Page 37 of The Roman Holiday Rule

Whoa. The nerve. The brilliance. I have met my match.

I slip my hand under the tablecloth and flick her knee. She makes a surprised little squeak—half ouch and half laugh—but doesn’t look at me. Or move her knee away.

Mariella taps her knife on the table. “Great question, Lexi. I think I would have to say—”

Not so fast, people. I hold up my hand, palm out. “Hey, let’s let her figure it out herself. You know, a little challenge for her time in Italy. That would be fun, huh?”

All three of them turn to ogle me, and I don’t blame them. I sound like an awkward preteen who hasn’t been out of the house for two years. Lexington only lacks a box of popcorn and her enjoyment of the show will be complete.

“Stai a rosica, Mark?” Luca doesn’t know Lexington can understand his Romanesque slang, asking if I’m jealous they get Lexi’s attention while I have to sit this question out. But I can’t tell him because he thinks Lexington and I are complete strangers.

I shove his foot. Small tables and long tablecloths are my new favorite thing about Luca’s restaurant.

He smiles, unfazed. “What were you saying, Mariella?”

You know what? It’s fine. To win, Lexington still has to capture the heart of Italy in a picture and gain the majority of Italian votes, and she won’t, even if my cousins give her the perfect idea of what to take a picture of.I’mthe photographer here, and the guy who lives in Rome.

Another glance at Lexington—that smile—and I realize she might be pretty good at getting what she wants. This is between her and me. I need a distraction, now.

Wasting good wine by knocking over my glass is out, and so ispretend falling out of my chair. Panicked for time, I inhale several times and release a massive staged sneeze.

All three of them edge back a little in their seats because we all know that extra couple inches will save you from a germ somersaulting through the air.

The sneeze only took a second, not long enough to be a sufficient interruption. I merge the sneeze into an extended, uncontrollable cough. Lexington hits me on the back, hard enough it’s clear she knows it’s fake. Mariella offers me my glass, but I wave it away. I don’t want anything that would stop this train wreck.

A minute of coughing should do the trick. There’s no way we’ll go back to Lexington’s question at this point. I let the cough die down. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what that was, piece of food thought it couldcheatand skip the right way to go down, I guess,” I rasp.

Mariella’s mouth hangs open at my performance.

But this is apparently what I do, what I’ve done from the second I saw this woman in Boston. Overreact to Lexington Rose Walker. In every sense of the word.

Twenty-One

Lexi

I’m dying inside,death by unreleased giggles. Mark’s obvious attempt to stop his cousins from revealing the heart of Italy was epic. This round goes to me, that’s for sure, even if I didn’t get an answer.

Mariella flags down a waiter for a bottle of water to relieve Mark’s supposed food-lodged throat.

My phone, facedown on the table, chirps with a new message. It’s still early for Julie or any clients to be awake, so I flip it over, curious who would contact me right now.

It’s Mark. He must have texted me under the table. I pull the screen close to my face.

Luca saw the picture you sent last night. Should I tell him the creepy stalker was you?

No, no, no. I just met these people and I like them.

“Mark seems fine,” I tell Mariella. “The water isnot necessary, right, Mark?” I emphasize those particular words, hoping he gets the message loud and clear.

He stretches, chest out. Gloating about besting me in this nextbattle. “Right. I’m perfectly fine.” He pauses and taps his chest like he’s checking for more cough. “For now.”

I hold in a grin and shake my head in silent acknowledgment that we’ve reached an impasse.

The waiter removes our pasta bowls, brings out salmon with asparagus on indigo stoneware plates, and tells Luca that one of his sous chefs needs him for a second in the kitchen. Luca wipes his mouth and slips away with a quick apology.

Two seconds later, Mariella’s phone rings and she takes the call over by the bathrooms. Only Mark and I are left at the table.

We both speak at the same time.