Piazza di Spagna, near the foot of Via dei Condotti. The man wore a gray shirt
that had wrinkles over the chest area, navy blue trousers and yellow running
shoes.
On seeing the sign, the man immediately stood up and darted through the
square, up the steps—three at a time—all the way to the peak, where the
billionaire was stationed. He lifted his rumpled shirt, revealing a bulletproof
vest—and pulled out a laminated sheet of paper from beneath it.
“Here you go, Grande. Good to see you back in Roma, Boss.” The man
spoke with a rich Italian accent and a voice as gritty as sandpaper.
“Grazie mille! Molto gentile, Adriano,” the billionaire said as he kissed
the palm of a hand before extending it for a handshake.
“Adriano’s on my security team,” noted Mr. Riley while studying the page
that had been presented to him. “He’s one of my best. He grew up in the town
of Alba in the Piemonte region of this exceptional nation. You cats like
tartufo?”
“What’s that?” queried the artist, looking a little confused by the scenario
that had just played out.
“Truffles, baby!” enthused the billionaire. “My goodness, they taste
incredible. On tagliolini pasta with melted butter drizzled over it. Or when
grated over jiggly fried eggs. My, oh my, food of the emperors it is!” The
billionaire’s eyes were as wide as a prairie while he imagined the meal he was
describing. A razor thin line of drool meandered out of the right corner of his
mouth. Yes, a line of drool. Beyond weird, right?
Adriano, who had remained in position, discreetly handed his employer a
handkerchief. He looked at the entrepreneur and the artist with a glance that
seemed to say, “I know he’s strange, but we love him, too.”
And then all four people perched upon that overwhelmingly alluring site
started to laugh. Together.
“Have a great morning, Boss,” Adriano said as he prepared to leave. “I’ll
meet you in Testaccio this evening. Thank you so much for inviting me to eat
with you tonight. Are we eating cacio e pepe, as usual?”
“Si,” confirmed the billionaire. “A presto.”
“Alba is where white truffles come from,” explained the billionaire.
“Specially trained dogs sniff them out. Or pigs. Maybe in the future, I’ll take
you guys on a truffle hunt with me. I promise you it’ll be unforgettable.
Anyhoo, have a look at this fantastic learning model. The Spellbinder actually
deconstructed The Victory Hour and
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