What could be said of paybacks?
They come around unexpectedly, and with undertones of satisfaction if they result with the premeditated intentions...
Knocking on Bianca's front door bright and early, quarter past 3:00 a.m., Massimo felt nothing short of triumphant. He considered winning cases in court at the top of his list of accomplishments. Waking up stubborn Miss Bianca Foxx when she least expected it topped that list by a mile.
Did he decide to go out of his way to bring out her obviously Italian temper? Yes, though he did not consider his actions to be selfish - nor carrying any ulterior motives. He was not interested in her. Or any relationship for that matter. Especially a long distance one. He was simply paying her back for being rude to him. Why? He was not a fan of regret. And he was well aware that when he returned to the United States, he would have regretted not paying his companion back for her actions.
With the thought lingering in his mind, he stood at Bianca's front door, knocking on it over and over. And over. Until the door opened with a strong overexaggerated swing, bringing to view a furious grimace of one sleep deprived Signorina. And so much more...
"Have You lost Your mind?!?" Bianca hissed out with a temper Massimo was actually looking forward to.
"No," he smiled, unbothered. "Have You lost track of time?"
"Il porco!" She retorted, swinging the door shut in his face.
Massimo grinned, glad his plan worked like a charm, and knocked on the door once more. She opened it again, though just by an inch, leaving the choice of leaving or entering to him. He grinned wider, and stepped inside. "I would ask You not to call me a pig. I tend to take insults personally."
"Ha!" She puffed out air with sarcasm, limping her way up the stairs to the kitchen area. She did not bother to turn around to see if he would follow her. She knew he would. "I tend to take rude midnight invasions of privacy personally."
"Visiting my travel companion is not an invasion of privacy." He retorted stoically as he closed the front door behind him. He waited by the door before following in her footsteps. It was a good idea to give her a moment to cool off. It was an even better one to allow himself to cool off from the sight of her long off-white embroidered silk nightgown that left little to imagination.
"What do You want, Toscana? Don't You know it's rude to barge in on people without advance notice?" She hissed out, limping toward the espresso maker.
"Duly noted. You should have take note of it as well." He clicked his tongue, trying his best not to stare.
"Note taken." She gazed at him with disgust. "You did not answer my question. What are You doing here?"
"Making sure we leave on time for the first leg of our trip around Italy."
"You want to leave for Milan at this hour?!?" She paused half-movement while reaching for an espresso cup from the cupboard.
He tipped his head, paying as much attention as he could to her words, given the fact he was staring at her. He was man enough to admit to himself that he was. And there was little he could do about it. Reminding himself he was not looking for a relationship, for the second time that morning, he swallowed hard and blinked at the sight of Bianca in the silk nightgown with her long dark hair cascading down her exposed back. "What's wrong with this hour?"
"Everything." She whispered under her breath. "I should sue You for disturbing my peace."
"Back at You," he said before he could stop himself, clearing his throat.
"Toscana, You wanted to go to Milan. We're going to Milan today. Why on earth do You want to leave at this hour?"
"Crowd control."
"What?" She grimaced, mocking him.
"I don't like crowds." He explained as he walked toward her, reaching over her head to retrieve an espresso cup for himself. "I'm not a people person."
"What kind of a lawyer are You if You are not a people person?" She tipped her chin up in defiance. And realized he was too close to her. Much too close.
"I'm a Corporate Lawyer." He looked down her lips, then moved away, swearing to himself on the inside. What good was a payback if it backfired in his face? Did he accomplish ruffling Bianca's feathers? Yes. But she just ended up ruffling his.
"Figures," she puffed out air. "I haven't packed yet."
"I have. And I checked out of the bed and breakfast. I don't consider coming back to Rome for anything more than the flight back to the States if we return according to my itinerary."
"Itinerary?" She mocked him, secretly impressed he would have planned out what he intended to see. Her practical side couldn't help it. Moreover, if the man already planned on leaving Italy in a timely manner, she was reassured she would not have to deal with him any longer than she had to.
"Yes. If we leave now, we should arrive in Milan by morning. I would like to enjoy strolling around the Duomo di Milano at sunrise. Parking should not be a problem so early in the day if we want to be close to the center, especially in Your condition."
"You... may be right." She agreed, reluctantly. "Give me a moment to pack and we can leave soon."
"Fine," he smirked, pointing at her. "But You might want to reconsider Your choice of clothes before we head out. It's a bit chilly out there."
"What?" She raised her eyebrow, slowly looking down at what she was wearing. And she froze, feeling utterly self-conscious. "Piccante!"
"What?" He tried hiding the smirk, though with limited success.
"You should have said something!" She exclaimed and rushed into her bedroom.
"Your house, Your rules, Lady Foxx. I'm not aware of Your routines. For all I know You prefer greeting Your house guests wearing barely-there gowns." He might as well have considered their trip being a success already. He certainly enjoyed its beginning.
"Rude!"
"Never." He denied the notion. "I am simply stating the obvious. Trust me, if it were my house I would make my rules known."
"I would call You a pig, but I guess You would have taken it as a compliment right now," she called out from her bedroom.
"We'll never know, since You hadn't called me that," he smiled. He looked around the kitchen and the adjacent dining room. The rooms were practical and... furnished in a style he would describe as office-like. No personal mementos. No photos, aside from the small frame on the counter depicting Bianca and an elderly nonna he recognized as Gia Foxx. It surprised him that the house looked more like a formal space taken out of a catalog magazine rather than a home that had been lived in. And somehow, it matched Bianca to a 'T'.
"All right. I'm packed," Bianca announced her presence, catching him off guard. "I hate to say it, but would You mind taking the travel backpack down to the car? I'd have a hard time doing it myself with these darn crutches."
"You fit everything You'll need into a backpack?" He wondered, impressed. "Women I know would need at least a full size luggage for the week - not taking into consideration a carry-on for shoes."
"Well, what I am taking into consideration is the walkways and staircases in Italy. I'm a local. Take it from me, a travel backpack will be easier for Your back than a suitcase," Bianca noted as she washed their espresso cups, placing them on the drying rack.
"On my back?" He raised his eyebrow.
"Well, it certainly won't be on mine. You signed me up for this trip. All-inclusive might I add. This includes taking care of my luggage," she pointed out with a smile he hadn't seen before.
"I guess I should have defined my terms more clearly."
"You should have," her smile widened as she took the crutches into her hands, yet did not bother to place them in their intended place. "Andiamo, Piccante. Let's go. Let's not have Your itinerary wait for us any longer."
"Why do I get the feeling You won't let me lead the way?" He picked up the travel backpack and followed her downstairs.
"Because I won't. And pick up Your pace. It's a pity You can't catch up to me, especially in my condition," she called out to him over her shoulder, repeating his words in the most refined mocking tone that brightened up her mood in an instant...