Italian Kisses: A Billionaire Love Story Part 25

I really couldn't wait for all of this to be over, though. Couldn't wait to just be with him, no complications, no evil professors. Just the two of us.

"Now I just need to make sure that Isabella will help," I said.

"From what you've told me about her, I have a good feeling that she'll agree to it."

Isabella was the lynchpin. If she didn't agree to help, the whole thing would just collapse in on itself.

"I'm going to ask her today," I said, spooning more gelato into my mouth. This time I made myself savor it.

I met with Isabella at the library cafe later that afternoon. I'd been so nervous about it that I'd arrived 20 minutes early.

My cinnamon cookie sat on its napkin, two token bites taken out of it. My cold latte still filled more than half the disposable cup, the protective collar around it useless.

Isabella arrived wearing a stylish red pashmina to ward off some of the chill that threaded through the air of the Roman fall.

"So what is it you wanted to talk about?" she asked, sitting beside me.

"Are you planning on attending the fundraiser on Sat.u.r.day?" I asked.

"Yes, the baron invited me and I thought it would give me an excuse to wear this lovely dress I just bought."

Isabella could make a burlap sack with holes for her head and arms cut out of it look good. The little joke helped calm some of the b.u.t.terflies filling me up.

"Do you still want to help me deal with Dr. Aretino?" I asked, my throat closing up around the question so that I had to fight to get it out.

"Of course! But I thought that you wanted to do this all on your own?"

"Let's just say that I've learned that it's okay to ask other people for help."

She smiled. "Liam did this teaching, yes? Now tell me, what does this have to do with the fundraiser?"

I explained the plan to her, telling her the role I hoped she could fill. Her friendly smile turned into a mischievous one by the end of it, which gave me a jolt of adrenaline as I thought that she might actually agree to it.

"That sounds like fun. Of course I will do this for you, Emma."

I bit down on my lip until it hurt. Again, I had to make absolutely certain. "But what about the baron? Won't he be jealous? Won't it upset him?"

Isabella turned her palms up, "He will find it delicious, if I tell him to. He does whatever I ask, remember?"

I did. If an actual, honest-to-G.o.d aristocrat couldn't withstand Isabella's charm, there was no way in h.e.l.l Dr. Aretino stood any chance.

See? It will work, I heard Liam's voice say.

Though as I sat there with Isabella, going over the details to make sure she understood them, I realized something else. Something that boosted my confidence immeasurably.

Even if this whole scheme failed, even if it fell apart as soon as it started, I would still have Liam. And somehow that made everything better, soothing my nerves, was.h.i.+ng away my cynicism.

So long as I had Liam, so long as he still wanted me and loved me like I wanted and loved him, nothing else really seemed to matter as much as it used to.

Don't get me wrong, I still wanted to finish out my semester in Rome. I still wanted to beat Dr. Aretino, wanted to make certain that he didn't try what he tried with me with anymore of his students.

I guess that what had really changed about me was that despair I'd been under before I met him.

I wanted to live life again. So long as I could live it with him. Funny how your life can change when you're not expecting it to, and in far less time than I thought possible.

"What are you thinking about?" Isabella asked, noticing the change that came over me.

"Liam," I replied.

"I thought so. I have to say, I'm excited for your plan."

I cringed, all my nice thoughts still not enough of a buffer against my nerves. "I hope it works."

Chapter 21.

Those final three days pa.s.sed both faster than I thought possible and slower than I feared.

It didn't help that Liam kept getting calls. On his cell, on his hotel line. They came half a dozen times each day.

"It's about Ma.s.s Systems, isn't it?" I asked once.

"Yes. Sometimes it feels like I run the whole show myself. Like I used to when it first started," he replied.

We were in my flat, him on my bed, me in my chair, notes for my Raphaelite Painters cla.s.s exam glowing on my laptop screen.

I kept cycling through everything. Study for an exam. Work on a paper. Go over the details of the fundraiser plan in my head. It never ended.

A tray of fresh rolls and buns sat on my desk beside my laptop. Studying gifts from Mrs. Rosselini, who insisted (flour drifting from her ap.r.o.n the whole time) that the key to being prepared for any big task meant being well fed.

The baked goods smelled delicious. Mouth-watering, even. I wanted to eat the whole tray myself, but I couldn't.

Normally I couldn't resist the warmth of fresh-baked goodies, but nerves and worry both compressed my stomach down to the size of my fist.

This was unfortunate, because even though I felt hungry I didn't have an appet.i.te. This, combined with the aforementioned nerves and a short fuse, mixed into a mood I like to call Hangry. Hungry and angry at the same time. It's about as pretty and pleasant as it sounds.

"Why don't you just go if you're so important to them?" I snapped. I regretted it right away, but in my stubbornness I didn't apologize.

This earned me a solid, unblinking stare. "Because I made sure to hire capable people, for one. And more importantly, I want to be here with you."

I wilted beneath the heat of that gaze. "Fine. You're right. I'm sorry. It's just getting to me, is all. It's all piling down on my shoulders and it feels like it's about to crush me."

Liam stood up, my bed springing beneath him. He came around to my side of the desk. Then he plucked a roll from the tray and offered it to me. It smelled so good.

"Eat. You'll feel better."

"I don't think I can keep anything down." If it even goes down in the first place.

"You can. Here, take it."

I decided to humor him. I took one bite, then another. Mrs. Rosselini used a closely guarded family recipe. I swear the secret ingredients included illegal drugs. Before I knew it I'd finished that first roll and started a second.

"How'd you do that?" I asked.

He winked.

There was no way I would have made it through those last few days without Liam. I would have spontaneously combusted.

In addition to being my personal waiter, he also made sure I took lots of study breaks. They usually started with a kiss and quickly progressed to the bed. Or any flat surface that could hold us.

And in my desperation for some sort of escape, I ended up taking a lot of study breaks.

I wanted that stupid fundraiser to be over with. However, I also wanted it to never happen. Maybe make time freeze in place so that I could avoid in indefinitely.

But time dragged me closer and closer no matter how unwilling I became. And then Friday turned into Sat.u.r.day.

Chapter 22.

I wore the same red dress that I had on at the fundraiser where I met Liam. He'd offered to take me out and buy me a new one, but I declined. It felt right to wear this one.

I liked it because it reminded me of where I'd been and how far I'd come. The last time I wore it I'd been a different person. A person I hadn't liked very much, a person about to give up.

However, it also reminded me that it is possible to change. To become a better version of you. Besides, I thought I looked pretty cute in it. Especially with my hair done up.

This fundraiser didn't take place in the same hall as the last one, though. That one had been grand and decadent with its faux Cla.s.sical styling.

This one took place in the main hall of the St. Regis hotel. Another five star place. Also cla.s.sically presented, but I found myself liking it more than the last place. It was sumptuously decorated, the many tables covered in lush, creamy tablecloths with candelabra set in the middle.

I couldn't help but look at the lovely crown molding, the heavy drapes the accented the arched windows. Even the staircase was better, winding up and up with a rectangle of s.p.a.ce in the middle so that you could see the fresco on the vaulted ceiling.

Unlike the last s.h.i.+ndig, this one didn't have a dance floor. I wondered if Dr. Aretino had anything to do with that. I suspected that he might have.

Then you also had your standard fare tuxedo-wearing waiters. A small orchestra played beneath the stage against the far wall, the backstage covered by curtains bearing the logo of Sapienza University.

At the moment, the microphone stand stood by itself on that stage. The wires leading from it to the backstage area caught my eye, but I couldn't watch for long.

"Stunning, Emma. Yes, so very stunning," Dr. Aretino said. He'd applied extra oil to his hair tonight so that it gleamed under the light. He'd insisted that we walk in arm-in-arm. Now that we stood in the hall he didn't want to let go, either, his hand holding mine to the crook of his elbow.

"Thanks," I said, trying to look out through the crowds of people for those familiar faces I wanted so much to see.

If Isabella and her baron beau had arrived, I couldn't find them. Liam had yet to arrive as well. And Dr. Aretino's wife was also absent. Though that made sense. Liam had the invitation sent to her doctored slightly to make sure she arrived in the middle of things.

Though I was quite pleased to see that most of the Arts faculty had showed up. Professor Di Cenzo chatted with a knot of well-dressed people over to our left. My other professors also made themselves known. And I saw the dean sitting at a table in the far corner.

The stage was set, it seemed.

I wished then that things were different. That there was no scheme. That it could be just me and Liam out to a nice dinner together, enjoying each other's company.

"I am so glad you decided to accept my invitation," Dr. Aretino said. He pulled me closer. "You are the most beautiful woman in the room," he continued, not bothering to hide the look in his eyes.

Where are you, Liam? I thought, looking back towards the entrance. "Thanks. That's nice," I said.

"Come, our seats are this way," he said. He lead me past several groups of people, winding between those tables with their white cloths until we reached ours. It was close to the middle of the room. He pulled out my chair for me and I thanked him again. He took his time, and also made sure to pull it out a little too far so that I had to bend more than I wanted.

It all really added up to me feeling no pity for him and what he had coming.

And that leads me to the plan. It was simple. Really simple. So long as Isabella and Dr. Aretino's wife arrived.

It was a two-p.r.o.nged attack. First, his wife would get to see what sort of man he really was. Second, and this was the more complicated bit that depended on just how good Isabella was, his work colleagues would get an earful of what he really thought of them.

And with an arrogant, self-absorbed man like Dr. Aretino, I knew that they wouldn't like what he thought about them.

"Perhaps after this you would like to accompany me for some champagne?" Dr. Aretino asked. His hand slipped beneath the tablecloth and his knuckles brushed against my thigh.

I jerked and stood up. It's okay, just get through it, I thought. "I'm sorry. My leg went numb. The chair biting into my thighs, I guess."

"Yes, they are cruel to your flesh, are they not?" Dr. Aretino said, smiling as I sat down.

I swallowed against my rising gorge, suddenly happy that I hadn't been able to eat anything before coming out.

I wondered how long I'd have to sit there and wait.

Thankfully, not too long. Liam arrived not long after that. He caught my eye from across the room and nodded. My heart started racing, and I let myself really begin to believe that this could work.

With Liam here, that meant that Dr. Aretino's wife couldn't be far behind. Which meant that Isabella needed to hurry up and be here, too.

"So you have been studying for your exams?" Dr. Aretino asked. I realized I'd been looking away from him for several minutes now.

Don't make him suspicious, I thought. Even though I knew that he couldn't know anything about this, I still worried.

"Yes. I think I'm about ready," I said, trying to keep our s.n.a.t.c.hes of conversation as brief as possible.