*Olivia*
“What are you still doing in bed?” Dahlia asked , looking surprised to find still so disheveled.
I sighed heavily, knowing there was no way I could explain to her that I’d slept in because I was up late–because then she’d ask why I was up so late. And then I’d have to lie to her face.
Instead, I shrugged and moved aside as she ca into the room, throwing herself onto the bed I’d just vacated. I hoped she wouldn’t notice how rumpled the sheets were.
“It’s one in the afternoon, Olive. We’re in Florence! We can’t just sleep the whole day away like we would back ho.”
I sighed heavily because I knew that, on the one hand, she was right. On the other, I was still horribly jetlagged, and besides that, I was apparently cursed to have sex dreams about her cousin. I walked over to the bed and sat down next to her, lying back against the mattress and pretending to fall asleep. I fake snored, and she elbowed .
“Co on,” I groaned. “Just let sleep!”
“I know what will get you out of bed,” she sang-song happily. “I have boy news.”
I sat up and stared at her, my heart pounding. Then I realized that it was probably news about a boy she liked. There was no possible way she could know about my late night with Giovani already.
“Lorenzo texted ,” she said flirtatiously, dangling her phone in front of .
“Lorenzo?” I asked, my tired brain still not fully catching up.
She rolled her eyes and smacked on the arm, looking annoyed.
“Hello,” she emphasized. “The guy we t at the university yesterday! Tall, dark, and totally hot as shit?”
Right. Him.
“That’s great,” I told her, trying to stifle a yawn. “What did he say?”
“Well,” she drew out, looking at with a guilty expression. “He wanted to know if I’d have lunch with him.”
My eyebrows rose in apprehension, mostly because I’d seen too many movies where Arican girls get kidnapped in foreign countries.
“You just t him,” I pointed out. “Are you sure you’re comfortable going out with him alone?”
She waved off, an annoyed look crossing her face, but it was quickly replaced with a smile.
“Oh, Olive, you worry too much!” she teased. “He’s a perfectly charming guy who’s perfectly trustworthy. Besides, soone from my family’s security team is always following . Everywhere I go, there are eyes on .”
That felt very ominous, and I wondered if her family always had eyes on as well. Did anyone else know about my night in the living room with Giovani? Not that there was anything really to know. All we’d done was stay up late and talk. It was perfectly innocent, unfortunately.
“But,” she started slowly, standing up and inching toward the door, “if you’re really worried about it, you’re more than welco to co.”
I knew Dahlia well enough by now to realize that this wasn’t a genuine offer. She was asking to be nice, but no part of her wanted to accept it. I could tell by the sparkle in her eye that she liked this guy, even if he was basically a stranger.
How could I bla her? If I knew I’d have the opportunity to spend ti alone with Giovani, I’d want her to show the sa courtesy.
“Oh,” I hedged, picking at a thread on my comforter. “That’s perfectly alright. I’m probably just going to stay in and read. I found a huge library last night and–”
She held up a hand to stop , giving a chastising look. As long as we’d been friends, she had always been the adventurous party girl, and I’d always preferred quiet solitude. She’d dragged out in high school, claiming she didn’t want to beco a recluse. I expected college to be no different, but she was going to ditch either way.
“Or,” I said slowly, and her face broke into a smile. “I’ll have a self-care day. Take a bubble bath, do a face mask, maybe have a mini yoga session in the courtyard.”
She clapped her hands, much more on board with this plan. If there was one thing Dahlia loved more than hot guys, it was self-care days.
“If you look in my bathroom, you’ll find everything you need!” she smiled, before turning and walking out the door.
That was that. Dahlia was off on her Italian romance, and I was ho, wishing to find my own romance. Of course, the only person I wanted to have a steamy affair with also lived in this house, so staying ho did better my chances.
First, though, I needed sustenance to wake up. Dahlia didn’t approve of coffee on self-care days, but Dahlia was already gone. What she didn’t know wouldn’t kill her, at least in this instance. I padded down to the kitchen, looking for a pot of coffee sowhere, but found nothing.
I felt bad looking through cabinets, even if this was my temporary ho. I felt out of place in the large house, like I was an intruder. I knew the feeling would ease in ti. After all, it was only my third day there, but I was overwheld and honestly a little hosick.
A self-care day truly was what I needed to recalibrate and start to feel like I belonged here, not just in this house, but in this country. As much as I’d always fantasized about living here, the reality was different. I was still happy, but it was a lot to take in all at once. Coffee would help, if only I could find it.
“Posso aiutarla?” a woman asked from behind , making jump. I hadn’t heard her co in.
I assessed her outfit, smart khaki pants and an embroidered polo, and realized she must be one of the staff mbers.
She’d asked if she could help . Right.
“Caffe?” I asked hesitantly, not wanting her to dislike for needing help.
She smiled brightly and nodded.
“Ah, the Arican,” she said in a thick accent. “The friend, not the cousin. Signor Giovani told to get you anything you wanted.”
Sothing about the way she looked at made think that he’d said more than that, but I didn’t want to read anything into it. I was probably just imagining things.
“If you could just show where the coffee pot is, I’ll be alright,” I told her shyly.
She smiled again but began waving her arms, shooing out of the kitchen.
“No, no, no, no, no,” she said authoritatively. “You are a guest in the house. You no make coffee. I bring it up to you in your room, okay?”
I tried to protest, but she kept pushing out of the kitchen until I was standing in the hallway with nowhere to go but back to my room. This lifestyle would definitely take so getting used to.
Sure, my mom was technically the maid for Dahlia’s parents, but all she did was clean the house. As long as I’d known them, I’d never seen anyone wait on them hand and foot like this. It certainly wasn’t my experience. It almost made feel icky, like I should offer to do more. But, obviously, the woman would hear none of that.
Off I went, back to my room to wait for the coffee. I had no idea how long I would have to wait, especially if she was planning to make it the fancy, Italian way. Now that I thought about it, they probably didn’t have a standard coffee maker. I probably wouldn’t have been able to figure it out anyway.
I figured that if I was going to wait anyway, I might as well get a jump on my self-care day. I padded into Dahlia’s bathroom, raiding her counters until I found a few different kinds of face masks, bubble bath, bath bombs, and fancy salts.
As a girl of ans, all her products were much more luxurious than what I normally used at ho. My bath salts usually ca out of a bag I bought from the pharmacy, but hers were in a glass jar with a fancy gold scoop. With my arms full, I went back into my bathroom and carefully set everything out.
When I was satisfied with the setup, I turned the knob on the faucet until I figured out how the hot water ran. This was the bathtub of my dreams, a true soaking tub with enough room for to sink down into it and be completely covered by the water. Maybe it was silly, but I’d always dread of using a tub like this. It was exactly the kind of thing a princess would use.
As the water ran, I added my ingredients, feeling like I was concocting a witch’s brew. I felt silly and giddy and knew that Dahlia would one hundred percent make fun of if she were here. I didn’t care, though. I was literally living my dream.
When the bath was ready, and steam was rising from the surface, I stripped out of my clothes and tentatively slipped my foot in. The water was perfect, warm and soapy, and I carefully climbed in, luxuriating in every step. I tied my hair up with the hair tie I always kept around my wrist and sunk down until the only thing sticking out was my head. It was perfect.
The heat from the water invaded my senses and my entire body relaxed. I felt like Jell-O, all squishy and boneless. My heavy eyelids closed, and I could feel myself sinking deeper into the relaxation. I’d long forgotten about my coffee when I heard the door open.
“You can just leave the tray in my bedroom,” I called out to the maid, but I didn’t hear her leave.
When I opened my eyes, Giovani was standing in the doorway, eyeing curiously.
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