Kiss Me Goodnight in Rome (The Senior Semester Series Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

eyes.
    “Grazie.” Her eyes flit up and she smiles briefly before stepping around me.
    Her smile, even in the short moment I glimpsed it, transformed her face. I watch the girls leave the restaurant and walk down the street, the bag of biscotti swinging from the blonde’s hand. I turn back to their table and quickly begin to clear it so other patrons can sit down. The bruschetta and penne arrabiata are completely gone, pieces of bread used to sop up the extra arrabiata sauce, effectively wiping the plate clean. Good, I’m glad the blonde enjoyed her meal. I pick up the insalata caprese, confused to see only two thin slices of tomato and half a piece of mozzarella consumed. Did she not enjoy it? Did something taste off?
    Of course not! Mama prides herself on using the freshest and often organic ingredients. Maybe she’s just nervous? Adjusting to a new country? It’s obvious the American girls are here on an exchange program.
    “Table four would like to order dessert,” Simona whispers as she passes me, her breath tickling my cheek. She leans in, pressing her body against my back as she grabs the wine bottle and empty glasses from the table.
    “Okay.” I turn back into the restaurant, ignoring Simona’s advances, my thoughts preoccupied by the brunette.
    * * *
    It’s late when I finally lock the door to Angelina’s. Although I’m grateful tonight was a busy shift, I’m also beat. Things seemed to lag after the pretty brunette and her friend left. As much as I want to go home and drop into a coma, I already told Sandro I would meet him for a few drinks.
    I drive to the bar slowly, my eyes scanning the students littering the streets, falling out of bars, posing for selfies. I know it’s ridiculous, but I’m looking for her. The brunette. Is she one of the girls laughing amidst a group of friends, updating her Instagram account, taking shots of limoncello? I doubt it. She didn’t strike me as the party girl type. Still, a lot of these American study abroad students really cut loose the semester they visit Europe. For many of them, they aren’t even able to legally drink in America. Suddenly, they can drink, party, and travel—all on their parents’ credit card. Who the hell wouldn’t take advantage of that setup? I should have studied abroad when I was in university. I would have gone to New York.
    After trolling for two blocks with no sign of a petite brunette with big brown eyes (I knew it was a long-shot), I hang a left and park the car. The walk to the bar is amusing, instantly waking me up as I take in the poor, or awesome depending on how you look at it, decisions being made around me: random hookups, a few guys lighting a joint, some American kids already puking on the sidewalks. I laugh to myself, pulling open the door to a bar Sandro and I frequent.
    As soon as I enter, I spot Sandro. He’s standing at the bar, chatting up two beautiful women, an Americano dangling casually from his left hand as he gestures with his right. His face is serious, composed, giving nothing away. Typical Sandro. Getting him to crack a smile is about as easy as keeping the seat clean when pissing drunk.
    He raises his hand in welcome when he sees me, turning toward the bartender to order me a Negroni.
    “Ciao, Enzo.” Sandro greets me. “This is Aileen and Kerry.” He motions toward the two girls sitting at the bar. “They’re visiting Rome. From Ireland.” He raises his eyebrows. I can read the thoughts hidden behind his eyes. Want to fuck a couple of Irish girls?
    I nod my head, agreeing to his question. Then I turn toward the girls and smile broadly, turning on the charm. This is how it always goes. Sandro plays the role of moody and brooding, I act playful and interested, we seal the deal within an hour. “Good to meet you girls. Hope you’re having a great trip so far?”
    They nod. Kerry (or is it Ailene?) rattles off some generic observations about St. Peter’s.
    I nod in agreement. The bartender hands me