Kiss Me Goodnight in Rome (The Senior Semester Series Book 2) (3 page)

Chapter Three

Lorenzo

“Something’s off,” I tell Giuseppe, my papa’s accountant.

He nods. “Si, the numbers, they must have been inflated.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, his fingertips digging into his eyes as he tries to stifle a yawn. “I’ve gone over the books four times, Enzo. I don’t know what your Papa was thinking, doing, at the end.” He pauses, looking at me. “Scusa.”

I nod.

“But he never kept the ledgers like this. Everything is all over the place. Nothing adds up. I don’t know where the money went, but a lot of it is missing.”

I lean back in my chair, blowing out a loud breath. Why is everything a disaster? I’m supposed to be meeting Sandro in ten minutes for a quick drink and now, as I sit here surrounded by receipts and ledgers that are all in the red, I know I’ll be late.

“Have you discussed this with my mama?”

Giuseppe nods solemnly. “I’ve called her several times, tried to explain. I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “I know she is grieving, but it’s like she’s checked out. All she talks about is Angelina’s. But Enzo, Angelina’s earns a tiny percentage compared to your papa’s businesses, his companies, his investments. She should be more focused on this…” he taps the top ledger “…instead of making tiramisu.”

I narrow my eyes at him. Is he crazy talking about Mama like that? “I know you’re tired and frustrated Giuseppe but—”

He nods, holding up his hands. “I know. I’m sorry.” He sighs again. “I don’t want this…” he shoves the ledgers, allowing them to slide across the table between us “…to be your papa’s legacy. He worked too hard, cared too much, for this to be all that’s left.”

I nod in agreement, although I’m not quite sure what he is referencing; there should be millions left. Even with this minor glitch, Mama, Claudia, and I are still set for life. So why is he making this into a much bigger deal than necessary?

My phone chimes a text from Sandro. “Where are you?”

I sigh, standing from the table and extending my hand. “I have to go. Thank you for letting me know about all of this.” I gesture toward the stack of falling ledgers. “Let’s see how the next month goes. Call me if it gets worse.”

He nods in agreement, standing to shake my hand. “Something isn’t right, Enzo. It’s just not right.”

I nod, shaking his hand once more before letting go and leaving his office. Fuck if I don’t need a Negroni.

Chapter Four

Mia

“Hello?” I knock again on the green door to the apartment I will be living in for the semester. I check the folded paper again.
Via dei Chiavari, 32. Roma, Italia.
Looking up at the street sign branded into the side of the building for the third time, I assure myself that I am in the right place. The taxi driver took off the second I was settled on the curb, my suitcases standing guard on either side of me.

I knock again.

“Yay! You’re here!” The door opens wide and I stumble forward. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you knocking. I was drying my hair.” The girl before me stands smiling, indicating her damp hair with a flick of her wrist. “I’m Lexi. Here, let me help you with your bags.”

“Mia.” I smile at her shyly. “Thank you.”

“No worries. Paola and Gianluca are still on holiday in Spain. They should be back in like a week or something. Luckily, they left keys for us at the university. I just arrived two days ago, from the Bay area. Hope you don’t mind but I already snagged the room on the left. It has two windows.” She shrugs, pushing open the door to the bedroom on the right and depositing my smaller suitcase at the end of the bed. “Are you tired?”

“Um, no, not really. I slept on the flight.” I toss my backpack on the bed and wheel my second suitcase into the room.

“Perfect! I’ll finish getting ready and let you settle in. Then let’s do dinner and an apperitivo? God, everything just sounds so much better, classier, in Italian, don’t you think?”

“Uh, sure.” What’s an apperitivo?

“Oh wait, let me give you a quick tour. This apartment is so cute.” Lexi grabs my hand, dragging me out of the room. “Here’s my room …” She pushes open the door to her room wider and I peek inside. The layout is the same as mine: queen-sized bed, small desk with a chair and lamp, wardrobe with two doors. The only difference is her room’s a little larger and has two windows. Several picture frames are already propped on her desk and piles of clothes litter the bed. “I hate unpacking,” Lexi says apologetically.

“This is the bathroom.” She points toward the door across the hall from our bedrooms. “We have a bidet! Can you believe that? My mother would die with how European it all is. I guess we can shave our legs in it.” She laughs and I join in, her bubbliness contagious and her warmth putting me at ease. She’s a lot like Emma.

Lexi continues walking down the hallway, passing the main entrance and a small sofa. The hallway suddenly widens into a room in the center of the apartment. “This is the kitchen.” She turns toward me, waving to the space behind her. The kitchen is tiny but clean. A small refrigerator, stove, and sink line one wall. All of the appliances are slightly tinier versions of the appliances back home. Another wall holds shelves that are stacked with various colored plates and chipped glasses. In front of the shelves sits a round table with four chairs, next to a window letting sunlight stream in.

“You need to strike a match to light the stove.” Lexi shudders in horror. “I’m convinced I’ll burn the place down.”

I laugh. “Not much of a cook?”

“Definitely not. Are you?”

I shrug. “I can do the basics.”

“Well hallelujah! My parents will take great comfort in the fact that I won’t starve. Not that they’re too nervous with me being in Italy and all. I’ll probably gain a senior fifteen.” She laughs, patting her flat tummy.

I catch the movement. Not a chance of her gaining weight. She is really skinny.

“Down that hall…” Lexi points to the hallway that leads out from the kitchen “…is Paola and Gianluca’s room and bathroom. I haven’t ventured into their personal space yet. I think it’s so nice they are letting us move in before they even meet us. We totally scored in the host family department.”

I nod in agreement. Paola and Gianluca Franchetti are going to be our host parents for the semester. Lexi and I will live in their home, eat at their table, and practice our Italian with them. Based on the information I received about the Franchettis, Paola and Gianluca are a young couple. Paola works in advertising; Gianluca is in the automobile industry. They seem friendly, easygoing, and incredibly kind. Especially, as Lexi pointed out, to open their home to the two of us while they are out of country, vacationing in Spain.

“Okay, go get ready.” Lexi claps her hands. “Thirty minutes, then we conquer Roma!” She flits out of the kitchen and back to her bedroom. Several moments later, I hear the buzz of a blow dryer.

I shake my head. I like Lexi. She seems fun and outgoing and definitely someone who can push me to test my own boundaries. The girls would approve.

I walk back to my room and sink on the bed. Flopping backwards, arms splayed wide, I sink into the soft mattress. I’ll sleep well tonight. After a few moments, I force myself back up and over to my one window, throwing open the shutters.

My room overlooks a small, winding street. Cobblestones line the street and shops and cafés dot the sidewalk. Laughter and bits of conversation float through my window. A tiny bird flutters past to perch on a vertical sign advertising a bakery three doors down. I smile to myself. It’s like a postcard, exactly how I imagined it would be.

I breathe in deeply, garlic and basil and fresh baking dough making my mouth water in the best way possible. Pizza. I laugh out loud, my hand coming up to cover my mouth. I’m a long way from Philadelphia, where the smell of sewage and stale beer regularly assaults everyone’s nostrils. In a charming way of course.

I unpack my toiletries and walk across the hall to the bathroom. Lexi has already unpacked, her Vera Bradley cosmetics bag perched next to the sink, makeup brushes and eye shadows peeking out. A green towel splashed with yellow flowers hangs on the back of the door underneath a plush white robe. I laugh to myself. This girl really has Emma written all over her.

I brush my teeth and run a brush through my hair. Limp and lifeless, it hangs past my shoulders. I sigh, digging my fingers into the roots, trying to infuse some volume. No such luck. I bobby pin the front pieces to the side and out of my eyes.

Lexi knocks on the door. “How’s it going in there?”

I open the door and she stands in the doorway. Her blond hair tumbles over her shoulders and down her back in soft waves. You’ve got to be kidding me. She is the queen of volume. Her green eyes are bright, lined softly with eyeliner. She walks in, reaching past me to grab a tube of mascara out of her cosmetics bag. “Do you think this is too much?” She gestures to her outfit with the mascara wand, her mouth opened wide as she coats her lashes.

Her outfit, a short denim skirt, white strappy sandals, and a classic navy V-neck T-shirt is casual-chic. It screams college undergrad. She looks like she just stepped off the cover of a university brochure. She looks adorable. “No, I think you look great.”

She shrugs. “I over packed. What are you wearing?”

Right. I look down. My leggings are stained from my meal on the plane, one of my Converse sneakers is untied. My T-shirt is wrinkled from sitting in it for ten-plus hours. Oh my God. I can’t believe I look like this. Sophomore year I wouldn’t even leave my dorm room to run to the shared bathrooms looking like this. Lila would have a field day with me right now.

“Not this.”

Lexi laughs, a soft, breathy chime. “Come on, let’s see what ya got.”

We go back to my room and begin digging through my suitcases. Lexi holds up articles of clothing that she likes, mainly from the stack that Emma packed, commenting the entire time and keeping a log of everything she needs to borrow.

I smile at her. Yeah, I definitely lucked out in the host family and roomie departments.

Chapter Five

Lorenzo

“Something’s up with Mama,” Claudia yells out to me as I pass her bedroom. I prop an arm against the doorframe and look at her expectantly.

She pulls an earbud out of her right ear and props her head up on her palm, her elbow resting on one of the many Versace throw pillows scattered across her bed.

“What do you mean?” I ask. Surely I would notice if something was wrong with Mama—despite the obvious.

“She’s not herself. She’s quieter, more withdrawn. She barely ate last night.”

“She’s been like this for months. Her husband died. Give her a break, Claudia. Stop looking for an issue where there isn’t one.”

My sister huffs loudly, sitting up fully and facing me. “I’m not looking for an issue, Enzo. I’m being serious. Something is off with her. She’s not herself.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Such typical Claudia behavior. Always one for drama and theatrics. “I haven’t noticed.”

“Well, open your eyes and take a look around,” she snaps.

I bite my tongue, controlling my anger. “What do you think it could be?” I say instead of the nasty retort on the tip of my tongue. My God, Claudia would test the patience of a saint.

She shakes her head thoughtfully. “I really don’t know, Enzo. But it’s something. I heard …” She pauses. “Forget it.”

Ah yes, another classically Claudia move. Start a sentence and then stop abruptly to generate interest from the listener and prompt him to dig for information. I debate dropping the conversation completely, but what if something is wrong with Mama?

“What?” I take the bait.

Claudia raises her eyebrows. I guess I’ve even surprised her with my cordiality.

“She was on the phone with Zio Benito.”

Fuck. “Are you sure?”

Claudia nods, her face solemn. “This is bad, isn’t it?”

I nod. “Real bad.”

If Zio Benito is talking with Mama, it could only be for one reason: money.

* * *

I’m back at the restaurant for the dinner shift. For the third time this week. Claudia promised to talk to Mama about Zio Benito, and in return I agreed to work for her this evening. I guess it was the better option though because broaching the topic of Zio Benito is bound to be awkward and painful for her. She might even cry. And I definitely don’t do tears.

Zio Benito is my papa’s brother. They went into business together way back in the day and made a shit ton of money. Then they had a falling out. Once they went their separate ways, Papa’s wealth continued to grow, his businesses expanded, his status in society improved. Zio Benito’s money dwindled; he became an avid gambler, his personal life a series of scandals involving drugs, models, and bribes. With Papa’s passing, his reaching out to Mama could only be for money, a stake in one of Papa’s businesses, or something sketchy.

He didn’t even come to the funeral.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts and the negative turn they take whenever I think of family politics. I just have to get through this shift, and then I can hit the bar with Sandro to burn off some steam, hopefully pick up a girl for the night. Preferably not Simona. I never should have gone home with her two nights ago. The fallout after the first time should have been enough of a warning to steer clear of her.

Stepping out onto the patio, I spot two girls sitting at a corner table. One girl laughs loudly, her gestures exaggerated, her blond hair swaying in the breeze as she shakes her head. I check out her friend. A petite brunette. There’s nothing remarkable about her at first-glance, but after watching her for a moment longer, I’m intrigued by the expressions flitting across her face. Her hair hangs straight past her shoulders and she hunches forward self-consciously.

The blonde laughs again, and I see several men on the street turn in their direction. I shake my head again. American girls are always an entertaining distraction. At least this shift will pass quickly now.

Chapter Six

Mia