Page 15 of Bella Rosa
Yes. Why? Why do I trust this man?
I don't know. This makes no sense.
I don't understand, but I reach my hand out to take his anyway, because that truth is drowning out every other reservation trying to take control.
I hope he can’t feel how fast my heart is beating. I’m pressed so closely to his back I’m sure he can feel it. Please don’t be able to feel it. I haven't been on a Vespa since I was fourteen. I have no idea why I agreed to get on this thing. For some reason I decided I trusted him enough to take a ride.
I did learn one thing about myself tonight though, I do trust Matteo Moretti. Even though I've only known him for a few days, I trust him. I saw the look of pure determination in his eyes. I knew he wouldn't let anything happen to me. Apparently my heart didn't get the memo though. I'm afraid if it beats any faster it will jump out of my chest.
The wind is whipping around us as we fly down the little road on the outside of the city. We’ve been on the road for about twenty minutes so we should be there soon. I don’t know if I’m excited or disappointed about the ride coming to an end to be honest. Even though I'm absolutely terrified of riding on a Vespa, I have actually somewhat enjoyed myself.
It's not the ride itself I'm afraid of, it's the memories of my last ride that scare me. Matteo has been true to his word though. He has actually been pretty careful. Plus, being on the back of his Vespa with him… that’s the best part.
We arrive at the restaurant a few minutes later. I dread pulling the helmet off because I know my hair will be a mess underneath. Poor Juli put all that work into the beautiful braids for nothing. As we pull into a parking spot, Matteo cuts the engine.
I hesitantly release my death grip from around his middle. If I was hurting him he didn’t mention anything. Although I’m sure it would take a lot to hurt the man. He has quite the six pack hiding under his shirt. I did my best to keep my hands from exploring, but I'm only human. And let me tell you, hot damn.
He moves to hold out his hand to help me off the scooter. I wiggle my way off in the most unladylike manner imaginable, and he has the audacity to stand so gracefully it makes me wonder if he has ever taken dance lessons. Show off. He reaches over to unbuckle my helmet. "Did you enjoy the ride?"
My eyes snap up to meet his as I work hard to fix my hair. "Excuse me?" Why did my mind go there? He asked a perfectly innocent question.
"Was the Vespa ride as scary as you thought it would be?" He has the audacity to laugh at me. Or with me. I can’t be sure because I am indeed laughing at myself.
Right. Innocent question. "It wasn’t that bad. It was actually quite enjoyable." A smile slips free when I see the sparkle in his eyes at my reply. He gets my bag from the storage compartment and hands it to me. Thankfully our fingers don’t touch. I don't think I can handle his heat. We turn to walk into the restaurant, neither of us willing to admit something is blooming between us.
We walk in to find a small room with eight tables and a small walk up bar at the back of the room. The walls are covered in light tan and sage green patterned wallpaper. There’s a small hostess stand to the right with a beautiful blonde standing behind it.
She smiles when she sees us. Her smile grows even brighter when she sees Matteo. I have the sudden urge to take his hand so I can stake my claim. I somehow manage to stop myself before I completely ruin our little pact. Business only. Right. I can do that. Hopefully.
"Do you have a reservation?" She says without breaking eye contact with Matteo.
He doesn’t pay her any mind however when he answers her. "Yes, under Rosalie Auclair. Let Mario know Matteo Moretti is here if you don’t mind."
She doesn’t take kindly to being ignored. She gives a very childish little huff before she grabs some menus and starts walking into the main dining room area. "Right this way."
Matteo shocks me by placing his hand at the small of my back to guide me to our table. The hostess gives another little huff—I’m sure she was delightful as a child—and walks away. We take our seats. I flinch when our feet touch under the small two-seater table. The fabric of his pants rub against my bare calf. I try and fail not to squirm under his touch. Either Matteo doesn’t notice or he chooses to spare me the humiliation.
We each pick up our menu and start to look over the selection. Matteo doesn't even look up when he reads off his recommendations from the menu. I'm actually glad he is here. Most of the menu is in Italian. I nod my head at him as I pull out my notebook and camera from my bag. A moment later a waiter and another man appear at our table. The other man is average in every way. Average height, build, age, and looks. He would make a great spy as he would blend right into a crowd.
"Matteo! It’s been so long! I’m so glad you got to come out to see me. And you brought such a beautiful young lady with you." He looks over at me and reaches down to take my hand. He kisses it and continues to hold it with one hand while he motions to Matteo with the other. "I'm so happy you are here."
Matteo stands to give him a proper handshake. "Mario! So good to see you. The new menu looks great."
Mario gestures to me. "Aren’t you going to introduce me to your lovely lady friend?"
I can feel the air thicken around Matteo. He obviously doesn’t know what to say to that. Typical.
I take matters into my own hands. "I’m Rosalie. Matteo is so kindly giving me a food tour of the area for a magazine article I’m writing."
Mario gives us a big smile and brings his hands together in front of him like he's praying. "What magazine do you write for? This is just marvelous! Such great timing too! We just released our new menu!"
"I work for Foodie. I'm so excited to try one of your famous casseroles."
"Oh how wonderful! I hope you enjoy your dinner. I’ll have some wine brought out for you both. On the house." Mario gives us a little bow and walks back toward the door that seems to lead into the kitchen.
Matteo sits back down and we both place our orders. After the waiter leaves I busy myself taking notes and photos while we wait for our salads. I want to make sure I really capture the essence of the place.
When I first arrived in Italy I thought I would only write about the food, but now I just don't think that would do the chefs justice. I need to show the entire picture. The atmosphere, the people, and the food. I look up to glance around the restaurant to see if I want to take a photo of anything else before the food comes. I catch Matteo staring at me. "What? Is there something on my face?" I start running my fingers over my face to find the culprit.
