I couldn’t decide if the words were meant as a dig or not, but either way, he didn’t make a point to continue the conversation.
Katerina leaned forward, salvaging the moment. “Right, well Georgie was just telling me about her childhood. Apparently she grew up on an estate in England!”
Massimo waggled his brows. “What, are you royalty or something?”
My throat tightened up. “Or something,” I emphasized. “It’s no big deal.”
“Wait, so are you titled?”
Technically, I was a lady by birth, but I’d die before telling them that. I decided to sidestep the question. “My father was a duke, and now my brother has the title.”
“What’s your last name?” Massimo asked.
“Archibald.”
“Shut up!” Katerina said, dropping her wine glass on the table and turning to me with her full attention. “I knew I’d seen you on the telly back home in England! You’re Freddie Archibald’s sister?”
I gulped down another sip of wine, bored with this conversation. I’d had it countless times over my life.
“It’s no big deal, really. I went to snooty private schools and had to put up with real arsehole girls my whole life. I’d have much rather grown up in Vernazza,” I said, smiling at Massimo.
He shook his head. “It’s not fun when you’re a teenager and there’s no decent night life. Now I’ve come to appreciate it, but I used to want to leave as soon as I was old enough.”
“But you stayed?” I asked, curious about his decision.
He nodded and turned to Gianluca. “I changed my mind when Luca moved back a few years ago. I decided the grass was probably no greener anywhere else.”
As if sensing that he was about to be the subject of the conversation, Gianluca held up his hand for the waitress and requested another beer.
It went on like that all through dinner. Massimo, Katerina, and I would carry the conversation and Gianluca would sit quietly, sipping his beer or eating his food as if we weren’t there. He wasn’t exactly brooding, just quiet and far more comfortable with the attention away from him.
It was just my luck. The person I wanted to get to know the most was the least forthcoming with information. Still, any chance I got, I stole glances at him and tried to pick apart the details that lured me closer. More than anything else, he had a warmth to him. His days were spent outside and it showed. His skin had a rich tan and he carried a comforting scent I associated with childhood: warm summer days and salty sea air. His hands were big, rough, and calloused. His forearms, the bit that showed beneath his rolled shirt sleeves, were coiled with tight muscles.
He picked up his beer and brought it to his lips, the only part of him that could have been called soft. They were full and bowed in the center. When he dropped it back to the table, his eyes flicked up to me and I turned away quickly, aware I’d been staring for too long.
“So what brings you to Italy then, Georgie?” Massimo asked. “Vacation?”
Maybe if I hadn’t been on my third glass of wine, I’d have nodded and replied with some response about wanting to experience summer in the Italian Riveria, but Gianluca was finally looking up at me, waiting for my answer, and I didn’t want to lie to him.
“I’m here to find a husband.”
Katerina nearly spit out her sip of wine. “You’re what?”
I laughed, but Gianluca didn’t. A quick glance back at him proved that he’d narrowed his eyes on me, curious and maybe even a bit annoyed by my answer.
“I mean, there’s a bit more to it than that, but that’s basically the gist of it.”
“You’re going to have to explain,” Katerina said, filling up my wine glass. I didn’t protest. The sauvignon blanc was chilled and delicious, the best I’d ever had.
“Okay,” I relented, staring down at the stem of my wine glass as I spun it between my fingers. “Well, for the last few years, my mum has done her best to set me up with every terrible bloke in the northern hemisphere. She thinks it’s crazy that I’m still single at twenty-six and I’d had enough of her matchmaking—”
“So you up and fled the country? Why couldn’t you just tell her you weren’t interested in being set up anymore?” Katerina asked.
“It’s not that simple. My mum is very persistent…” I decided to leave out the details of our family’s tragic few years, skipping over all the reasons it was so hard to say no to her. “And I knew it made her happy, so I just sort of went along with it.”
“So why here, why now?”
Gianluca had finally spoken again, directly to me, and I tried my best not to make a show of how excited it made me. I turned to him with a shrug.
“Well she won’t rest until I’m married off, so I had to get away, and to be honest, it’s not like I wanted to go on living life alone either. I figured if I got out of London, I could test things on my own. Go on dates I’ve set up, that sort of thing.”
“And you like Italian men?” Katerina asked, nudging my shoulder suggestively.
“I’ve hardly gotten a chance to get to know him—them.”
I blushed and stared down at my wine glass.
The conversation felt so personal, like I was practically throwing myself on Gianluca or something. I was ready to shift things back onto someone else, but Katerina spoke up first.
“Have you got a list of requirements, then? A type?”