“There is?” I question the concierge down the phone. “Si. From Signor Stone. He says you must go now.” “Uh, okay. I’ll be five minutes. Wait, wait!” I call. “Go where?” “He didn’t say.” “Fantastic. Thank you.” I put the phone down and run my fingers through my hair. I’m wearing nothing but his shirt, my hair looks like birds nested in it overnight, and I may as well have swapped faces with a panda. Fucking hell. I wrench a brush through my tangled locks and kick through my suitcase for a dress. I lift a new floral one out and onto the bed with my toes and grab a wipe to clear my face of yesterday’s makeup. Thank god for being a woman and having the power to multitask. I button my dress with one hand after pulling underwear on and apply my mascara with the other. Shoes. Purse. Phone. Check.
