Hi Francesca,
Sorry to interrupt your weekend, I hope it’s a great one.
Great news.
I’ve just had confirmation that the first hotel we are working on will be in Rome.
The perfect setting!
They want to have a meeting on Wednesday this week to go over the plans and timeframes. Feel free to work from home on Monday and Tuesday to prepare the spreadsheets if you like.
Looking forward to Wednesday,
Safe travels,
Pierre
Shit.
I exhale heavily.
Don’t give me extra time to get home, I need to get out of Italy ASAP. I click out of my phone in disgust.
“Are you coming?” Marcel calls.
“On my way.” I grab my coat and purse and make my way out. “Let’s go eat, I’m starving.”
The thing about the human mind is that it reconciles your bad choices. Musters up some kind of excuse for you to justify your upcoming mistakes.
I know I should leave it, there are words between Giuliano and me that need to be left unsaid. I sip my coffee and stare into space, if I stayed here for another day. I could go see him.
Just…to see if he’s okay.
I mean, his mother just died and he did come around to see me the other day but I was going out. He probably had to tell me something urgent and then I didn’t call back. It would be rude not to check in on him.
Masochist.
But honestly, I really should at least tell him about the porn on that website, he would be horrified if he knew it was up there. One of those stupid girls uploaded it without his permission, I’m sure of it.
He needs to know, the very least I can do is to tell him, that way, he can get it taken down and then he will know what kind of girls they are.
Yes, I should do that, and not as an ex-girlfriend but just as a friend.
Masochist.
“So, I got an email from my boss this morning.” I say to Marcel casually.
“What did he have to say?”
“The first hotel is Rome.”
“Ah.” He raises his coffee cup in a cheers symbol. “Oh la la, beautiful.”
I smile. “Pretty exciting.” I sip my coffee. “I have to be there on Tuesday, my boss thinks I should just fly there tomorrow straight from here so I can prepare,” I lie.
What am I doing?
His forehead crinkles. “Oh.”
“Would you be alright flying home…by yourself?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I’ll get the plane,” I offer.
“No, no. I’ll catch commercial. No bother.”
“Are you sure?” I frown.
“Of course.” He smiles warmly. “This contract is a big deal for you.” He takes out his phone and gets online to book a flight as I watch on.
I’m a terrible person.
Just go with him to France…do not go and see Giuliano.
He goes through the motions, “Done. I’m on the four p.m. flight.” He smiles up at me. “See, easily done.”
I take his hand over the table. “Sorry.”
I really am sorry…about everything.
“That’s okay, darling, you can make it up to me when you get home. I think we should move in together, it’s a natural step in our relationship now that we are getting married, and we have a big wedding to plan.” He winks playfully.
My face falls before I catch it and quickly fake a smile. “Talk about it when we get home, hey?”
God.
This is the nightmare that keeps on giving.
The car pulls up at the Ferrara Building and I look through the window at the huge glass tower. Antonio gets out and opens the car door for me.
“Thank you.” I give him a soft smile and he raises an unimpressed eyebrow back at me. “I’ll be right here.”
“Okay.”
Antonio isn’t impressed we are here and refuses to hide it.
I walk in through reception and up to the counter. “I’m here to see Giuliano Ferrara.”
The receptionist subtly looks me up and down. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No. Tell him his sister, Francesca, is here.”
Her mouth falls open. “Yes, of course. My apologies.” She picks up the phone with urgency. “Mr. Ferrara, Francesca, your sister, is here.” She listens as her eyes flick up to me and her brow furrows as if surprised. “Mr. Ferrara is very busy today,” she replies.
What?
“Tell him I’ll wait,” I snap.
“She said she’ll wait,” she whispers uncomfortably, she nods as she listens and then her eyes flick to the front doors. “Three that I can see, sir.”
I frown and my eyes flick to the front door, he just asked her how many guards I have with me.
Why?
I lose the last of my patience, I didn’t have to come here. I’m being nice, for fuck’s sake. I hold my hand out for the phone and she frowns. “Give me the phone.”
She tentatively hands it over.
“Giuliano,” I snap. “I’m coming up. Now.”
“Fine,” he growls.
I hand the phone back to her and she listens and nods. “Yes, sir.” She gestures for a security guard and he comes over and runs a gun scanner over me and then leads me through a metal detector. I am then taken to the elevator and the guard gets in with me.
I stare at the doors as we ride to the top and I realize that I have never been in this building, not even once when my father was alive.
That’s weird, isn’t it? That a child was never brought to their father’s work.
I guess it all makes sense now, it’s crystal clear why daddy didn’t bring his little girl to the crime capital of Italy…ugh, makes me sick to my stomach.
We get to the top floor and the doors open to another swanky reception area and an office door opens in a rush. Giuliano stands there, in a black shirt and gray suit, looking every bit the crime boss that he is. He raises an impatient eyebrow and I see red, I storm past him into his office and he closes the door behind me.
“What are you doing here?” he snaps.
“I’m asking myself the same question.”
“I’m very busy today, I don’t have time for you.”
“Make time,” I growl.
I have no idea why we’re fighting but bring it on because I am ready to rumble. “What is your problem?” I put my hands onto my hips, outraged.
“You are my fucking problem.”
“Me,” I gasp.
“Yes, you. Do not come to my fucking office and demand to be let in. I won’t have it.”
I step toward him. “Listen here, you son of a bitch. Do not tell me where I can go. If I want to come to your stupid office then I will.”
Amusement flashes across his face, and he leans his behind on the desk and crosses his feet at the ankles. He grips the desk with his two hands and my eyes drop to them. Strong, tanned and covered in veins.
Hand porn, in all its glory.
He gestures to the seat. “Sit.”
For some stupid reason, my body instantly obeys his bossy demand and I find myself falling into the seat.
“What do you want?” he asks.
This was not the reception I was expecting, far from it. I grip my handbag on my lap. “I just….” I straighten my back, annoyed by his tone. “I wanted to see if you were, okay?”