“Hello?” she asked, answering the call. Her voice was still raspy from sleep.

“I cannot meet you today,” an unfamiliar voice replied.

Keira frowned, confused. From the bedside table she noticed the time on the alarm clock. 5 a.m.

“I’m sorry, who is this?” she asked.

“Antonio!” came the abrupt response.

Keira rubbed her weary eyes. “Why are you calling me so early?” she said with a sigh, sinking back against the thin pillow.

“Because I cannot meet you today. I have food poisoning. Sick all night.”

Delightful, Keira thought. Then immediately she felt a great wave of relief. No Antonio today. No hairy hands and rudeness.

She searched her still sleep-fogged brain, trying to recall what activity they had planned for the day. They were supposed to be taking a train together to the Amalfi Coast. The thought of taking public transport alone in a foreign country didn’t appeal to Keira, especially since she’d have to find some way to get to the train station in the first place through the dirty, crime-filled streets of Naples. The more she thought about it, the more worried she became. Maybe Antonio was something of a necessary evil.

“Is there anyone else who might be able to accompany me?” Keira asked him.

“I do not know,” came his gruff response. “I am sure the company can send a replacement. Why don’t you call them?”

“I don’t have their number,” Keira refuted. “Everything was organized through my company.”

“So you want me to do it?” Antonio barked. “Even though I am sick?”

Keira gritted her teeth with irritation. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out.” Then she added sarcastically, “You just rest up and feel better soon.”

She hung up the phone and groaned loudly. How had Viatorum screwed this all up so much? From her disgusting accommodations in a filthy city to the rude and woefully inadequate guide Antonio, the trip had been nothing but a nightmare so far.

It was time to give Viatorum a piece of her mind. She counted back on her fingers and figured that despite the late hour back in New York City, it would be okay to call the magazine. Probably not Elliot, however, so she fetched Heather’s number out of her binder of activities. His assistant answered after one ring.

“Heather, it’s Keira.”

“Keira? But isn’t it, what, five a.m. in Italy?” Heather asked.

“Wow, that was some quick math,” Keira replied, impressed. “Yes, it is. I’ve just been woken up by my delightful tour guide who’s come down with a case of food poisoning and can’t accompany me on today’s excursion.”

“Oh no,” Heather replied. “Do you need me to call the company for a replacement?”

“Actually,” Keira interjected, “the last guy they sent was awful. Is there another company we could use instead?”

“Leave it to me,” Heather replied. “Is everything else okay?”

Keira looked about her at the shabby room. “The hotel’s a bit of a dump,” she confessed.

“I’m sorry, Keira,” Heather replied, sounding genuinely bad for her. “The budget for this trip is a little tight. I might have cut a few corners here and there. It had a good rating online but I suppose when you’re a student your standards are a little lower.”