The Italian's Runaway Princess. Andrea Bolter
out administrative fire after fire in the remains of mistakes that Dante had made while he was at the helm. Mostly, though, he was still strategizing about the Francesca fiasco and its aftermath.
Still, he reiterated to himself that one of his goals when returning to Florence was to slow his pace a little and to enjoy relaxing pursuits. He worked too much; even his father thought so. A night out on the town with pretty Luci was just what the doctor ordered. Even though he had sworn never to get close to a woman again, it was only one evening. Okay, there was last night, too, but it was not as if he was going to devote his life to her.
Although when he presented a bent elbow for her to slip her arm through, he felt an unfamiliar lump at the bottom of his throat when she did so.
“Here is one of the fake Davids.” She pointed to the replica of Michelangelo’s masterpiece. “The original used to stand in this place but was moved to the Galleria dell’Accademia to protect it.”
“You’ll want to visit there.”
“There’s another replica of David in the Piazzale Michelangelo. The views of the city are supposed to be astounding from there.”
“They are.”
“And this is the Loggia dei Lanzi.” The outdoor gallery of sculptures in the piazza.
“You’ve certainly studied up on the city. That way is the Uffizi Gallery—” he pointed a finger “—which, of course, you’ll want to explore.” One of the world’s finest museums.
“Oh, yes.” Her squeeze on his arm sent pricks of energy through his muscles.
“I can find a professional guide for you if you’d like.”
“No. Thanks. I spend too much time already with guides and companions as it is.”
“I take it you mean the children you teach? That’s a cute way of describing them.”
“Right.” Luci’s voice rose. “It does seem like they are the ones leading the way most of the time.”
At the restaurant he’d chosen, Gio asked the hostess to seat them outside facing the piazza. It was about as fine a night as could be with the dusk and the statues, Luci’s face aglow with the breadth of it all.
“We’ll have the prosciutto with melon, the mushroom risotto and the grilled branzino,” he instructed the waiter. Gio was hungry so he ordered for them without consulting the menu.
“Is that all right?” He turned to Luci.
“Yes. Thank you for asking.”
“And we’ll have a bottle of the Pallovana Frascati,” Gio finished the order.
After the waiter returned with the Frascati, Luci asked, “You haven’t told me anything about your first day yet. How did everything go?”
As they sipped their wine and took advantage of the superlative people-watching their vantage point on the piazza offered, he filled her in on reacquainting himself with staff and about some restructuring he was intending.
“My biggest problem is how to handle the information about a hack we experienced recently when the design for a product was obtained and sold to a competitor.” The information about the hack was to soon be public knowledge, so he wasn’t disclosing any secrets by talking to Luci about it.
“Has it been in the news?”
“Not officially. I know there’s talk in the industry.”
“Will you speak to the press about it?” That was exactly what Samuele had been urging this morning.
“I suppose I ought to before trade gossips do.”
“So, should you issue a press statement?”
The waiter delivered plates with paper-thin slices of pink prosciutto draped across wedges of ripe orange melon.
“Grazie.” Gio acknowledged the arrival and returned his attention to Luci.
“It was my own personal security that was weak in order for the hack to have happened. I gave clearance to someone I shouldn’t have.” Gio didn’t want to tell Luci about Francesca specifically, so he kept it general.
“You don’t want the company to appear compromised in the press,” Luci said with her fork dangling in the air.
“Exactly. I’d like to think it was a grave mistake on my part but that, in general, our safeguards are very good. Nothing like that had ever happened before and hopefully never will again.”
“Do you have any new products that are about to launch?”
“Why do you ask?” The question came out sharply. But here it was. This young lady who called herself a teacher from Spain could be, right under his nose, trying to get proprietary information from him under the guise of dinner conversation. That was how these charmers worked, wasn’t it?
“I’m sorry, did I offend you?”
“Are you interested in computer science?” he baited, paying attention to every word.
“Not especially.” She took a sip of her wine. “I was going to make a suggestion about your press release. Pardon me if I was being intrusive.”
“Go on.” He rubbed his chin as he continued to study her.
“What if you wrote a statement that wasn’t strictly about the hack but was a state of the company address now that you’ve taken over? Then you can mention the leak and what security measures you’re putting in place. But sandwich it in between news about the company’s latest accomplishments.”
“That’s a great suggestion,” Gio exclaimed. He thought immediately of the achievements he would like to announce, and that in the context of a report on the company they wouldn’t come across as showboating. Indeed, his new peripheral component interconnect, PCI, was revolutionary.
Gio toasted Luci. As they clinked their wineglasses together it was as if they touched each other, a powerful sensation that traveled from his fingertips all the way up his arm to his heart.
They made it through the next two courses of their meal talking a mile a minute. Luci asked so many interesting questions about computers and listened patiently to techie mumbo jumbo that she surely didn’t understand. Gio didn’t reveal anything about his designs, and by the time dinner was over, his spy theory had lost steam. Luci was wonderful company.
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