Page 9 of The Fear of Falling
I glance across the lobby, where Riccardo and his fiancée are now watching me with unabashed interest. They’re going to have questions, and I’m not sure I’ll have the answers. I’m not usually the hero type, so this little act of selflessness is going to be hard to explain. “Uh, rain check?”
Her cheeks bloom with color, and she also looks over at Riccardo, likely realizing we have an audience. “Oh, yeah. Of course. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“Sure.” Unless there are absolutely no beds in this hotel and I have to find out why Giulia was so worried about sending Avery somewhere else.
“Thanks again!” With a wave, Avery grabs her multitude of luggage and heads for the elevator, where she can barely fit with all her stuff.
“Grazie,” I tell Giulia, sliding a twenty-Euro note across the counter. “You are an angel.”
Though she hasn’t lost her blush, Giulia’s gaze is less heated than it was before. Avery’s display must have dampened her interest, which is a good thing. Unless I need her to find me a place to sleep. “Prego,” she says. “Good luck. If you need anything, Mr. West…” She leaves that open ended, and a bit of invitation enters her gaze.
I can’t help but smile at her as I heft my bag onto my shoulder and head back to where Riccardo is eagerly waiting for me. Thankfully, Siena is talking to one of the hotel staff now, so I’ll only have to endure one person’s interrogation.
“Benson West,” he says, clucking his tongue. “Really playing the field, aren’t you? Who was that? Backup in case the receptionist doesn’t go for your charm?”
“Everyone goes for my charm,” I say with a chuckle. “She’s just a woman I met on the plane and needed some help with something. And no, I’m not about to go after the receptionist at the hotel where I’m staying. Speaking of, I find myself without a room, and I’m hoping you can help me.”
“You flew all the way to Italy and don’t have a room? I knew you were crazy, but that’s next level.”
I debate telling him that I gave my room to Avery, but he would give me crap about it the rest of the week. It’s out of character for me, and he would know it. “There was a mix-up with my room,” I say, which is kind of the truth. “So please tell me one of your buddies has an extra couch or something.” I don’t want to sleep on a couch. I’m so tired that I unequivocally want a bed, but I don’t want to sound needy.
Riccardo looks in the direction of the elevator, and though a part of me wonders if Avery has come back to the lobby or something, I don’t let myself look. Yeah, she’s intriguing, but that doesn’t mean this will become a thing. “I’ll ask around,” Riccardo says. “Some of the boys are already sharingbecause they’re cheapskates, but I’m sure there’s an opening somewhere.”
“Thanks, man.”
His grin widens as we stand there, and he pulls me back in for another hug. “It’s good to have you here, Bens. It’s been way too long.”
It has, which is part of the reason I worked so hard to make it here. Riccardo was one of the first guys I worked with when I started my business, and it’s thanks to him that things took off as quickly as they did. But part of the problem with being in demand is how often I’m traveling, which makes it hard to keep up with people. It hasn’t bothered me before, but the last few months have left me with a strange emptiness I don’t like. It started around the same time I came home from a long job away to an invite to Riccardo’s wedding, and it only seems to be getting worse.
I’m hoping this wedding fills some of that space, and then I’m planning on catching up with one of my old buddies as soon as I get back to the States. Try to figure out what I’m missing.
“Benson, you remember Siena, right?” Riccardo pulls me over to his gorgeous fiancée, who is Riccardo’s exact opposite in personality except for her friendly nature. She is everything sweet and calm and practical.
“Of course I remember. More beautiful than ever,” I say, lifting her hand to my lips as I give her my most charming smile.
Riccardo smacks me. “You have your own beautiful woman to fawn over. Stop flirting with mine.”
I wink at Siena, who rolls her eyes good naturedly. “Why? Afraid she’ll want to marry me instead of you?”
“Nah, but only because you’re not the marrying type. But seriously, stop holding her hand.”
“You know you’re the only man for me, Ricky,” Siena says, pulling Riccardo into a gentle kiss that he immediately intensifies, probably for my benefit.
I sigh. He really doesn’t need to be staking his claim right now, for so many reasons. I’m not the sort to step on toes when it comes to romantic interest—been there, done that—and he’s right. Marriage is about as far from my future goals as it can get.
“I’ll start asking about a place to sleep.” I leave them to it, making my way out onto the back terrace that doubles as a restaurant. Several of Riccardo’s friends and associates, many of whom I’ve worked with in years past, are out here enjoying the afternoon sun and Tuscan wine. Luckily for me, charming people—especially tipsy people—is one of my specialties, and it shouldn’t take me long to find someone with a bed to spare.
Movement catches my eye, and I look up right as Avery appears on one of the balconies looking onto the terrace. I don’t like the way my heart stumbles in my chest at the sight of her basking in the golden light, but she really is beautiful, with her reddish brown hair and the dusting of freckles on her fair skin. I can’t imagine what a week of August Italian sunshine will do for her, not just for her complexion but for her personality.
I read people for a living, and there’s someone lurking beneath the surface of Avery…whatever her last name is. The woman who used to travel and be brave? I’m willing to bet she’s still in there, and something tells me she’s more beautiful than the woman I met on the plane.
Maybe I can get the real Avery to make a longer appearance than a few seconds passing the Florence Cathedral. That Avery was sexy. And there’s nothing I like more than the challenge of helping people find their authentic selves. I’ve built my whole career around doing just that.
“Hey, you’re West, right? Worked with Riccardo when his gig was still a startup?” A baritone voice pulls my attention from Avery to a group of couples sitting at one of the closer tables.
I doubt any of them will have a bed I can use, but I approach and offer a broad smile. “That’s me.”
The man who spoke stands and shakes my hand. “I’ve been meaning to get in touch with you for a while now. Hoping you could help me with a little project I’m working on.”
