Page 73 of Bargaining

“Get back in this bed.”

She paused at the bathroom door. “Tour first. If you do a good job as my guide, you might get a reward later.” She gave me a shrug and a sardonic smile. “Then again, you might not. Let’s hope you’ve brushed up on your Roman history.”

Chapter 33

Charlotte

“That’s it. It’s official.” Cole stopped in the middle of a small piazza and peered at his phone. “We’re lost.”

No surprises. We’d always got lost when Dad took us to tour historical sights. I sipped a hot cappuccino from a takeout cup and perched on the low wall surrounding a tinkling marble fountain. I kept my tone teasing. “I thought you prided yourself on your expert sense of direction?”

“That’s really not a helpful comment. What do you think?” He gestured to the crumbling stone steps that led up to a church. “Is this the same church from back there or different?”

A line of nuns streamed past him, like a black and white river around an island. The nuns headed to the church, which looked identical to at least a dozen we’d passed. “I have no idea.”

The hum of distant mopeds filled the air. Cole brushed an imaginary speck of dirt from his tailored chinos. It was so rare to see him without a sharp suit on, but even hotshot CEOs had to bow to the heat in Rome. God. He looked sexy. Anyone could pick me out as a tourist with my sunburnt nose and backpack, but inhis designer sunglasses and chic linen shirt rolled at the cuffs, Cole blended in like a stylish local.

“It doesn’t matter.” I held my arms out and tipped my head up to the sun. “Soak it in. I want the authentic Rome experience.”

“But we could be missing the important stuff.”

“Are you kidding me? This is the important stuff. Renata has had me marching around to all these different sights. I want a spontaneous day.”

I set off walking again, and Cole fell in step alongside me. Church bells rang out somewhere. The warm breeze carried the sweet pastry smell of a bakery. We passed through one cobbled street after another until we found ourselves on a wider road, thrumming with small cars and mopeds.

Cole shot me a sidelong glance. “You know the Italians only drink cappuccino in the morning.”

I laughed as I pitched my empty cup into a bin. “So what? I’m a tourist.”

“I thought you wanted the authentic Rome experience?”

“I do, but I’ll drink my hot frothy milk whenever I choose, thank you very much.”

A small single-decker bus slowed as it rattled down the road next to us. The sign above the front window readVilla Adriana.It hissed to a halt at the stop.

A reckless impulse grabbed me. “Come on. We should get on that.”

“A bus?” Cole’s eyebrow quirked as though I’d suggested chartering the bus to the moon.

“Yes, quick.”

He folded his arms and shook his head. “No. Absolutely no way.”

I grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the bus stop. “Yes. Absolutely yes way.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I have a driver on call.”

“It will be fun to get out of the city. I read about this place in the guidebook. We’re being spontaneous.”

An older nun elbowed Cole out of the way. “Look how many people are getting on this.” He pulled out his phone. “I’m calling the driver.”

I poked him in the side. “Stop moaning. Normal people ride on the peasant wagon. Wait. Have you ever caught a bus before?”

He fiddled with the cuff of his pristine shirt. “Not that I recall.”

“You can’t go your whole life having never ridden a bus. That’s just weird.”

He smirked. “I’m sure I can live with it.”