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.
