‘What papers?’ His head dropped slightly to the left, as if to size her up more cautiously. ‘Am I breaking any laws?’
Back up a bit now, Lucia. Take a breath. Just hear him out.
‘Am I doing anyone any harm? Am I leaving a mess? Causing noise pollution?’
Lucia fumbled for words. ‘No. . . but . . .’
‘Fantastico!’ His face exuded the glow of moral victory. ‘Then, I’ll take my “literally last of the day” wiltingcornettiupstairs, and get on with my life. Ok? And you can get on with the rest of yours.’ He withdrew a long ornate key from his pocket, turned it in the lock, and opened La Commedia’s door just enough so that he could dip behind it.
As he was about to pull it closed, Lucia lurched forward, shoulders tensed. ‘Aspetta! I didn’t catch your name. To introduce myself properly.’
‘Because I didn’t give it to you.’
Lucia’s jaw clenched. ‘I’ve been keeping an eye on you. And I’ll continue to do so, you know.’
His perfectly chiselled chin, dotted with stubble, poked through the door’s opening. ‘You assume I haven’t been doing the same.Buonanotte.’
He shut the door, and Lucia heard him deadlock it from the inside.
She let out an exasperated groan.
Not a reporter. Not working for Gatti. Just the next best thing: a sarcastic but very good-looking man-child.
Shaking her head, she practically dragged her feet across the pavers back to her side of Calle del Leone. Stopping in the doorway of the school, she cast her eyes to the ink-blotted night sky. ‘If anyone up there is listening, I’d likethat,’ she gestured to La Commedia’s illuminated windows, ‘taken care of, please.’
diciannove
Lucia’s recount of the previous night’s meeting withthe manwas met with open mouths and incredulous eyes on Tuesday morning. Francesco had inched his way as far to the edge of Lucia’s bed as was possible before landing on the floor, and Mariella had clung so fiercely to Foscari that he nipped her hand in warning and she set him down.
‘E allora?’ Mariella’s hands took flight.
‘That was it. He shut me down.’ Lucia replied matter-of-factly.
Francesco made his way to the window and stared across at La Commedia. ‘He’s in there right now. Probably watching us, too.’
‘Heiswatching us. He told me he does.’
Francesco exhaled. ‘I did not expect this at all. Sorry, Lucia, for ever doubting you.’
‘I should have said something cleverer. Wittier.’
‘Shh. Don’t start on that. You will drive yourself mad.’ Mariella waved away Lucia’s worries.
Francesco turned to face them. ‘Lucia, you’ve neglected to share the most important details.’ He dropped himself back on the mattress beside Mariella. ‘What does he look like?’
Lucia scowled. ‘You have a one-track mind.’
‘And I will play it on a loop until I have an answer.’
Despite herself, Lucia laughed. It felt good. She closed her eyes, as if making space in her cluttered brain for the man’s image to return. ‘He’s taller than I am. Dark features. And has a chiselled chin.’ Her fingers danced over the end of her own. ‘Some stubble.’
‘Someone get this woman a thesaurus!’ Francesco mocked. ‘You can do better than that.’
‘I really can’t. It all happened so fast. He’s annoyingly sarcastic. Butreallygorgeous.’
Francesco leaned over with exaggerated interest. ‘Really, now? And how was he dressed?’
‘Like . . . a man?’
