Page 10 of My Italian Love Affair

“Good,” he says, nodding like he was actually interested in the answer. “Figured I’d swing by and give you the lay of the land. You’ve got about a day to get your bearings before we start.”

“Startwhat, exactly?”

"What, you don’t know the schedule?"

I stare at him for half a second as he leans against the doorway, debating whether to be honest or just make something up to save face.

"I - uh - I was going to go over it after unpacking," I say, nodding towards my bags like they somehow prove my point.

"Right. Well, you might want to speed that up. Press event’s tomorrow afternoon. You’ll get to meet some of the players, shake some hands, start learning the ropes."

I nod slowly, trying to keep my expression neutral.

"Oh - sure. That sounds… great."

"Don’t sound too excited," he says dryly.

I force a polite smile.

"I’ll try to contain myself."

He smirks, like he finds my attempt at professionalismamusing.

"Just stick close to me. Watch, listen, take notes. And try not to embarrass yourself, yeah?"

I try not to grit my teeth as I respond. “Will do.”

Mark studies me for a second, then gestures vaguely towards my apartment.

“Nice place. Looks like The Tribune are treating you well.”

I glance over my shoulder.

“Yeah. It’s cute,” I admit. “Feels very…authentic.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he says. "Bit of an upgrade from wherever you were slumming it in London, I bet."

I raise an eyebrow, but just about manage to keep a sickeningly sweet smile firmly in place.

"Oh, absolutely. I’ll be sending Richard a thank-you note for the wobbly table.”

"Hey, it’s Rome. You’re lucky you didn’t end up in a shoebox with a view of a back alley."

"Well, I do have a partial view of a gelato shop," I counter.

"Right. Living the dream,” Mark snorts. “Just wait ‘til you’re standing in a press pit for hours, trying to get a decent quote out of a player who barely speaks English anddefinitelydoesn’t give a shit about what you’re asking."

"Sounds like you’ve really mastered the art of selling this job."

"Just managing expectations," he replies smoothly. "Nothing worse than a rookie thinking it’s all glamour and VIP treatment."

I let out a short laugh.

"Trust me, I don’t think that."

There’s a beat of silence before Mark checks his watch and then finally pushes off the doorframe.

“Alright. I’ll leave you to it. Just be ready by noon tomorrow and meet me at the office. We’ll head over together.”

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