Page 2 of My Italian Love Affair

I arch a brow.

That could mean anything coming from Richard.

“I’ve got a career opportunity for you.”

Wait,what?

Acareer opportunity?

A promotion? A raise?

A golden ticket out of this hellhole?

“You… do?”

It’s difficult to be excited given that this was not the plan.

When I graduated last year with a degree in English Literature, I had big dreams. I was going to be a novelist - the kind that people lined up to meet at book signings; the kind who had a special dedication page thanking their family, friends, and professional team for believing in them fromthe start.

Instead, I’m writing about the romantic failures of D-list celebrities.

Which is ironic considering I’ve never been in love myself.

Richard nods, lips twitching like he’s enjoying the power trip of dragging this out.

“Three months in Rome.”

I stare at him.

“Rome?”

“Yes, Rome. As in Italy. Where the pizza is better than whatever scraps you’ve been having for lunch here.”

I ignore his sly dig, feeling a grin forming.

Rome.

This ishuge.

I try my best to swallow down the excitement, not wanting him to see just how much I’m internally screaming with joy.

“Can I ask - why exactly would I be going to Rome?”

Richard straightens up, all business again.

“You’ll be covering football.”

Well.That's one way to bring me crashing back down.

“Football?”

“Yes,” he nods. “Football.This is a fantastic opportunity for you to branch out. We’ve been working in partnership with the Roma team, as part of a wider piece with Serie A. This is going to be huge. And honestly...”

He pauses, tapping his fingers on the desk like he’s about to drop a bomb.

“You’re the best we’ve got on short notice.”

I blink.

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