Page 21 of The Road to You

MICHELE

“ Y ou realize you just screamed louder than you did in that horror movie you starred in, right?”

Lena huffs, gripping the Vespa’s handlebars with a death grip like the machine might suddenly come to life and throw her into the sea. “That’s because ghosts aren’t real , but me crashing this thing into a car? Very real possibility.”

Her voice is high-pitched, and I can feel the tension in every muscle of her body. We are standing still right now. Nothing can happen.

I bite back a laugh. “You’re not going to crash into anything,” I say in her ear, and she stiffens even more. I don’t know if it’s because she’s scared or because she’s nervous, given my body pressed against hers. I hope it’s the latter.

She shoots me a glare over her shoulder. “You don’t know that.”

Nope, she is definitely scared.

“Lena, tesoro , it’s a Vespa, not a wild stallion.” I pat the seat behind her. “Just ease into it. Feel the balance.” Easier said than done, considering it’s her first time driving something on two wheels, but I trust she can do it.

She exhales dramatically, her shoulders rising and falling. “Okay. I can do this. I’m a strong, independent woman. I…” The Vespa wobbles slightly, and she lets out another high-pitched squeal. “ Michele! ” We are still in the same spot. We haven’t moved an inch.

I chuckle and tighten my grip on her waist from where I’m seated behind her. “I’m right here. You’re fine.”

I want her to at least reach the end of the small space where we stopped. It’s not like she’s driving this thing around southern Italy. It’s literally less than ten meters.

“I am not fine,” she mutters. “I’m about to become a statistic.”

I shake my head, suppressing a grin as she slowly, very slowly, twists the throttle.

The Vespa inches forward, barely moving, and I swear the tires haven’t done a complete turn.

I have never seen this side of Lena, and it’s cute seeing her out of her comfort zone.

She is always so put together and confident that I love seeing some vulnerability in her.

She becomes more real and less of a Hollywood star.

Lena glances over at me, triumphant. “See? I got this.”

“You’re going negative miles per hour, Hollywood.” I tease her.

“It’s called safety , Moretti.” She side-eyes me, and I grin.

I smirk. “It’s called stopping traffic .” I push her buttons in the way I discover I love.

She scoffs but twists the throttle a little more, and suddenly, the Vespa lurches forward like a caffeinated Italian grandmother late for Mass.

I swear I saw my death, journalists all over Positano documenting our sudden departure from this earth.

My heart hammers in my chest, and the doubt that we are going to die right here and now creeps into my guts.

Maybe she’s right, we are becoming a statistic.

I grip her waist tighter. “Whoa, okay!”

Lena shrieks, veering wildly toward a line of parked cars. “Oh my God, oh my God. Michele, do something! ”

I reach around her, grabbing the handlebars just before we become one with someone’s overpriced sports car. With a quick correction, I steer us back toward the road. Jesus. I really underestimated the danger of this idea.

Lena lets out a breathless laugh. “That was not my fault.”

“Really?” I arch a brow. “Because I think the Ferrari owner behind us would disagree.”

She twists around, wide-eyed. “Is it scratched? Oh my God, am I about to owe someone a quarter of a million dollars?” She sounds really concerned.

I laugh. “Relax. We didn’t touch it.” Luckily, or I would be nursing an injury on my right leg as well.

She groans, slumping against me for a second. “This is impossible. My balance sucks.”

The warmth of her body against mine drives my mind down a very sexy and dangerous path. I have a hard time focusing on what is happening, and I can’t afford distractions right now.

I nudge her lightly. “It’s not impossible. You just need to trust yourself.”

She tilts her head back. “Says the guy who can probably drive this thing blindfolded.”

Her lips are so close I just need to turn my head a bit more to reach them and kiss the hell out of her.

“Maybe,” I say, grinning.

She grumbles something under her breath before sitting up straighter. “Okay, let’s try again.”

I adjust my hands around her waist, and she revs the throttle, this time moving forward at a somewhat acceptable pace. Fast enough not to lose balance, at least.

“There you go,” I encourage. “Now just keep your shoulders loose, and…”

The Vespa jerks forward again.

Lena yelps. “Nope! Nope ! ”

We swerve dramatically, and I burst out laughing, clutching her tighter as I feel the tires skid a bit on the asphalt.

“Stop laughing!” she cries, but she’s laughing, too, her body shaking against mine.

I can’t help it. The sight of her, all wide-eyed and panicked, gripping the handlebars like they’re her last hope for survival, is hands down the funniest thing I’ve seen in years.

“You should see your face right now,” I tease.

“I hate you,” she says, breathless and giggling.

“You love me,” I correct, still laughing. When the word leaves my lips, my heart clenches and I ignore it.

She turns her head slightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “If you’re not careful, Moretti, I’ll let go and let you drive this thing.”

I smirk. “Go ahead.”

She makes a move like she’s actually going to let go, and I react instinctively, tightening my grip and pressing closer.

“Okay, okay, no funny business,” I say, grinning against her ear.

She huffs but doesn’t pull away, and for a moment, we slowly inch forward through the winding roads of Positano. The salty breeze ruffles through her hair, and the pastel-colored buildings spill down the cliffs like something out of a painting.

The laughter fades, but the warmth doesn’t.

I don’t know when it happened. Somewhere between teasing her in Rome, holding her hand in Villa Borghese, and this—holding her steady on a Vespa while she laughs like the world isn’t watching—I’ve started feeling something I shouldn’t feel.

Something that digs under my skin, warm and insistent, curling around my ribs.

I like this. Not just the teasing or the chemistry.

Her.

I like her .

And that should be a problem. But right now, it isn’t. Right now, it’s just us on a Vespa, without knowing what the future looks like and not caring a bit about it. I don’t feel scared when I’m with her.

She twists the throttle again, trying to keep a steady speed, and I swear we might actually survive this…until she nearly crashes us into a parked Fiat.

“ LENA! ” I shout

“ I GOT IT, I GOT IT! ” she screams

She does not, in fact, got it. I react fast, reaching for her wrists and yanking them left just in time to avoid disaster.

The Vespa wobbles, and Lena shrieks, and I finally do what I should have done from the start.

I slide forward, gripping the handlebars myself and bringing us to a smooth, controlled stop.

Silence.

Lena pants, gripping my thigh so hard it almost hurts.

I lower my forehead on her back and exhale a breathless laugh. “That was close.”

She groans, dropping her head against my shoulder. “I almost killed us.” Her voice is still shaky.

I rub soothing circles on her arms. “Only a little.”

She snorts. “New rule: I don’t drive.”

“Agreed.” I shift slightly, and a sharp ache shoots through my injured leg.

I grit my teeth, ignoring it. It’s fine. I’ve gone more than a month without physical therapy, and yeah, I feel it, but I refuse to let it ruin this moment. It doesn’t help that all the weight of the Vespa is on my left leg.

Lena lifts her head. “You okay?”

I force a smirk. “I’m more worried about your ego than my life expectancy right now.”

She smacks my arm lightly. “Ass.”

I chuckle, then swing my leg over and take my rightful place in the driver’s seat. Lena instantly relaxes, and the smile appears less forced on her lips.

“Hold on tight, Hollywood,” I say.

She doesn’t hesitate. Her arms wrap around me, her hands splaying across my stomach, and it’s enough for everything to shift. I feel her heartbeat against my back. The way she fits against me, like she’s meant to be there. I swallow hard, then rev the engine.

“Ready?”

She exhales, laughing softly. “Not even a little.”

I grin. “Too bad.”

And with that, we take off, winding through the sunlit cliffs of Positano, her laughter mixing with the breeze. And for the first time in a long, long time, I don’t think about the past. I don’t think about what’s coming next.

I just think about her.

The engine hums beneath us as the boat cuts through the impossibly blue waters of the Amalfi Coast. The sun is high, its golden reflection shimmering over the gentle waves, and the scent of salt and citrus lingers in the air.

Lena leans against the railing, her hair whipping in the wind, looking every bit like the Hollywood star she is.

She is untamed, radiant, and completely captivating.

“You’re staring,” she says without turning around, with a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

I don’t even bother denying it. “I am.”

She tilts her head, glancing at me over her shoulder. She studies me for a long moment, biting her lower lip like she always does when she is thinking about something, and that drives me crazy.

“Something on my face?”

I slowly scoop closer, resting an arm beside her on the railing. “Just the sun,” I murmur. “And maybe a beautiful smile.”

She huffs out a laugh. “Smooth, Moretti.”

“Always.”

The captain, Matteo, clears his throat behind us, clearly amused. “We’re almost at Li Galli . You two planning on staying dry, or are you actually getting in the water?”

Lena turns fully to face me, arching a brow. “Depends. Are you scared of the sirens, professore ?”

I love it when she calls me teacher. She teases me about my passion for historical facts, but I know that she likes it when I go on one of my rants. She is a curious person and she asks a lot of questions.