Page 54 of Royally Roma
She didn’t even want to think about it.
“It’s part of the deal.” He shrugged, as if anything about this negotiation was remotely normal. “Take it or leave it.”
She should leave it. Absolutely she should.
Instead, she heard herself saying, “Valentina would love it.”
Right. Because this was all about her dog.
“Well we wouldn’t want to disappoint Valentina now, would we?” He smiled. Too big. Too knowing.
Her face went hot and she dropped her gaze. But there was nowhere safe to look. She and Nico were still tucked behind the fruit stand for some unknown reason. His hands were pressed against the wall on either side of her head, hemming her in.
He was everywhere.
She reminded herself that seven hundred fifty euros was a lot of money. A whole lot. She wouldn’t even have to split it with the touring company like she normally did. She could keep all of it. Every single penny.
Still, it was a terrible idea. The worst. She couldn’t agree to it. Wouldn’t. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Excellent.” He smiled.
Despite the fact that she’d somehow made a deal with the devil, Julia’s heart did a little tumble at the sight of that grin. Goodness, he was handsome when he smiled and the dimple in his left cheek flashed.
It vanished as quickly as it appeared, and his gaze turned serious. “One more condition.”
When had she failed to be the one in charge? She shook her head. “No conditions.”
“Your no kissing rule is a condition. It’s only fair that I should have one of my own.”
“I need to hear the condition first. Surely you don’t expect me to agree when you haven’t even told me what it is.”
He shrugged. “I drive.”
“You?” She laughed. She couldn’t quite help it. The thought of Nico sitting behind the wheel of her ancient scooter in his perfectly tailored suit was rather hilarious. “Do you even know how to drive a motorcycle?”
“Of course I do, but let’s be honest. That thing you drive barely qualifies.”
“I doubt it would start for you, seeing as you keep insulting it the way you do.” She lifted a brow. “Wait, don’t tell me. You have a way with machinery.”
“Something like that.” He paused for a beat, as if weighing his next words carefully. “Would it help if I told you I’d raced in the Monte Carlo Motorcycle Classic?”
Now she knew he was lying. Without a doubt.
The Monte Carlo Motorcycle Classic was legendary. Not like the Indy 500 or that ridiculously dangerous motorcycle race on the Isle of Man. Those events were for professional drivers. The Monte Carlo race was for motorcycle enthusiasts. Amateurs, albeit competent ones. They were also typically filthy rich—the kind of people who could afford to jet to Monte Carlo for a weekend to ride motorcycles round and round in a circle and then spray Veuve Clicquot all over each other when they were finished. Julia thought she remembered something about Prince Harry competing there once.
“The Monte Carlo Classic? It might bolster my confidence in your driving abilities.IfI believed you.” She rolled her eyes. “Which I don’t.”
Men who partied in Monte Carlo didn’t generally sleep on secondhand sofas in strange apartments belonging to penniless grad students. Or so Julia assumed. “I mean, you’re not serious, are you?”
He laughed but it didn’t sound quite sincere. “Never mind. Just rest assured I know how to drive.”
“Why do you even care?”
“Why wouldn’t I want to drive your beloved Vespa? It’s a classic. You said so yourself.” He held out his hand. “The keys,per favore.”
Seven hundred fifty euros...
She dropped her key ring into his palm. “I’m not going to bother asking to see your driver’s license because we both know you’d never show it to me even if you have one. I’ll give you one test drive. If you pass, you can stay in the driver’s seat. If you have trouble keeping up with the Roman traffic—which I highly suspect you will—we switch. Is that clear?”
