She leaned over the lounger to grab her bag--a leather monstrosity she carried with her everywhere--and tried not to think about how much skin she was showing. Professional, she thought to herself. Try to look professional.
The blue bikini and strappy sandals that Marco had so approved of this morning were looking like more and more of a mistake. Her white terry cloth cover-up barely lived up to its name, and she could feel Giovanni’s gaze as it traveled up her legs to where it ended suggestively, allowing glimpses of her cobalt covered bum.
Men. She sighed.
“May I offer my assistance?” Mina felt fabric graze her calf as he stepped closer, and she shook her head. “Oh no, I’ve got it.” She gave the bag a tug and it finally popped free, setting her a little off balance. Giovanni caught her by the elbow and steadied her, his boyish smile beaming with pleasure that he’d saved her from a possible fall, and Mina laughed at the of the situation. So much for professional.
“I guess I should have just let you help in the first place.” She stepped back, and Giovanni’s hand slowly released her. The proximity should have bothered her, but she felt no threat from his presence. He made sure she was settled on her feet, and then spoke.
“Helping is nice,” he said, “but being a little bit of a hero is better.” He grinned down at her. “I like being a hero. Maybe I should follow you around and make sure you stay out of trouble. That would make me an even bigger hero.” He puffed out his chest a little, and Mina thought he looked just like Ivy’s cat Luci when he’d brought in a newly dead mouse and dropped it on her lap, expecting heaps of praise for his efforts.
Mina slid her sunglasses back on and contemplated the man in front of her. She hadn’t seen many friendly faces since she’d arrived in Italy, and honestly she’d been so worried about everything that she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed easy, everyday conversations. At the museum, she and Ivy were always up to something, teasing and poking each other until they’d break down into gales of laughter. It wasn’t that she didn’t like talking to Marco--she did--but most of her conversations with him were heavy with hidden meanings, and sexual tension. She wouldn’t give them up for anything, but laughter was rarely what was on her mind when she was with him. His brother, though… his brother was fun.
She took a moment and tilted her head back, looking at Giovanni over dark rims she allowed to slide down her nose a little. “I don’t know about hero…” She let the words fade away and a little smile curled her lips.
A flash of surprise crossed Giovanni’s face and then quickly disappeared as he realized she was playing along.
“You wound me.” Giovanni waved his arm dramatically and then pressed his fist against his chest. “That such a cruel tongue should belong to such a beautiful woman.” He sighed deeply and raised his eyes to the heavens. “I should have known that no innocent flower could bewitch my brother so.” He dropped his fist and stepped forward, taking her hand in his. “I can only hope that you simply reserve your sweetness for him, and not that you truly feel such disdain for poor Giovanni.”
Mina laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the conversation, the silliness breaking through the shadows that had been following her since her arrival at Villa Genovese.
“I’m sure poor Giovanni can take care of himself,” she said, smiling as she pulled her hand free. “Somehow I doubt that your ego is quite that fragile.”
He gave her a very serious look. “Never doubt the fragility of the Italian male ego,” he said wagging a finger at her. “It is well documented that its injury can lead to grave misunderstandings, terrible tempers and even worse poetry.” He paused and Mina laughed again. “In this case, though, I suppose you can be forgiven.”
Mina opened her mouth to ask what made this case different, but he shook his head and held up a finger to silence her.
“And there, you see?” He gestured broadly. “Listen.”
Mina looked around confused. “See what? I don’t hear anything.”
The devilish smile returned to Giovanni’s face.
“Exactly,” he said, taking her bag and turning her towards the house. “The shouting. It has stopped.” He looked down at her, the kindness in his eyes genuine, and his voice gentle. “I told you it wouldn’t last forever.”
Chapter Two
Another day another 76 euro cents…
Mina dragged an expensive silver-backed hairbrush through her curls and sighed at the staticky mess it made of her hair. It was like everything since she got to Italy--beautiful, expensive, and utterly frustrating.