Page 52 of Valentino

“I bought it around two years ago. It’s more Bellagio than Lake Como.”

“I love Bellagio.”

“What’s not to love.” He puts a few more things in his overnight bag.

“We could stay here if you wanted,” I offer. “I can sleep in the spare room.”

“No, it’s fine, we will stay at yours.”

“How long do you think this will be going on?”

“It’ll be all over soon and I’ll be out of your hair.” He keeps packing as I watch him.

“All over as in….”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, Anna,” he cuts me off. He stuffs a few more things in his bag. “Have a think what you want for dinner and I’ll order it.”

“I don’t know.” I sigh, dejected by his impatience with my questioning just now.

“Do you want me to pick?”

I nod. “Okay.”

He dials a number. “Hello, it’s Valentino.” He smiles as he listens to something they say down the line. “I’ll have my usual please but double the order.” He smiles and his eyes rise to meet mine. “Perfect, ciao.” He throws his phone back onto the bed. “It will be here in about twenty minutes, why don’t you go and have a look around the apartment?”

“Okay.” You’re kind of annoying me anyway. I walk out of his bedroom and down the hallway, there’s a spare bedroom to the left. I walk in and look around. It’s nice, designed in blues. I keep going down the hall and find three more bedrooms. Five bedrooms in total and a lounge room or a living room. There’s a big slouchy couch and television, but it doesn’t look like it ever gets used. I take the stairs down to the first level and behind the main living area there’s another large corridor. I pass an office and a large gym, a steam room, and an oversized laundry room. Jeez, why is this so big? I walk in to see an industrial-size washing machine and clothes dryer.

“Why does he have giant washing equipment?” I whisper.

“To wash the bed linen,” a deep voice replies.

I turn to see him leaning on the doorjamb watching me. “How else do you wash a king quilt if you don’t have an industrial washing machine?”

I smile, feeling stupid. “I go to the launderette like a normal person.”

He chuckles. “Or an animal. Where’s my wine?” he asks.

“I took it upstairs and set it on your bedside.”

“Oh, that’s right. I’ll go grab it.”

He disappears and I walk back down the corridor toward the kitchen and stop outside his office door. It looks like an office from a movie and I smile, a deep green color with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. An antique globe of the world sits on the desk and lamps light up with an amber glow.

I walk in and sit down behind the desk, it’s oversized and made of mahogany. I imagine him sitting here and ruling the world. Moments later he appears again.

“How long have you lived here?”

“Nearly four years.”

“Whereabouts are your other places again?”

“I have a terrace house in Navigli.”

“Anywhere near the canals?”

“On the canals.” He smiles proudly.

“Oh my God, I love that place, although if I lived there I would never cook.”