Page 4 of Her Italian Wedding (Sweet Treats 9)

I nod. Social distancing can take many forms, from school closures to stand-alone isolation hospitals. Italy has basically put their economy into a standstill while coronavirus rips through the fabric of their society, but it’s for a good cause. They need to save Europe before the sickness strikes Berlin, Paris, and London with a vengeance.

“I feel terrible because I saw a picture of St. Mark’s Square in Venice, which is usually overflowing with tourists. It was empty,” I say somberly. “There was no one there.”

“Then you have to go,” says Alizeh smartly. “To help a country in need.”

I smile ruefully at her.

“But at what expense? My health? My life?”

Alizeh shakes her head.

“I think you’re going to be fine, Melissa. Of course, I’m no doctor, but I think if you take basic precautionary measures, everything should work out. Wear a mask in public if you need to. Wash your hands for twenty seconds. Avoid anyone who’s recently been to China or Japan. But imagine the Italian Stallions on the other side of the Atlantic. They must be so lonely and depressed with this whole coronavirus thing, and your presence will help cheer them up.”

I nod.

“I know, and that’s our job, right? As daughters, we exist for the pleasure of the truckers who need us. Maybe there are fifty Italian truckers at this very moment who could use some pep. I could do the job.”

“You could,” nods Alizeh. “Hey, maybe I should go along too!”

“No,” I laugh. “Our lodge is only sending one girl, and I’ve already volunteered. It’s fine. But if we need anyone, I’ll definitely tell them to give you a ring,” I say.

My friend smiles.

“Okay, sounds good. Eat lots of pasta while you’re there,” she winks at me.

I giggle, and then we went our separate ways that day. But now, it’s really happening. It’s my going-away party, and I’m wearing a white blouse, red skirt, and a green bow in my hair in order to honor my new country. There are streamers, balloons, and even a big cake in the colors of red, white and green. We talk gaily while devouring cannoli and sipping cappuccinos. But in the back of my mind, I wonder if I’m really ready. After all, I’m leaving everything I know in order to meet Italian stallions. Will the country deliver, or will I be a lonely girl lost in a foreign land? There’s only one way to find out.

2

Melissa

Oh wow. The hotel lobby is beautiful but deserted. I look around the palatial interior and take a deep breath. Evidently, Milan is suffering from a dearth of tourists, just like Venice.

“Hello,” I say to the receptionist with a bright smile. “Melissa Knight, checking in.” She has bright blonde hair swept into a low bun, and a face mask on. Ugh. Her fingers type at the keyboard while searching for the reservation, but then I feel something come up behind me. There’s a frisson in the air, and a hot chill runs down my back.

Immediately I turn and see the two most gorgeous men I’ve ever set eyes upon. They’re both at least six four, with inky black hair and penetrating blue eyes. They have chiseled jaws and wide shoulders that look like they could mow down a house.

“Signorina Knight?” asks one in a low growl. “I’m Domenico, and this is my friend Matteo. We’re from the Milan Lodge.”

I nod while growing hot inside.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” I say while sticking out my hand for a shake. My tiny palm disappears into their huge grips and I feel dazzled while I look into their blue eyes, as if I’ve been out in the sun too long. “I just got off the plane,” is my babbled reply. “I’m just checking in now.”

“Perfect,” says Matteo with a small bow. “The Continental Hotel is one of the nicest places in Milan to stay.” With many men, a bow would come off as ridiculous or even worse, condescending. But his Italian air gives it a chivalrous feel, and I feel myself heating up inside all over again. It’s like I’m Snow White meeting Prince Charming for the first time. Or two Prince Charmings, for that matter. Domenico grins as the receptionist hands me my key.

“May we escort you to your room, Signorina?” he asks courteously. “No need for a bell hop.”

I smile.

“Well, I only have that one bag over there, and my backpack,” I say.

“We’ll take them,” says Matteo while swinging the backpack easily over one shoulder. It’s a forty-pound weight that I was laboring under, but to him, it looks like nothing more than child’s play. At the same time, Domenico takes my suitcase as if it weighs nothing.

“Perfect,” he growls. “Are you ready?”

I nod.

“Ready!”

With a bright smile, we make our way across the lobby area to the elevator.

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