“Wait a second,” I say, disregarding his question. “Just to clarify, you’re Professor Leoni’s son? You mean you’re not married to her?”
“Married to my mom?” he asks, disgusted. “What’s wrong with you? No. Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know,” I answer. My heartbeat calms for the briefest second now that I’m sure I didn’t openly admit my abject dislike and take an ironic photo with my host’s husband. My respite is short-lived, however, when another figure strides onto the terrace, also carrying a tray of food. This time it’s a woman who’s bouncing with liveliness, is barely five feet, has curly black hair for days and is wearing a caftan in one of the loudest prints I have ever seen. This burst of color is obviously the good queen of the castle.
“Buona sera a tutti,”she practically sings, sashaying over to us until she stops at Matt’s side. “Matteo, my love, have you greeted our guests?” She nudges him with her shoulder, prompting him to flash a disinterested smile in our general direction.
“I was just about to,” he says.
“Perfetto!”Stepping forward so Matt is a background figure instead of center stage, she goes on, “Designers! Welcome! Welcome to Rome and welcome to our home. I’m Francesca Leoni and this is my son, Matteo. And we’re so looking forward to getting to know each of you.”
“Right,” Matt then says, leisurely easing forward. “Because, of course you’ll all be staying here for the month.” His eyes once again move to mine, but I don’t blink. I don’t cower. “Fantastic.” His tone is purely morose, and his mother sends him a questioning glance before she faces us once more with a gracious smile.
“Well, I’m glad everyone’s found the prosecco. I’m sure you’re all starving after your flights, so I threw together some calamari, baked clams, spiedini and we can never forget fresh mozzarella, tomato and basil.”
Hearing the menu leaves me overpowered by hunger, despite my frazzled nerves. The professor and Matt drift past us to set the trays down and I sniff the air like a bloodhound, catching the scent of garlic, breaded fish and tomato sauce as I all but start to salivate.
Two minutes later I have a full plate with a little bit of everything as we’re all seated at a round outdoor dining table. I’ve sandwiched myself between Marco and Holly out of sheer self-preservation, and Matt is seated between his mother and Marco.
Happily clapping her hands together, Professor Leoni is the first to speak. “I must tell you all, I absolutely love having a full house like this. Usually, I only ever have studentsormy son. Matteo has never been here during the school’s internship before.”
“How lucky for us,” Marco replies.
“So. Very. Lucky,” I murmur slowly and quietly.
Matt picks up on my not-so-subtle gloom and casts his ever-present cold stare in my direction when his mom distracts him.
“Do you remember what I told you about the competition, my love? About what they’ll be doing during their stay with us?”
He takes a sip of wine and carefully places his glass onto the table. “Vaguely,” he answers.
“Well, Marco, Holly and Violet were chosen from their whole graduating class to come to Rome. They submitted their portfolios to the school with samples of their work and were the top three designers. Bravo,” she adds, sending us a wink.
“So now that they’re here, they’ll be interning for Gia Luca Designs and, in their free time, they’ll begin drafting and creating their own five-piece collections. In August they’ll present their collections in a school fashion show when they return to New York and the winner will get a position at Lilli B., a growing label that just opened their new studio in Midtown. Can you imagine how exciting this is?”
“Very exciting,” he answers obligingly. “So it sounds like the next couple of weeks will be chaotic for everyone. I doubt we’ll get to see much of each other. Such a shame.”
He gives us a smile that’s charming enough, but I see it for the slow-forming, evil-villain grin that it is. For her part, Professor Leoni takes a bite of calamari and wiggles in her seat as she savors the taste. Her green eyes are sparkling as they then drift among her three guests.
“Now, I know you’ll all be very busy, but you must find time to have fun as well. Tell me, what have you all thought of Rome so far? Is this your first time here?”
“I’ve been here a couple of times before,” Holly admits. “But never on my own.”
“How marvelous!” the professor exclaims. “Oh, to be young and wandering these beautiful streets again. Do you feel the magic?”
“I’mdefinitelyfeeling the magic,” Marco says, his eyes mischievously dancing between me and Matt. “Right, Violet? I knowyou’refeeling the magic.”
“Oh, I’m feeling something alright.” Awkwardness. Disbelief. All the unluckiness in the world.
Matt looks like he’s feeling the same. That or he’s constipated. He really shouldn’t squish his face up so much whenever I speak.
“There are so many marvelous things you have to see,” the professor goes on. “Rome is meant to beexperienced. The art, the monuments. The statues in the Galleria Borghese truly are unparalleled.”
“I hope they’re insured,” Matt says under his breath, sending an unassuming glance my way. “No offense, but you seem a little clumsy.”
“What are you talking about, Matteo? Don’t be rude,” his mother chides. Then to us, “I’ll arrange something for the group. I promise you three will not leave this city without seeing it in all its glory.”
“I can’t wait to see the sights,” Marco replies. “Just walking around before we got here felt like we were in a living, breathing museum.”
