I was biting my nails. The exam grilled me, and I had been waiting for the train for an hour now. It just wasn't my day.

It was unusual as there was always an influx of trains in and out of Firenze Santa Maria Novella. Today only I stood at the terminal. I got a call from an unknown number.

"Hello?" I said in a worn-out voice.

I brushed my curls beneath my fedora.

A soft voice trilled from the other side.

"Afternoon, Makayla."

My heart raced.
"Hi. Hi Marcus." I said in a breathy whisper.

It was two weeks from our last meeting. I had rushed out early the following day to avoid Marcus. The experience with Aro had flustered me.

"It has been some time since I have seen you."
I looked at the empty railroad station.

"I've had a lot on my plate these days. I just had my first exam."

A moment passed.
"How did you fair?"

I blew out a breath.
"I don't know," I said hopelessly.

"You should not worry I am certain you passed."
The simple words made a smile tug weakly on my lips.

"Thanks, Marcus at least one of us thinks so," I said with a small laugh.

He echoed with his own, hearty chortle.
"My pleasure, dear."

My heart was jumping around so much I feared he could hear it over the line. My toes curled, my palms were clammy and my face warmed.

"What are you doing at the moment?"

I replied, a little more upbeat: "Futilely waiting for transport. I've been here for twenty minutes at the train station and there's been no train."

"Where are you?"

"At the terminal of Firenze Santa Maria Novella. Why are you asking?"

"I was in Florence for business and I thought I should make a detour to your home, but I never anticipated you would also be in Florence. Would it be a bother if we went for dinner?"

He asked me on a date!
"You're kidding right? You aren't actually, here right?"

"l am outside the train station."

I gasped. He knew Florence well? How did he get here?... Maybe he was driven here by a cab? The trains were inconsistent today but I also couldn't accept a man of his grandeur taking public transportation.

"What if I don't believe you, Marcus?"
I bit my lip. How would he react?

"It does sound a trifle far-fetched, but humour me and come outside, will you?"

There was nothing to lose. I hung up.

I looked at the empty station and I felt the walls close in and the wind howl. I quickly scuttled outside; there was no-one in sight. It was cold.

When I passed the closed cafés, boutiques and chain restaurants it grew ever colder and the yowling of the wind fiercer. I quickened my pace.

I passed the gaudy yet lonely buildings and the stone became beige and topaz hues as I left the station. The area was lifeless; the street lights started flicking on.

I felt isolated. I picked up my phone and called the number that had last called. Marcus responded.

"Have you found the vehicle?"

It couldn't be the one near the street lamps. It was an everyday little Honda civic, silver and shiny. He had to have come in a larger vehicle.

"I can only see a Honda..."

He hummed.

"That is the very one. You can come and open the passenger side."

He adjourned our call. And I marvelled that such a wealthy man had such ordinary taste in cars. I hustled to the silver vehicle. When I reached the door and pulled, it opened.

I peered into the dark shell of the car, from the backdrop of the swiftly approaching evening. I strained to see some familiarity. A man shifted closer and the street lamp spilled its light on him.

Marcus' slender, long face was revealed. As well as his white blazer with gold neck-pieces. I looked at the accessory around his neck.

"Buonsera. Com'è stata la tua giornata?" I said.

He smiled.

"Vedo che hai imparato," he said.

"Could you say that again but in English?"

I had learnt a few greetings and the essentials to ask for directions, but whatever he said went over my head.

He chuckled.

"It's still quite impressive," he complimented.

"It means I see you have been learning. Vedo che hai imparato."

He spoke in Italian slowly and annunciated each syllable so I could understand. I mimicked him.

I could feel the shape of the words as my mouth curled and twisted, so l could parrot him.

"Vedo che hai imparato," l said unsurely.
He prompted for me to repeat the sentence. I did so with more gusto, but equally as incorrectly.

"Better," he said.

He slid away from the door so I could enter.

"Drive us to the hotel."
A firm, assured voice responded.

"Yes, Master."

I recognised the voice immediately.

"Hey Demetri!"

I also could not contain my enthusiasm. The driver slanted his hat and gave me a debonair grin.

"Hi, Makayla. How are you?"

"I haven't had the best time. I woke up late this morning; had a nauseating pasta dish for lunch and I think I didn't do my best in my exam."

He tried to be serious but his good humour surfaced.
"You also forgot to mention you spent an hour at the train station vainly."

We laughed.

"That's true. I wonder how that happened. The trains are always moving."

Marcus settled in and watched us conversate.

"There was news there would be a strike today. But I guess it would be hard for you to hear of, since you aren't familiar with Italy yet."

"Oh? Then why wasn't the exam postponed?"

Demetri turned deftly and then looked at me through his mirror.

"It's simpler to inform university students to organise their own private transport for a day then to inconvenience them with rescheduling an important exam."

Most likely. There was no room to reschedule this exam as there would be a gradual increase in continuous assessments for most universities during this month.

And not to mention final examinations usually kicked off in August and there were many holidays then...it was nearly impossible to rework a public exam in the chaotic school calendar.

"Perhaps," I said to Demetri.

"You'll acclimatise soon. Made any friends so far?"

I shook my head and sighed. Demetri gave me a comforting look.

"Master, we are approaching the hotel."
~~~~~.........~~~~~.......~~~~.....~~~~~......~~~~~~~
Hotel Ambasciatori, a four-star hotel. For good reason l suppose. The waiting area was large, but it didn't come across as heavy or cold, despite the muted colour scheme and large decor.

There were many rectangular furnishings with bright cushions, where guests from different walks could sit and mingle. The receptionists were beautiful to look at, clean with ever colourful smiles and peppy attitudes.

I was frightened what they would think of someone like me walking into the hotel with, my dollar store, long-sleeved shirt, and my mother's knee length skirt, Marcus.

Marcus was their ideal customer, dressed up in a white, floral suit with, what I later found out from him, a golden, silk ascot paired with light brown brogues.

Despite standing out the secretaries smiled at me and greeted me like any other customer and; Marcus and Demetri ushered me to their room.

As we climbed the staircase to the first elevator on the third floor l marvelled at the trendy designs and buzz of life, whether it was men in thobes, the staff in their powder blue or steel blue shirts, women in five inch heels or locals in Bermuda shorts.

"This hotel is astounding." I exclaimed.

Marcus shrugged nonchalantly. Demetri fell in step with me, as Marcus walked ahead of us.

"It is satisfactory."

I hadn't had enough time to look at Demetri's clothing. He was looking quite flossy. He had on cream chinos, a black and white stripped shirt paired with a navy-blue blazer. He was the face of semi-formal.

"Sweet threads, Demetri."

Demetri gave a suave smile.

"Why thank you," he said then he looked at my jet high heel boots and my brown suede skirt.

"You look dope," he said.

I twirled and lowered my black fedora.

"Really?" I asked uncertain.

He nodded and pocketed his hands. I walked a little taller as we entered into the elevator.

"Are you on business alone?" l asked stiffly, remembering Marcus' unpleasant siblings.

My back had tensed.

Demetri chortled.

"I'm here with the Master."

Marcus watched as the numbers ascended slowly, with the flicker of a yellow light.

"That's not what I meant."
Marcus looked down at me.

"It is only Demetri accompanying me this time; I insisted I take care of our business alone."

My body eased out of its tension. The elevator chimed as it opened on the seventh floor.

"Welcome to the suite," Marcus said lowly.