Page 23 of Italy Can Bite Me

He better get ready for a scathing review because I’m documenting every single way this con artist is destroying my vacation.

Reasons Matteo Monti Is Definitely a Scammer:

1. Late pickup.

2. Bait-and-switch transportation.

3. Mysterious unscheduled stop.

4. His smile(too perfect).

5. Those forearms(distractingly suspicious).

6. The way his ass looks in those pants that makes my thighs clench (wait, no. Scratch that one).

“Signore e signori!”Matteo’s honeyed voice fills the bus. “Prepare yourselves for somethingmagnifico!”

He dances down the aisle, all calculated charm and well-rehearsed finesse. The seniors are eating it up, but I see through his performance. Every gestured flourish and flawless grin—it’s Tourism Theater, and he’s going for a Tony.

“Principessa.” He appears beside my row, hand extended in an invitation that I have no intention of accepting. “Allow me to escort you to your first Italian adventure.”

“I can manage,” I inform him coolly. “But thanks for the transparent attempt to separate these nice people from their money.”

His eyes darken dangerously. “You think I’m running a scam?”

“If the suspiciously overpriced shoe fits…”

“Such little faith. What must I do to have your trust?”

“Sticking to the schedule would be a start.”

“Patience, bella. Good things come to those who—”

“Let me guess. To those who pay inflated prices for ‘authentic experiences’?”

An emotion flashes in his eyes—hurt? guilt?—before his mask of charm slides back into place.

“Let’s get this surprise over with. I have an important picture to take at the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and I’d like to get there while there’s still sunlight.”

“Katie, darling!” Aunt Deb clutches my arm, her bangles jangling. “Isn’t this absolutely thrilling? The mystery! The romance! The view!” She makes a show of fanning herself while openly ogling Matteo’s retreating form.

The seniors spill out of the motorcade, and Matteo motions everyone forward, then claps his hands sharply, demanding the group’s attention.

“Please meet the star of today’s adventure, Otto Peterson!”

Otto looks like every sweet grandpa in every heartwarming holiday movie ever made. His wire-rimmed glasses sit slightly crooked on his nose, and his silver hair forms this perfect fluffy halo.

“Can you please tell the group about your Wish Card?”

“Been playing violin since I was small,” Otto begins. “Back in Idaho, my father and I, we’d play together. Some of my best memories.” He adjusts his glasses with trembling fingers. “The Stradivarius violins… they’re more than instruments. They’re pieces of history. My father dreamed of seeing one. He never got the chance.”

“My friend.” Matteo places a hand on the older man’s back. “This is the Museo del Violino. Today you live that dream for both of you.”

The seniors explode into applause while Otto hugs Matteo.

“Didn’t that just wrap your heart in the coziest little hug?” Aunt Deb gushes beside me, squeezing my arm as a dreamy sigh escapes her lips.

“I guess?”

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