‘I’m sure it’s going to be lots of fun. He works so hard. It will be nice to take him out for the day.’
‘Giuseppe is ok for him to have the day off work?’ Marcella asked.
‘He encouraged it! He practically signed a release form.’ Stella laughed.
‘I’msurehe did.’ Marcella’s left eyebrow hooked with a sarcastic air. ‘It sounds great. I hope you have a good day out. You deserve it. It’s been a difficult week,tesoro.’ She kissed Stella goodnight and made for the door. From the corridor, she couldn’t help but tease, ‘Take a condom!’
‘What?’ Stella called after her. Marcella’s comment had been muffled by the thick walls.
A head full of wiry curls appeared through the open door. ‘Take yourcasco, I said.’
‘Will do.Buonanotte.’
trenta
The stillness and quiet of the piazza was oddly unsettling. It magnified each and every sound Marco heard; the fluttering wings of thepiccionigathered in Santa Maria’s belltower, the low metallic squeak of window shutters gently swaying on the breeze.
Every echo of footsteps made him turn and would kickstart his heart with a fresh flurry of adrenaline. He adjusted then readjusted the collar of his coat, and no matter how many times he flattened the hem of his jumper, it never seemed to sit right.
Then, at exactly six o’clock, marked by the toll of the bells, Stella stepped around the corner. In that instant, it all disappeared. The fidgeting nerves, the self-conscious grooming. Marco felt a sudden sense of calm, of complete contentment. And on cue, his face bloomed into a spontaneous smile.
‘Buongiorno, Luna,’ she said, holding up her helmet. ‘Thecascoand I are ready.’
‘I see,’ he greeted, kissing her on both cheeks, catching a freshly dabbed layer of her perfume. It made his insides churn with want. ‘Have you eaten?’ he asked, trying to distract himself.
She checked her phone. ‘It’s six am. I woke up eleven minutes ago. What do you think?’
‘Not a morning person,eh?’
‘Never have been, never will be.’
‘Icould change that.’
Stella, fastening her helmet, was caught by the shift in his tone. ‘Oh, really?’
He winked and helped her onto themotorino. ‘Ok,Bella Addormentata. Let’s see Roma.’
They snaked along the Tiber, traversed Ponte Regina Margherita and made their way past Piazza del Popolo. Marco zoomed through the back streets, climbing gradually higher.
Stella, recognising the unmistakable direction in which they were travelling, wasn’t at all surprised when Marco pulled up outside the Villa Borghese gardens. He chose the entrance with spectacular views across the rooftops of Rome, just a short walk from the peak of the Spanish Steps.
‘This is our first stop,signorina.Andiamo.’
Stashing their helmets, Marco grabbed their breakfast from the storage compartment of hismotorinoand led Stella to the top of the Spanish Steps. They made themselves comfortable on a bench near the entrance to Santissima Trinità dei Monti, the church with an enviable vantage point over Piazza di Spagna.
As the sun was yet to break, the wintry night air was only just starting to recede and it was frightfully cold.
Stella had been wearing gloves but removed them to take the slice of ciabatta Marco offered her. ‘A sunrise picnic? This is lovely.’
‘The best in the city.’ Turning, he collected a little container of freshly churned ricotta. ‘Take some,’ he said, and Stella dipped the bread into the cheese.
The ricotta was still warm; a surprising sensation she had never experienced before. Of course, she had eaten lots of it over her lifetime, but it had always been cold from the fridge.
Nodding furiously, Stella tried to convey her approval. Swallowing down another mouthful, she said, ‘That’s . . . it’s—’
‘Warm.Esatto. You haven’t had ricotta until you’ve had it warm from the vats.’ He held his palm flat against the underside of the tub. ‘It’s almost cold compared to how I bought it.’
‘Where did you get it?’
