When in Rome Read Online Free PDF Page B

long has it been since you’ve had sex?” Luca asks me, peeling an orange. He stares at me, ruthless as only a man who works hard every night can be. He’s suddenly serious, as if we were talking about a disease. He swallows an orange slice and then fiddles with a crumb on the table.
    “That’s my business,” I say. “I’ll clear the table. Did you write this morning?”
    “You shouldn’t be inactive for so long. It’s not healthy. And then you run the risk of throwing yourself at the first guy who comes along. Excessive abstinence makes you a lot less selective, you know?”
    “Says the most selective of us all!” I blurt. “Don’t make me laugh.”
    “You don’t see the difference?” He seems vaguely irritated, a rarity. I think he’s even more beautiful when he’s frowning. He continues to play with the crumb and doesn’t look at me.
    “There is no difference, unless you count chauvinism.”
    “Chauvinism has nothing to do with it.” Anger tinges his voice. “The difference is that you’re a foolish girl searching for the man of your dreams, and this makes you more inclined to do something drastic. You believe in eternal love, so you’re stuck here like a jar of sun-dried tomatoes, hoping that a handsome prince will come along and put a ring on your finger. I don’t expect anything from the women I entertain, except that they have fun with me. If someone doesn’t meet my expectations, I’m not gonna go cry into my pillow.”
    “I don’t cry into my pillow!”
    “Carlotta . . .” He stops and shakes his head. “Don’t you think I know you well enough to know that you’re like a princess in search of rescue? For you, sex isn’t just a way to get pleasure. You dream of falling asleep on Prince Charming’s shoulder.”
    “Well, yeah, but—”
    “The world is chock-full of guys like me, guys that are hoping to run down the stairs the second you’re done having fun with them. These guys won’t even listen to your voice messages, and they’ll hardly remember your face, or your lisp.”
    His attitude is so defeatist. While I know he’s trying to warn me, this level of harshness is unusual. I don’t know what to say to him.
    “You’re wrong,” I say, trying to sound confident, when in fact my legs are trembling under the table. “The world is also full of men willing to offer me their shoulder to sleep on. I don’t know where they are, and they certainly don’t look like you, but sooner or later, I’ll find one. I’m sure of it—I’m not some totally helpless princess. But just because I haven’t had sex in a year doesn’t mean that I’m going to jump into bed with the first blond guy that walks by!”
    And that’s the truth.
    I must be drunk. Or maybe I’m just hurt at the thought that he’ll never be the prince whose shoulder I sleep on after a night of wild sex. Luca smiles, and he returns to his usual self. His comparison to a jar of sun-dried tomatoes was not at all flattering, but I’m too excited about my job to care. I tell him to get back to his writing. He gives me a playful slap on the cheek, then starts toward his room.
    “I feel like your older brother, like it’s my responsibility to open your eyes. Sometimes you can be too dreamy. The world sucks, my dear Carlotta.”
    “I know that all too well. Mostly thanks to you and your shining example.”
    “Well, at least my behavior has served some purpose. Now I’m going to go write. If anyone calls for me, just tell them I’m dead.”
    He keeps his writing shrouded in mystery. The pages he’s already written are kept in a locked drawer, and he’s explicitly forbidden me from using his computer. I suspect it’s probably something violently passionate, maybe even erotic, because he occasionally emerges with a wild look in his eye to ask me bizarre questions. Elected special adviser on all things female, I help him out with the mysterious protagonist, whom he describes as a cross between an L.A.