Page 126 of Marcello

When the hotel phone by the bed jangled loudly.

I fumbled for the receiver. “…hello…?”

“Hello, sir, this is reception. Checkout time was at 11, and we wanted to notify you there will be a 200-euro charge if – ”

“CHARGE me, then,” I barked into the phone and slammed it back down.

Christ.

I wasn’t that irritated about being woken up.

It was that the dream about Giulietta had just gotten good.

I lay there for a few minutes, then put 2 and 2 together.

If it was already past 11, then…

I stumbled to my feet, found my phone in my pants, and checked the screen.

Two missed calls and seven text messages from Cesare…

But not a single one from Giulietta.

“Fuckin’ great,” I muttered as I dialed my boss.

He answered immediately. “Where the fuck ARE you?!”

“It was a rough night,” I mumbled.

“Well, we’re doing the fuckin’ run-through, and YOU’RE LATE!”

He meant everybody was practicing for the Amato compound.

Which the rest of us had practiced dozens of times, and Cesare had only attended twice before today. He was too busy fucking skanks and getting drunk at three in the afternoon.

“Sorry,” I said without any enthusiasm. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Get here NOW!” he roared before hanging up on me.

I clenched my teeth and flipped the bird at the phone.

Fucking psychopathic douchebag – YOU’RE the one who’s always late, and the ONE time I’m not there fucking WAITING for you –

I stopped myself and calmed down.

Fuck him.

He wasn’t going to ruin what had been the best night of my life.

I called room service, ordered breakfast, and told them to leave it in the living area of the suite.

Then I went in and took a shower.

Before I stepped into the water, I caught a whiff of Giulietta’s perfume on my skin.

That, and the scent of her pussy on my cock.

Fuuuuuck.