Page 16 of The Roman's Woman (A Singular Obsession)

They were heading out the door when she remembered that he’d wanted to tell her something. “What was it that you were going to say earlier?”

His lips parted and he stopped short on the sidewalk. “Um, I, yes…”

Shuffling his feet, he looked at her and then down, gesturing to the opposite side of the street. When he stayed quiet, she spoke up.

“Is there something across the street you wanted to show me?”

“No. I uh—I have another job.”

Stunned, she stared at him blankly for a second. “Are you giving up street performing?”

“Er, no. I mean I’ve always had another job. I work…at a bank.”

Incredulous, she laughed. “Wow. That’s incredible. You’re moonlighting on your job as a street performer by working at a bank. Are you like a teller or something?”

“A teller?”

“The person who gives money at the counter,” she clarified, wondering what they called it in Italy.

Gio tugged on the collar of his polo shirt. “Um, no. I do many different things. Whatever needs doing.”

He must be some sort of gopher, an errand runner. Still, it was something that he was open to working in a non-creative field.

“I think that’s great,” she said and held out her hand. “Well, should we head out?”

Gio hesitated. “Yes.”

He took her hand and she beamed, her unpleasant phone call forgotten.

Chapter 6

It had been the most amazing day. Gio had definitely stepped up his game. They saw all the landmarks left on her wish list, and spent hours getting lost in the Museum Capitolini. After dinner, her tour guide surprised her with an unexpected gift, a gorgeous dress she could wear to an exclusive club opening that night.

“Are you sure your cousin doesn’t mind me borrowing her dress?” she asked, fingering the material of the skirt.

It was a figure-hugging black silk number with a square-cut bodice and diaphanous Juliet sleeves. Except for the sleeves, the silhouette was similar to her favorite dress—the white vintage satin she brought for the Morgese Foundation dinner. Like the white one, it flattered her figure without making her feel exposed and uncomfortable. She loved it.

“Marina doesn’t mind at all. It doesn’t fit her anymore.”

Sophia glanced down at the dress. “Are you sure she even wore it? It looks brand new,” she said, running a hand over the front panel.

He shrugged. “My cousin has a lot of gowns. Too many. She’s always getting more and giving away the old ones. Actually, she mentioned that you could keep this one if you wanted…”

Ooh. That was tempting.

She wanted to keep it, but the dress was of such fine quality it had to be worth a lot of money. Several hundred euros, at least. The tag had a design on it, but no name brand she recognized. Regretfully, she shook her head.

“I couldn’t possibly accept it. It’s too much.”

“No, you should take it. The dress will probably end up in a pile for donation.” He ran his hot golden eyes up and down her figure. “Besides, I doubt it will look that good on anyone else. It’s like it was made for you.”

Biting her lip, Sophia stroked the material again.

“Well, as long as it doesn’t fit your cousin anymore,” she said, her voice reluctant, but secretly filled with covetous glee.

They arrived at the club,Il Gatto Mammone, shortly after.

She hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t this sleek and expensive looking space, complete with velvet ropes and a handsome bouncer in a black fitted suit. The interior was even more impressive. Booths in black leather with white accents surrounded a translucent floor with overlapping circles etched in it. Under each circle a different light shone, shifting from one color to another in an updated version of the dance floor in Saturday Night Fever.

---