Marco lowers the camera as he looks at his subject. “Can you move her over a bit? I want to frame her silhouette inside the arch.” He shows me the screen and I see the adjustment I need to make to Holly’s position. Jogging to her side, I shift her a couple of feet and kneel on the ground to poof out the bottom of the dress. After whipping it up to catch in the wind, I then fling myself out of the shot so Marco can capture it.
A few snaps later he shows me the screen with a victorious smile, and I shield my eyes to better see the picture.
“That isgorgeous,” I tell him. “You’re good. So good, in fact, you should probably drop out of the competition and pursue photography full-time.”
“Nice try, my charming nemesis. Holly, come look at this,” he calls. She makes her way over and inspects the picture, and even she can’t hide her excitement.
“That’s actually really, really nice,” she says. “Can we be done with the public pictures now? Just Dino’s restaurant and done?”
“Dino’s restaurant and done,” Marco agrees.
Holly breathes comfortably for the first time in three hours, and I give her a celebratory hug as Dino walks over.
“What are we thinking?” he asks. “Would you like to go to any more spots?”
“Definitely not,” Holly joyfully answers. “Just your restaurant. If that’s okay.”
Dino grins and pulls his car keys out of his pocket. “It’s more than okay. I’d love to show you and it’s not far from here and I could even cook us all lunch.”
Marco directs his attention to Holly. “It’s up to you, of course. You think we have time for a quick bite before we head back to the office?”
Holly looks at us and then at Dino’s hopeful face. “Yeah, I think so.”
Her adorable suitor gestures toward the car. They walk together as Marco and I slowly follow.
“What happened to you not wanting to go to a hotel with a stranger in a foreign country?” I ask.
“He’s a chef and he offered us lunch, Violet. If we’re going to die, I’m going to the grave well fed.”
An hour later our social media shoot is officially wrapped. The rooftop at the restaurant was sophisticated and sexy as hell. The clothes looked pristine, Holly looked confident and the three of us couldn’t be happier with the end result of our intimidating, incredible project. We’re still in the empty restaurant, but now we’re in the kitchen with Dino. He’s making pasta carbonara and Holly is beside him. She’s dressed in chef attire, provided by our host, with the designer clothes safely hung up at a safe distance where we can keep an eye on them. Marco and I are leaning over the camera in a vacant prep area as we sort through the digital images, making note of our favorites.
We’ve selected the winners from the Spanish Steps and the Colosseum and are cruising through the rooftop shots when a particular voice echoes through the kitchen and I audibly gasp.
“Hello? Marco?” the voice calls again.
“Is that Matt?” I ask, whipping toward the sound.
Lo and behold, Matt’s head appears through the swinging kitchen door as he peers inside, then stepping all the way in when he spots Marco and me. “Hey,” he says, walking purposely toward us.
“How did he know we were here?” I whisper to Marco.
“He knew because I texted him.”
“And why would you do that?”
Marco looks at me like I should have anticipated this. “I wanted to let an extra person know where we were, and when he asked what was going on, I told him to swing by. Why are you freaking out? You should be happy that your man-piece would drop everything to come protect us. There’s no pleasing you sometimes.”
“He’s not my man-piece,” I insist, my voice dropping even lower.
He scoffs. “Yeah, okay.”
Matt arrives at our side, and I plaster on a way too bright smile.
“Hello, hello,” I say loudly, prompting him to lean away a bit in the face of my excessive enthusiasm.
“Hi,” he replies questioningly. “Are you okay?”
“Mmm,” I fire back. “Yeah, I’m great. I’m like, above-average great. Why? How are you?”
