Hearts Under Fire

Chapter 4 - Olè (part I)

Jenny and Martina were expecting Marzarotti any time.

Jenny had found his number on the For Rent sign affixed to the building door, and called him.

Probably due to a female voice, he invited her to discuss it over coffee. Jenny declined with elegance, on the pretext that she couldn’t leave the shop. Counting on her appealing tone, she asked him to show up at Youth whenever he’d pass by there. Needless to say, this phone conversation had taken place only a few minutes before.

Jenny had checked out this Marzarotti guy before contacting him. He had a reputation for being lazy.

Mid-forties, he was a well-known playboy around town whose success with women depended on his wallet in the first place … He came from a wealthy family, drove a convertible, and wore designer clothes. Crumbs for foreign chicks! The fact that he didn’t have a job proved that he lived off the rent of his many properties. It was said that when he needed a substantial amount of money, he sold one of them without caring who the buyer was—he wasn’t well liked because, instead of selling to his fellow citizens, he sold to outsiders, sometimes bringing shady newcomers to town.

“Miss Salvini?” said a man, stopping at the entrance while Martina was dealing with two customers—two girls.

“Mr. Marzarotti?”

“Para servirle, señorita,” he said, raising his dark glasses and resting them atop his head.

“Come on in, please,” she invited, smiling to disguise her disgust.

The man before her—all five feet, four inches of him—was a walking cliché, complete with dyed jet-black hair, thick black sunglasses, a Rolex on one wrist, and a gold bracelet on the other. His arrogant expression was that of somebody who believed himself to be worth much. But the face that bore it was utterly plain, without a single wrinkle surviving the facelift and a ridiculous tan like a tourist from Maldives—okay, it was July, but even he made a tan look bad, especially as it clashed with his gaudy, turquoise shirt. This property owner was already getting on her nerves.

She welcomed him from behind the shelter of the counter. The invisible drool dripping from his mouth made ​​her uncomfortable even though her legs were encased in a pair of black jeans.

“How do you do?” she asked, holding out her hand, in an attempt to show some manners.

“Encantado,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips for a kiss. “Valerio,” he added, pulling out a smile he likely thought would charm her.

His teeth were very white, but she wasn’t impressed. However, his confidence affected the strategy she’d devised to deal with him. She became bolder.

In the meantime, the two girls had led Martina outside to the showcases.