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“What was that for?” she asks. “How can you complain about free stuff? Free designers!”

I blow out a slow breath and concede her point.

It’s true.

How can I possibly be mad at the fact that we were taken on a shopping spree and thousands of euros were dropped on us?

We had the kind of day people would die to experience. It’s time I stop overthinking so much and learn to enjoy myself…

* * *

For a second night in a row, Jayla and I head out dressed to the nines. I’ve opted to show some skin in an off-the-shoulder cherry-red cocktail dress with ruffle detailing at the hem. Since we’ll probably be on our feet more tonight, I’ve worn chunky sandal heels that feel comfortable enough to dance in. I feel sexy and feminine, aware I look damn good.

Even better than last night.

A part of me wonders if Mr. Calderone will like how I look before I chastise myself.

I shouldn’t care what men think, especially a man I barely know.

Regardless of how many dollars may be in his bank account.

The same luxury car and cute driver from last night await us. We learn his name is Gavino. He drives us even further than last night ’til I’m seconds away from questioning where he’s taking us.

Finally, we pull up outside a strip of bars and clubs, each with bright neon lights and pulsing music coming from inside.

We don’t have to question which nightclub we’re supposed to go to. Maurizio from last night emerges as if informed the instant we pulled up that we had arrived.

“This way,” he says in a deep baritone. Tall and stoic, he’s otherwise unreadable.

Jayla glances at me and says, “He’s fine but needs to smile sometime.”

Mr. Calderone wasn’t exaggerating when he said Ballare is a club many want access to. We bypass a long line of hopefuls and waltz straight into the nightclub.

“The music’s not in English,” Jayla whispers in my ear.

I whisper back, “We’re not in America.”

Ballare reminds me of the swanky lounge bars in the upper west side of Newport City. It’s low lit with plenty of tables and leather seating. There’s a stage for a live band to play and a dance floor where men and women mingle and move to the music playing.

Much like last night, they’re all dressed up. A sea of suits, ties, cocktail dresses, and heels.

We’re led to the largest table in the club.

Both Anthonys are seated, as well as Olivia and Adagio. We’re given a warm welcome settling down at the table.

“So nice of you to join us again,” Anthony says, winking. He’s puffing on another cigar.

“We appreciate the invite.”

Anthony shares an amused glance with his son, then inhales tobacco into his lungs. “Well, you are the special guests of honor. How could we not invite you?”

I’m not sure what Anthony means, but in another second, a server comes by to fill everyone’s glass with more red wine. Two more glasses are set down for Jayla and me.

“To tonight,” says Anthony.

Everyone raises their glass. I’m the last one to do so, forcing a smile onto my face.

“So, do you all live in Catania?” Jayla asks.