Page 30 of Shattered Oath
The train to Florence was half-empty.
I sat by the window and watched Lombardy blur into Tuscany. Golden fields giving way to rolling hills. Cypress trees standing like dark sentinels against the sky.
My phone sat silent in my lap. Femi hadn't called back.
I wasn't disappointed. I wasn't.
The address Meg had given me led to an industrial district on the outskirts of the city. I took a taxi from the station and found myself standing in front of a gray warehouse that looked nothing like the pictures on their website.
The front office was locked. A sign on the door said they'd moved locations three months ago.
I checked my phone. No signal.
I started walking, turning corners, and getting more lost with each step.
I stopped in front of a small café to get my bearings. Pulled out the address again, stared at it like it might suddenly make sense.
"Bella?"
I looked up.
Matteo Rossi stood on the sidewalk, paper bag in one hand, espresso cup in the other. He stared at me like I was a mirage.
"Che sorpresa," he said softly. "What are you doing in Florence?"
6ISABELLE
"Che sorpresa,"Matteo said softly, his Italian accent rolling smooth as honey. "What are you doing in Florence?"
For a moment, I could only stare. Of all the people I could have run into on a random street corner in an unfamiliar city, it had to be him.
"I'm looking for a vendor," I managed. "A mannequin supplier. But the address I have is wrong. They moved, apparently, and I have no signal, and I'm completely lost."
The words tumbled out in a rush, betraying exactly how frazzled I was. So much for looking like I had everything under control.
Matteo's expression shifted from surprise to concern. "Mannequins?"
I nodded, feeling the tightness in my chest intensify. “Yes. I’m opening a boutique in Milan in five days. The order was never finalized because of some missing paperwork. Now I have seventy-two hours to find replacements or I'm displaying clothes on thin air."
He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Dio mo.That must have been very stressful for you."
It was such a simple thing to say. No unsolicited advice. No solutions I hadn’t already thought of. Just acknowledgment. My throat tightened unexpectedly, tears threatening at the edges of my vision.
"Have you eaten?" he asked.
I blinked at the shift in topic. "What?"
"Food. Today. Have you had any?" His dark eyes searched my face with genuine concern.
I tried to remember. Coffee this morning. Nothing since. "No," I admitted. "I haven't."
He nodded as if this confirmed something he'd suspected. "Come. I know a place nearby. You eat first, then we figure out the vendor."
"Matteo, I don't have time to?—"
"You have time to eat." He said it firmly, but not unkindly. "You can't solve problems on an empty stomach. Trust me."
I wanted to argue. I should have argued. But I was tired and hungry and lost, and he was looking at me with such steady calm that I found myself nodding.
