The Gentleman's Club

Chapter Ten: Slow Dancing In A Burning Room

We're going down

And you can see it, too

We're going down

And you know that we're doomed

My dear

We're slow dancing in a burning room

--Slow Dancing In A Burning Room, John Mayer

The next day, I dressed myself in a turquoise dress. Again, the dress was flowy. It was seventy degrees outside and it was only eleven in the morning. Italian summers were nothing to play with. I tied my hair up and went downstairs to meet Giovanni.

I found him in the living room, sitting in one of the gold and white armchairs, reading something that was written in braille. His fingers were strong, confident as he read. He was dressed casually in dark jeans and a white shirt. It reminded me of the day in the mansion when he'd scolded me for being late. The way his arms and pecs filled out that shirt was a thing of beauty.

I didn't realize I was gawking until his fingers stopped moving and his head shifted in my direction.

"Miss. Jenkins, are you going to just stand there or are you going to say something?"

My face was engulfed in flames as the blood rushed to my cheeks so fast, I was lightheaded.

"How did you know it was me?" I squeaked.

"I'm blind," he said sourly. "Didn't you know that when you're blind, all your other senses heighten? I heard your footsteps coming down the steps and into the room."

"But that still doesn't explain how you knew it was me," I pressed.

"Another story for another day," he said quickly, looking embarrassed. "We're going to be late. Come on."

I cocked my head to the side, wondering what on Earth he had to be embarrassed about. Tucking those thoughts away for now, I gripped his forearm, secretly pleased that my skin was touching his, and walked out to the car with him.

We had a dinner to get to.

***

The dinner had gone by fairly quickly. I was really of no help to Giovanni as he spoke animatedly with the five CEOs of the most famous aircraft companies known to man. Giovanni had everything under control. He was able to very easily find the papers he was looking for. Only once had he faltered, trying to find a knife to butter his toast. None of the CEOs had noticed, they were staring fixedly at the contract Giovanni had given them. I had gently placed my hand over his own--trying hopelessly to ignore the jolt that shot through my body when my hand touched his--and placed his hand over the hilt of the knife.

I saw him swallow hard, as if his throat had gone dry. I wondered if he had felt the jolt, too. As soon as the thought came, it was dismissed. Of course he hadn't. It was just me, thinking the man I was assisting was hot, that was all.

He had thanked me, though. His voice was very quiet and, if I didn't know any better, I'd say his cheeks were flushed.

Now the dinner was done. Giovanni was right. He had successfully closed the deal with them. He shook their hands, a look of pride on his handsome face.

As the car travelled down the streets of Florence, my mind travelled with it. My mind was many places. Vaguely, I wondered what Melvin and Becky were doing. Had he taken my advice and moved on with her like I'd instructed? Looking deep into my heart, I found this did not hurt me as much as I thought it would. Instead, where I once felt anger and a deep wound at Melvin's betrayal, I felt nothing. My feelings with him were gone.