Page 7 of The Fear of Falling
To my surprise, Benson’s lips curl up in a smile before he looks out the window to his right. “No, you didn’t,” he mutters. “But could I give you a little advice?”
I don’t want his advice, but I’m too curious to say as much.
When I stay silent, he glances at me and smiles wider. “A city like Florence is better enjoyed as a discovery than an itinerary. Would you agree, Enzo?”
The driver glances back at us in the rear view mirror and nods vigorously. “Sì, signore. Signora, let Firenze tell you her secrets.”
Before I can say anything, Benson points out his window, then takes my hand like it’s a totally normal thing to do. “Case in point.”
I’m about to tell him to let go of me when the most beautiful building I’ve ever seen comes into view, and all my stranger danger vanishes in an instant. Bathed in sunlight, the building appears out of nowhere, its patterned bricks of white, pink, and green giving it an ethereal feel beneath a massive dome of deep orange. Ignoring propriety and politeness, I lean over Benson’slap to get a better view as we drive past, marveling at the arches and details andoh my gosh it has bells. I didn’t know it had bells!
With a chuckle, Benson rolls the window down, letting the sound of the bells fill the car. We’re driving too fast, and I’ve only gotten a taste of the majesty before it’s out of sight, the bells’ music fading behind the buildings.
I’ve seen pictures of the Duomo—the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore—but none of them came close to doing it justice.
“Don’t worry,” Benson murmurs, and his breath brushes my hair and sends a shiver through me. “It’ll still be there tomorrow.”
Oh, I am full-on lying on this man’s lap. Mortified—again—I twist and look up at him. Logically, I should sit up, but that building hit me like the ton of bricks that it’s made from, and I am overcome with awe. “That was…” I don’t have words. It’s been so long since I saw anything like that that I’m completely overwhelmed and apparently totally cool with staying where I am.
Maybe Benson wasn’t judging me as much as I thought he was, because the smile he’s giving me is enough to warm me to the bones. He’s looking at me the same way Eric looked at me when we first met, and my stomach does a little flip as my imagination sparks to life.
One of Benson’s fingers loops around a bit of my hair, pulling it from my face in the most romantic gesture I’ve experienced in I don’t know how long, and he is not helping me cool down. “The whole city can be like that if you do it right,” he murmurs. “A schedule won’t give you that feeling you just had.”
No, he’s not wrong, though right now I’m more focused on the attraction burning through me than the lingering effects of seeing the Duomo in the afternoon sunlight. If ever I wanted a fling—not that I do—this would be the guy to do it with. With hishandsome face and silky voice and rugged build, he’s likely the man of many a woman’s fantasies. He doesn’t seem to mind that I’m lying here in his lap like it’s perfectly normal after freaking out about abuilding.
“Those bells…” I whisper, trying to distract myself from imagining the whole of this trip with Benson at my side. That’s not a fantasy I need to conjure right now. Or ever. “They were…” Again, words can’t do the moment justice. “I’ve been to Notre Dame, and I didn’t think it was possible for anything to top that.”
Chuckling, Benson moves more hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear as he gazes down at me. Crap, maybe Idowant a fling. He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, the taxi pulls to a stop, and he looks out the window. “We’re here.”
“We?”
He helps me sit up. “Coincidentally, I am also staying at the Villa Fiorentina.”
This has to be fate, right? Poppy would call it fate. Cosmic coincidence has pushed us together, putting us next to each other on the plane and making him notice me waiting for a taxi and setting us up in the same hotel.
Do Iwantit to be fate?
As Benson climbs out of the car and starts unloading luggage with the driver, Enzo, I take a moment to breathe and look down at the few texts I’ve gotten from Eric over the last day. Real life, with all its stress and awkwardness, will still be waiting for me when I get back. Indulging in a fantasy will likely only leave me even more brokenhearted when I have to let it go. I don’t know anything about Benson—where he’s from, what he does for work, whether he’s even single—but he radiates adventure and passion and the energy of a person I used to be.
I miss that more than I realized.
Benson opens my door and holds out a hand to me with a dazzling smile brightening his features, and my stomach twistsin a knot of apprehension and excitement. It’s just a week. It’s not like I’ll fall in love in a week, so I’ll be fine. I’ll just have a little fun and make the most of this escape from reality, and then I’ll be able to go back to work feeling refreshed and energized and ready to face this beast that is my company and failed relationship.
As I step out of the car, my foot catches on the edge and sends me tumbling straight into Benson’s chest. He catches me, of course, looping an arm around my back to steady me. “You good?” he asks, and his voice rumbles in his chest, where I’m getting a noseful of his clean scent.
Oh boy. “Never better,” I breathe.
I’m pretty sure I mean that.
Chapter 4
Benson
“Bens!Youmadeit!”The shout from my old client and longtime friend carries across the hotel lobby, full of energy I wish I had.
I fall into Riccardo’s boisterous embrace with a laugh, though I am desperate to go up to my room and take a nap. Two days of no sleep? Not great. But I didn’t tell Riccardo I was coming, so it’s a good thing I ran into him here so he knows to include me in all the events of the week. “Hey, man.”
“Dude, I was just telling Siena how much it sucked that you weren’t going to be able to get away, but she said you would pull off some miracle like you always do and…”
