Turn of the Moon (Royal Shifters #1)(68)

“Just making you look sexy and desirable, cara mia.”

I looked over my shoulder at him for meaning. His eyes glanced to our right, to a table by the window. The man from the plaza sat by himself, and his gaze was locked on us. His eyes shifted away as soon as he caught me catching him.

“Me or you?” I asked.

“Trust me—he’s not my type. And I’m definitely not his. He’s straighter than a nun’s ruler and can’t take his eyes off you.”

On its own volition, my gaze returned to the guy who could have anyone in this bar, but sat alone. He stared out the window now. Alberto had to be mistaken. He was too pretty to be straight. And even if, by the smallest chance, he was into girls, it didn’t matter. The intriguing thought of a one-night-stand on my last night here made my stomach do an excited little flip, but I shut the thought down immediately. Thinking like that would get me in trouble, as it always did.

Throughout the night, however, he proved Alberto right. Every now and then I’d feel the burn of someone watching me, and when I turned, his eyes would flit away. The one time they didn’t, I began to make my way to his table to ask him to join us, but he gave a slight shake of his head and turned to gaze out the window. I hadn’t caught his eye again the rest of the night. Probably for the better. The way my body reacted to him meant not only trouble, but Trouble with a capital T.

“I believe the sun rises soon,” Alberto said some time later when the bar had essentially cleared out. We sat in a booth, his arms spread out on the seatback across from me, over Bruno’s shoulders. Bruno’s head lolled a little to the side as he obviously fought the desire to pass out. “You finally succeeded in closing the bar down, Leni.”

“You worked my ass off, Alberto. I deserved one night to party.”

“You forget about Rieti and Pizzoli?” he asked, referring to the couple of Saturday nights we partied in our hotel. “And last week, right here at Alonzo’s?”

I giggled. “Okay, okay. But still. My last night here, and I don’t want it to end.”

“Ah, cara mia, it’ll always be here,” he pointed to my forehead, “and here.” He pointed to my heart.

“Thank you, Alberto,” I said solemnly, “for taking the chance with me.”

“No, thank you, Leni. You did me a favor.”

I rolled my eyes, knowing this wasn’t exactly true. He could have found a much more qualified replacement if he hadn’t been pressured into taking me. I picked up my martini glass and raised it in a sloppy toast—half my drink sloshed over my hand.

“To you, Alberto, for making my dream come true. And to Uncle Theo.”

“Who?” he asked as he clinked his glass against mine, more sticky liquid spilling over my hand.

“Uncle Theo, of course. The one who made you bring me on.”

Alberto’s brow wrinkled, as if he’d never heard of the man.

“My great-uncle. Your father’s best friend from way back. He talked you in to giving me this chance, remember? Probably even paid you to do it.” I tried to remind him of how he couldn’t stop talking about Theo when I’d first arrived, how much he admired him and would do anything for the man, but Alberto shook his head. I laughed as I stood on unsteady legs. “Okay. I think you’ve had too much to drink.”

“And you have a train to catch in a few hours.” He stood and pulled Bruno out of the booth. With one arm holding Bruno up, he gathered me into a hug. “Take care, Leni. It has been a true pleasure.”

“You, too, Alberto. And I mean it. Thank you for everything. I’ll tell Uncle Theo you were an outstanding host and a terrific boss.”

He gave me a squeeze and then let me go to rub his jaw. “And don’t forget sexy. Is this Uncle Theo guy single?”

I fought a shudder. I didn’t want to think that way about eighty-three-year-old Uncle Theo. How could Alberto even say such a thing?

“Go,” I said, shoving on his shoulder and making him stumble. For a moment, I thought he and Bruno were both going down, but they caught themselves. We all cracked up with inebriated laughter. “You need to get to bed before you forget me or even Bruno.”

I watched as they left with more tears stinging my eyes.

“Ah, finally, I can close up,” Alonzo said from behind the bar as I grabbed my duffle bag.

I hadn’t realized everyone else had left. My eyes automatically glanced over at the table by the window. Of course, the guy was gone. But sitting on his table was my wine bottle with a single white rose in it, like the ones the audience had tossed at me earlier. I said goodbye to Alonzo and grabbed the bottle on my way out.

Back in my room at the little inn, I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, the stunning face with the enrapturing blue eyes wavered behind my eyelids. After updating Facebook with tonight’s pictures and seeing if Mira had put up a rare status update—no, she hadn’t—I sat in my bed and stared at the rose in the bottle perched on the windowsill. Of the whole time I’d been in Italy, even the whole week I’d been in this village, why did he show up on my last night? Why not sooner, when we might have had a chance to meet, to get to know each other? He’d been the only person to truly catch my eye and I his.

Well, I thought maybe I’d caught his attention. It was hard to know for sure, the way he kept looking away. Maybe I reminded him of someone, maybe even his wife. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were married, which would explain his strange behavior. You’re being ridiculous. I shook my head. It didn’t matter if he was married or not, or if the interest was mutual. I would never see him again and that was that.