t have a good time,” he said, changing the subject.

  “I had a great time.”

  “It looked like you did.”

  “Thanks for asking me along.”

  “You’re welcome. I wasn’t sure at first, you looked like you didn’t want to be there.”

  “I’ve never been to a bar like that before.”

  “Never?”

  She shook her head, surprising him again.

  “What do you mean you’ve never been to a bar like that?”

  “With music, and dance classes.”

  “Huh.” He didn’t know what to say.

  “I don’t really go out much. I mean, not to those sorts of places.”

  Not to those sorts of places.

  He was intrigued. “What’s your idea of fun, Gina?” Surely, she didn’t sit at her desk all day planning projects

  She seemed pained by his questioning. “I spend a lot of time at work.”

  “I can believe that.”

  She looked up at him with a defiant expression. “But I handed in my resignation last week.”

  He widened his stance, spread his feet a little further apart as they stood facing one another on the cobbled street. “You did? Why?”

  “I’m not 100% sure. It’s everything and nothing.”

  He wondered why and then his stomach gurgled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten. “Do you…” he wasn’t sure whether to ask her, but he was hungry and all that dancing had stirred up an appetite. “Have you eaten?” he asked. “I know a good family run restaurant nearby.”

  She shook her head.

  “How about we get something quick to eat? I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”

  She seemed to be weighing it up.

  “Yes or no, Gina?”

  “Uh…yes.”

  “Are you fussed about where we go? There are plenty of pizza places around here.” A romantic meal for two wasn’t what he had in mind.

  Chapter 9

  He was asking if she wanted to go for something to eat. She hoped that was all he was asking her for.

  “Are you fussed where we go?” he asked. “There are plenty of pizza places around here.”

  The idea of sitting down with him over a meal seemed intimidating. It was all well and good hanging around him in a crowded bar, but what would the two of them have to talk about over a meal?

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You’re not sure you want Italian?” He grinned, as if he’d made a private joke. She didn’t find it funny. He obviously had to work at being civil. Still, it was late and she was hungry. The dancing had been so much fun! She could have easily stayed at the bar for longer but, for some reason, when Christian got ready to leave, she got up to leave as well.

  She had intended to get a takeout on her way back to the hotel, but now he was asking her if she wanted to get something with him. Going back seemed the sensible, more obvious choice. But, she was in Rome and, when in Rome... why not?

  “Can we get a slice of pizza to go?” she asked.

  “I think we can.”

  They walked along streets lined with bars and restaurants until he turned the corner and, all of a sudden, they found themselves in a small square. It was quieter here as she followed him to a small restaurant with rickety tables spilling out onto the street. Walking into the restaurant, she eyed the diners’ plates and her mouth began to water.

  She saw plates full of large brightly colored pizzas and mountains of salad. Bottles of wine stood silently and white porcelain vases carried a single blood-red rose.

  She could be easily persuaded to sit out here for the rest of the evening. She glanced over to find Christian in conversation with a slim and pretty young server with sculpted cheekbones. She tossed the thought away.

  He had forgotten about her already. She turned away, leaving Christian to flirt his way to dinner and pulled out her cell phone to check for missed calls and messages.

  “What are you having, Gina?” He walked over to her and handed her the menu. She quickly scanned through it and chose a ham and olive pizza, then gave her order to the server directly. When she got out her purse to pay, Christian objected. “I can get this.”

  But she didn’t want him to. “I can get it, too. I’ll put it on expenses.”

  He shrugged and she made her payment.

  They waited in line, him on his cell phone, and she on hers. Luckily, they didn’t have to wait too long for their pizzas.

  “How bi
g?” she exclaimed, when the server at last handed them each a large box of pizza.

  “I get that a lot.” Christian grinned, a big, cheesy grin.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Teenage humor doesn’t go down so well on a man in his…” She made a face as if she was contemplating how old he might be. “Thirties?”

  “Something like that.” He pulled at his collar and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said after a few moments of silence had fallen. “That joke was in poor taste. I shouldn’t have made it.”

  She wondered what she was doing walking the streets of Rome with a man she barely knew, and a man who seemed to sprinkle innuendo into his conversations the way most people sprinkled salt on their fries.

  Her hotel wasn’t too far from the center of Rome and she was beginning to think that it might be better for her to stick with her original plan; to go back and eat in her hotel room. At least she had food with her now.

  “I think I’ll go back to my hotel and have this there.”

  He stopped walking. “It won’t taste the same when it’s cold. You need to eat it hot. Let’s go to the Trevi fountain. It’s a few minutes’ walk away.”

  For a moment she was startled by the way he had completely disregarded her decision. But he had a point. The aroma of olives and ham wafted straight to her nose making her salivate.

  “The fountain would be nice.” It had been one of the places she wanted to visit.

  They walked through the ancient center, through narrow alleyways and labyrinthine cobbled streets that crawled with people, some deep in conversation, some transfixed in awe at the beauty and architecture of the surroundings.

  The sun seemed to dull down, and the sky watered to a silvery blue. They found a wall to rest their pizzas on while they stood and admired the fountain showing Neptune in a chariot pulled by two sea horses. The quiet gushing of water was soothing to hear in the background.

  She opened the box and took out a slice of pizza. The smell of tomatoes and ham made it impossible for her to eat slowly. She bit into a slice and almost swallowed it in one.

  The. Best. Pizza. Ever.

  She couldn’t help herself, and wolfed down the next slice, not caring how messily she ate or how fast. This wasn’t a time for her best table manners.

  Christian laughed. “What did I tell you? I was right, wasn’t I?”

  She made a motion with her hands as if doubting his words and when she had swallowed her mouthful, told him, “We have pizzas as good as these in Verona.”

  He shook his head, disbelieving. “You’re going to say that, but I don’t believe you.”

  “Then we’ll have to agree to disagree, or you’ll have to come to Verona and find out for yourself.”

  “I might just do that,” he answered.

  The conversation flowed between them again and maybe being out in the fresh air, sitting around the fountain and having good food, helped. They discussed the first day of the course, and the people on it, and how she was finding it.

  Everything about this evening was gorgeous. The food, the setting, even this man was not so difficult to be around anymore. She had to admit, accepting his offer had worked out well. If she had turned him down and spent the evening alone, as had been her original plan, it would have made for a normal, average evening and she was fed-up of normal and average, and settling for things.

  Stepping out of her comfort zone seemed to be working well for her.

  She asked him about Fordana and how long he had been there, and discovered that he was hoping to move into sales. She could see him there. He looked more like a salesman than a project management trainer. He asked about her job, and she told him about the Casa Adriana and how much she loved working there, and how each day was never the same as any other.

  “What made you resign?”

  “Just…” She shrugged. “Just things.”

  “What things?”

  “Work, and people and, you know how it is.”

  “You said you loved your job.”

  “I did, but I’ve been there a few years and it’s time to move on.” She hated questions, hated answering them and was always so much better at listening. “What about you? Why are you looking to move?”

  “Because I need more money.”

  “Need, or want?”

  He looked at her with a blank expression. “Need,” he said, then, “Want.” Then he frowned, as if he wasn’t sure. “What difference does it make? It’s the same thing.”

  “It’s not though. You need to eat and maybe you want caviar. You don’t need caviar, you just want it.”

  “I hate caviar.”

  She suppressed a snicker. “That’s not the point I’m trying to make.”

  “I need more money because I want more options.”

  “Sounds like you think having more money will give you more options.”

  He angled his head. “Having more money will give me more options. I’d be able to get a bigger apartment, I’d be able to travel more, and I’d even be able to buy a better Vespa. That’s why we work, isn’t it? That’s why I work.” He paused as if contemplating what he’d just said. “Why do you work?”

  She had to think about that for a while. She worked because it made her feel worthwhile and because she felt as if she was making a positive contribution to her guests by giving them a great stay. She’d do the same job even if it paid less, but she’d had this conversation before, and she figured that she was alone in her thinking. “I like what I do.”

  “Then why are you looking to move if you’re so happy where you are?” He wiped his hands on a napkin, and she saw that he had eaten his entire pizza.

  “I’m not that happy. I mean I love Nico and—”

  “Who’s Nico?”

  “The man who owns the hotel.”

  “You two are together?”

  “What? No!” She retorted, shocked that he could think such a thing. “If you’d let me finish. I love Nico and Ava—that’s his wife. I love the place. It’s a small family run hotel, but he’s expanding it. He recently built a new spa center and refurbished a hotel in Ravenna. They have other hotels around Italy; in fact they own the Cazale Roma. It’s on Via del Vantaggio.”

  He looked suitably impressed.

  “Have you never heard of the Cazales?” She was astonished to find that he hadn’t but then again, this wasn’t Verona, it was Rome and there was no reason for someone like Christian to know about the Cazale family.

  “I’ve heard of the Dolces, and Gabbanas, and the Armanis.”

  “I’m sure you have.” She gave him a sidelong glance. His suit was as sharp as the ones Nico wore. She studied him for a moment longer as if noticing for the first time how imposing he looked.

  No wonder so many women at the bar had eye-balled him. It had been hard to miss, the attention he’d received on the dance floor, when he had danced with her. He had been oblivious to it, or maybe he was used to it, but she wasn’t. She’d been conscious of everything, and even more so when he had taken her hands and reeled her closer to him. It had been hard not to get caught up in the music and the devil-may-care atmosphere that soaked into her skin. A recklessness had gripped her as her body responded to the rhythm of the bachata music—something which was new to her. She had surprised herself, dancing without inhibition, and she had enjoyed every moment of it.

  “I should go,” she said, taking a sip from her bottled water. It wasn’t dark yet, but the light was beginning to fade, and she didn’t want to walk around when it grew dark not knowing the streets well.

  “How about we get an ice-cream?” he asked. “Rome has some of the best gelati. Would you like to try some?”

  No. Her favorite word was about to fly out of her mouth but she stopped herself. Saying ‘yes’ was working out well for her.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes?” His eyes widened. He was exaggerating too much, she thought. “A simple yes?”

  “Yes.” She folded her arms, not liking his mo
cking tone. It was as if he had made up his mind about her. And so, she realized with a start, had she.

  “I’ll take you to a place that sells amazing gelati. Not the best, but good enough.”

  “Let’s go.” She closed her box with half a pizza still left in it. “I can’t eat any more.” The truth was, she could have eaten all of it, but she didn’t want him to watch her eat when he had already finished. She felt self-conscious all of a sudden.

  “You can’t eat any more pizza but you have room for ice-cream?” His lips turned up at the corners.

  “I always have room for ice-cream, or dessert. Always.”

  He stood up and picked up his empty pizza box. “Here,” he said, holding out his hand for her pizza box.

  “I don’t want to throw it away.”

  “Something to have when you get back?” He grinned at her.

  “I don’t like to waste food.” She carried her big half-empty cardboard pizza box under her arm like an extra-large folder, feeling surprisingly happy and sated.

  She followed Christian past a row of shops until they came to a bright, well-lit shop at the end of the row, with floor to ceiling windows. A line spilled out onto the street and they joined it at the end.

  Waiting in line, she noticed other women eyeing Christian up and down and she felt invisible again. And once again, he didn’t seem to notice. But the wait was worth it, and she walked out with a dark chocolate and cherry ice-cream scoop in a cone.

  She had to admit, it was heaven in a waffle cone. The best, most creamiest ice cream she had tasted.

  “Was I right?” He looked pretty smug. “Is this amazing, or what?”

  “It is good.” It sounded as if she’d been expecting the opposite.

  “Isn’t it?” The sight of him licking his ice-cream, with his lips full and moist, transfixed her momentarily. Something fluttered deep in her belly. “This place has something close to the best,” said Christian, “but it’s not the best.”