Paris Is Always a Good Idea - Jenn McKinlay Page 0,117

if you explain it to your boyfriend, he’ll understand,” he said. There was something in his tone that was off. I frowned.

“He’s not my—” I began, but Marcellino interrupted.

“Is everything all right, dolcezza?” he asked.

I sighed. I looked at Jason’s face and knew there was no way he was going to budge on this. If our positions were reversed, with this contribution to the cause to fight cancer on the table, I’d be just as stubborn.

“Yes, sorry,” I said. My voice came out strained, so I forced a smile. “Marcellino DeCapio, this is my colleague Jason Knightley.”

Without hesitation, Marcellino held out a hand to Jason. “Piacere di conoscerti,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Jason said.

“You speak Italian?” Marcellino asked. He sounded pleased.

Jason shrugged. “Mostly just enough to order wine and ask where the bathroom is.”

Marcellino laughed. “In life, what more do you need?”

I glanced between the two men. Both handsome, both smart, both charming, and I felt as if my worlds were colliding. It was unpleasant.

“If you could just point me in the direction of a place to stay, I’d appreciate it,” Jason said. He was looking at Marcellino with his most charming smile.

“Of course, but any friend of Chelsea’s is welcome to stay here,” Marcellino said. “You must take one of the guesthouses.”

“No!” I cried at the same moment Jason said, “Thanks.”

Marcellino glanced between us as if unsure whom he should listen to. I wanted to demand that he listen to me and encourage Jason to find lodging in the village. I couldn’t even imagine trying to sort out my feelings for Marcellino with Jason around, but then I glanced at Jason’s face and saw the dark circles beneath his eyes. He’d clearly been going all day and was on the brink of exhaustion. Fine, he could stay here, but only because Severin was on his way. Damn it.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Yes, absolutely, Jason, you must take one of the guesthouses.”

He gave me a suspicious look with one eyebrow raised. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” I said. I glanced at Marcellino, who was looking at me with approval. “Shall we walk him down?”

“Of course,” he said.

We waited for Jason to retrieve his small carry-on from the back of his motorcycle. He fell into step beside us, looked at me, and asked, “And where are you staying?”

“In another guesthouse,” I said. “They’re vacant because they’re about to be remodeled. We have two others set aside for Severin and Eleanor.”

“And you live on the grounds as well, Marcellino?”

Marcellino opened his mouth to answer, but I spoke first.

“He lives in the castle,” I said.

Jason made a choking noise, and Marcellino looked at him in concern. “Are you all right, Jason?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said. “Swallowed a bug.” He gave Marcellino side-eye and pointed to the stone building looming over us. “Castle, huh?”

“Yes,” I said. “He owns the castle and the vineyard, as well as an extensive olive orchard.”

Jason glanced at Marcellino as if reconsidering him. “Impressive.”

Marcellino ducked his head in humble acknowledgment and said, “Not really. Making Chianti and olive oil are the only things I know how to do.”

“But you own a castle,” Jason said.

Marcellino shrugged as if it was no big deal. He stepped ahead of us to open the door to the vacant guest cottage and went inside to turn on the lights.

Jason looked at me and asked, “Is this guy for real?”

“Yes,” I said. “Very much so.”

“Dang.” He gave me a tired smile and said, “You’d better watch it. I may make a play for him myself.”

That surprised a laugh out of me, and Jason’s eyes moved over my face with warmth and affection. It hit me then that I’d missed this. I’d missed him. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him I was glad he was here, but Marcellino called from the doorway.

“Come, dolcezza. We should let him settle. Jason, I hope you will be comfortable here,” he said.

Jason turned away from me and entered the adorable cottage. It was exactly like mine, small with one bedroom, a full bath, a tidy living room and kitchenette combo, and a small veranda that overlooked the vineyard. Done in pale shades of blue with a wooden-beam ceiling and modern furniture, it reminded me of a mini version of the castle.

“I’m so tired I could sleep out in the field,” Jason said. “But this is infinitely better. Thank you.”

He held out his hand, and Marcellino shook it warmly. It was different from their first handshake. This