Passport to Him - Page 50

STILL FUCKING IN FLORENCE

After Lorenzo’stense conversation with Antonio, I didn’t see him for the rest of the day. He told me had meetings to attend and just couldn’t put them off much longer. He handed me a folded note with a random address and told me to meet him there at nine pm. Just like that I was alone in Florence, and I was okay with that. I walked through the Palazzo Vecchio and studied every last intricate detail. As I perused the shops at the Ponte Vecchio, my video call notification alarmed on my phone in my hand.

Finn.

“Hey,” I croaked.

“Hello, Goddess. Are you still in Rome?” he asked.

“No, no I’m in Florence. Just got done at the Palazzo Vecchio and now I’m shopping.”

Aiden appears behind him on the screen as a beaming smile crosses his face.

“There’s my girl,” Aiden says.

“Hello, Aiden.”

Finn turned the phone to focus on him. I’m assuming to get away from the attention of prying eyes around the pub. He gaze is constantly down and refuses to meet my eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

“Finn, stop. Look at me,” I say pointedly.

He hesitantly looks up, his eyes a darker shade of green.

“Have you met anyone?” He asks, his voice soft and hushed.

Shit.

“Finn,” I warn.

He takes a deep shuddering breath as he pushes his hair back from falling down into his face. My eyes close slowly before meeting his questioning gaze directly at me.

Do I lie and tell him I haven’t met anyone? Do I tell the truth? We aren’t exclusive. I don’t even think we are officially dating.

Before I can open my mouth, a deep sigh escapes from his lips.

“Christ, Goddess, it’s none of my fucking business. I know we aren’t together, but I just worry about you being over there,” he says.

“You worry about me finding someone else?” I ask.

“I have never fucking felt this way about someone before, and if you fall for someone it will absolutely fucking gut me, Amelia,” his voice trailing into a hushed whisper.

“Finn, there is something between us that I cannot deny. I’m just focusing on finding out about my family over here. Figuring out what the hell happened and then go from there.”

“Just promise me you will be careful.”

“I promise,” I whisper.

“Look, I got to open the pub. I’m going to leave you to it, but know that I’m here if you ever need me,” he says.

“Thank you.”

He hung up the phone and my screen went blank on my phone. I pocketed my phone into my pocket of my summer dress.

“Fuck a duck in the ass,” I whispered, before focusing my attention on the jewelry shops around me.

That’s it. Focus on jewelry. Focus on that and not the fact that you just sold the biggest steaming pile of shit to that man.

I look down at the Claddagh ring around my finger, twisting it around my finger blankly. I look out across the multiple displays of handmade jewelry in front of me inside the shop displays. Guilty tears threatening to invade my eyes.

What could I possibly say? Hey Finn, I know we started something, and you are great, but I met this Italian stallion who just fingered me in front of a statue of a famous poet around hundreds of people. For fuck’s sake. You are certifiable.

* * *

I metEnzo at the address at the exact time on the paper he gave me.

“Thank you for meeting me,” Enzo says in greeting.

“The 25 Hours Hotel?” I ask incredulously, knowing full well what lie behind these front entry doors.

“You said you were a fan of Dante,” he says, a teasing smirk gracing his lips, his dimples barely covered by his thin facial hair.

As we walked into the 25 Hours Hotel, my nerves were a bundled wheel deep in my stomach. Guilt riding the coat tails of nervousness like an experience horse jockey. The entire hotel is themed after the “Divine Comedy” and Dante’s journey through hell. My eyes took in every critical detail of design and scoffed in amazement.

“You have heard of it?” he asks.

“Of course. This doesn’t even do the pictures justice,” I say, an amused snort escaping my glossed lips.

You either get a “hell” room or a “heaven” room. Which one will be my night with Enzo? Oh my God. Finn is heaven and Enzo is hell. This wicked bad boy turned me into a temptress with his forbidden sex moves and sexual deviance. And I liked it!

We stood in front of the steel doors to the elevator. He stood close to me, holding a tight grip on a bottle of wine in his hands. The occasional glances he stole in my direction didn’t go unnoticed by me. No matter what was going on, a gaze from his iceberg eyes were enough to send chills down my spine. The elevator doors opened to the wine-colored box. The crimson glowing “HELL” on the wall provided the only light inside the small space before us.

“Hell,” I whisper.

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