Charlie turns to Michelle. She looks back with disbelief. But this is only day one, and given the bedroom situation, he thinks it best not to upset Ansel or risk an uncomfortable sleeping arrangement by voicing the truth, so he shrugs in acceptance. His focus is on wooing Dario, not making enemies.
“Grazie mille, Ansel. Are you needing anything else?” Dario asks, appearing more tired than he was when they arrived. All that socializing. Charlie considers himself an extrovert, but international travel can really kill your personal battery.
Ansel shoots Dario with a loaded smile. “Not right now.”
“Let me know if you do,” Dario adds.
“I will,” Ansel says, eyes flecked with mischief. He exits toward the outside stairwell.
Michelle slaps her palms on her thighs. “I’m tired. I’m going to head upstairs to whichever room Selina didn’t claim. Bonne nuit,” she says, proffering a small wave.
A charge lingers in the room once it’s only him and Dario. Charlie blames the slight buzzing of his skin on the limoncello working its way through his system and not the appealing lean Dario does in the room’s arched doorframe.
“I wanted to say thank you for your hospitality. This place is beyond my wildest imaginings. I can’t even conceive what the museum looks like,” Charlie says.
“You’ll get the chance to see for yourself tomorrow. You should rest up before then after all those travels,” Dario says.
“I promised I’d call my family when I arrived. I got so caught up in dinner that I forgot. Do you have the Wi-Fi password?” Charlie couldn’t afford the pricey international plan his cellservice required for him to make calls out here, but he knows he won’t be able to sleep if he doesn’t update his family.
“Of course. Video call or voice call?” Dario asks.
“What time is it?” Charlie does the mental math. They are six hours behind in Pennsylvania. “Video.”
“The connection is stronger out in the barn house. Happy to let you in, if you’re okay with that,” Dario says.
“Cool, yeah. Thanks.”
They head back out into the yard. The staff at the villa works quickly and silently to pack up the food and take down the tent. Charlie follows Dario as he weaves through the workers, noting that his gait seems to lack the confidence of someone who has just inherited a global chocolate empire. From the profile and the pictures accompanying the contest notice, Charlie visualized a broad-smiled, aggressive salesman mixed with European elegance. Someone more like Ansel. Dario has softer edges than he expected, which is intriguing.
The rounded, windowed doors of the barn house open into a large room with a king-size bed at its center. At the foot of the bed, a tiny white dog perks up from sleep. It yaps immediately upon seeing them.
“Tutto bene, Angelo. Charlie è un nostro amico,” Dario says, leading Charlie inside. “Meet Angelo. The only Cotogna who can’t have chocolate. He’s friendly, just excited.”
Charlie laughs and scratches the dog on the top of his head where his fur is tufted and soft.
In the left corner of the room there is a wooden chair beside a tabletop where a TV rests. “Will this work?” Dario asks.
Charlie nods and sits. There is a piece of paper on the desk with the Wi-Fi password written on it. He keys it into his phone and calls his mom, but she doesn’t pick up. “That’s weird. She should be home from work by now. I’ll try my grandpa.”
“Your grandpa lives with your parents?” Dario asks.
“Both of my grandparents do. They’re mostly homebound for health reasons,” Charlie says. A framed photo of Cosimo Cotogna Sr. catches Charlie’s attention on the bedside table across the room. “I was really sorry to hear about your grandpa’s passing.”
“Que? Oh, grazie.” Dario stands at the propped open doors. The jangle of Angelo’s collar echoes outside as he circles for a spot to pee. Dario stares into the night, but it doesn’t appear that his eyes land on anything.
“You must miss him,” Charlie says. Thoughts of his own grandfather passing invade his brain, but he shuts them down. Grandpa has such strong will that he might outlive Charlie at this point.
“Si. Yes. We all do.” He presses his back into the wood of the door, so it swings and squeaks.
“How is it being the new head of Amorina?” Charlie asks.
Dario’s facial expression fluctuates rapidly.
A loud chime erupts from Charlie’s phone. His mom’s contact photo appears on the screen.
Dario looks relieved to not have to answer. “Take your time,” he says before shutting the door.
An uncomfortableness fills Charlie’s belly. Did he say something wrong?
