I keep my face forward, but my eyes are flicking toward my guards’ cars beneath my glasses. The boys are talking and laughing as they lean against one of the cars.
Please don’t let me get caught. Please don’t let me get caught.
Five more minutes.
We turn the corner and I roll my lips to hide my smile, I think I might actually do this. I break away from the ladies and cross the street and around another corner and call an Uber. I hold my breath as I wait for it to arrive and when it finally does, I jump into the back seat excitedly.
“Airport?” the driver says.
“Yes, please.” I beam with pride, I did it.
I walk into the ballroom with a folder under my arm, nerves firmly intact.
This is it, the most important meeting of my entire life.
As promised, I’m in Rome in the hotel we are about to refurbish. Wearing a fitted black dress and high heels with my long dark hair swept up into a high ponytail. I’m wearing natural makeup with my signature deep red lipstick. I hope I look the part.
A distinguished-looking man is waiting for me, he’s in his fifties and very handsome in his Armani suit. “Hello.” I smile nervously as I shake his hand. “Francesca Ferrara.”
“Hello, my dear.” He smiles, his eyes hold mine and a trace of a frown crosses his brow. “Ferrara…where are you from?”
“Milan.”
“Ah.” He smiles. “God’s country. I had a dear friend who lived in Milan, you aren’t any relation to the late Giuliano Ferrara, are you?”
“Yes,” I reply politely. “He was my father.”
“Really…he’s sorely missed.”
“Yes, he is.”
His eyes hold mine. “It’s lovely to meet you, Francesca.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” I ask.
“I’m Vincenzo Carballo.”
“Hello.” I smile.
“Congratulations, your concepts blew your competition out of the water.”
“Thank you, I’m excited to get started. It really is going to be wonderful once completed,” I reply as I look around the grand ballroom, I can almost see the magazine spread already. I’m going to nail this refurb if it’s the last thing I do.
He gestures to the large double doors. “Shall we continue in my office?”
“Of course.” I grip my folder and follow him out, get into the elevator and the doors close.
“I thought your company was French?” he says.
“It is, I live in France.”
“Really?” He frowns. “A Ferrara who doesn’t live in Italy?”
“After my brother died, I went to live in Paris.”
“Enrico?”
“Yes.” The elevator doors open and he gestures to the corridor, we get out and walk down it. “You knew him?” I ask.
“No, I didn’t have the pleasure,” he replies as we get to a series of offices.
“But if…. You knew my father?” I ask, confused, they knew all the same people.
“Ah.” He shrugs. “I knew your father through work, unfortunately, I didn’t have the pleasure of knowing him personally.” He opens a door and reveals a huge office, it’s very old world. Dark green walls and walnut cabinetry. The desk in the center of the room is gigantic. It has a very dated feel in here, I need to refit this as well. Damn, this is one hell of a huge task.
“Where did you work?” I ask.
“I used to work for the football team he owned.”
“Oh” I smile as I connect the dots, that makes sense, Enrico had nothing to do with the football team. “I see.” I open my folder to reveal the black title page with gold letters.
Lux
“Are you ready to create the most luxurious glamorous hotels in the world, Mr. Carballo?” I ask playfully.
He leans back in his chair and smiles, seemingly impressed. “Bring it on.”
Three hours later I walk through the large foyer area and can hardly wipe the huge smile from my face. The meeting went better than my wildest dreams. Mr. Carballo is intelligent, stylish and completely in tune with my vision, I just can’t wait to get started. I’m working here again tomorrow as I order in materials that I need to be on-site for and then demolition work starts next week after the last of the guests check out on Sunday.
It no easy feat refurbishing a hotel, it has to be completely emptied and stripped bare. I push out through the double glass doors and look around and feel a rush of adrenaline.
Freedom.
No guards, for the first time in my life. I have no bodyguards and I love it.
I feel grown up and to be honest, I don’t think I even want security anymore.
I don’t need them, never once have I had an issue.
I walk down the street and peruse through the shops and I’m just in the best mood ever. Literally walking on air, I see a gelato shop up ahead and I make my way in to celebrate in style.
“Can I help you?” the cashier asks.
I look through the choices, I put my finger on the glass above the one I want. “Can I please have a single--” I pause. “Make that a double scoop of the decadent choc gelato in a wafer cone please?”
“Sure.” She grabs her scoop. “Would you like that dipped in hot chocolate?”
“Ooh, that sounds good.” I widen my eyes with a smile. “Yes, please.”
My phone buzzes in my bag and I take it out, the name Marcel lights up the screen.
“Hi.”
“How did it go?”
“Great, my God. I’m so excited. This is a dream job.”
“Good to hear, listen, why are your guards still parked out the front of your place?”
I wince.
“I just went over to your apartment to pick up my spare computer keyboard because mine broke and all your guards are in their cars.”
I scrunch up my face, knowing full well how petulant this sounds. “I kind of snuck out.”
“What?”
“I’m sick and tired of all this security, Marcel. I wanted to come to Rome unaccompanied.”
“Why would you do that?” he scolds me. “How did you sneak out?”
“Easily, I told them I was working from home for a few days and then I left wearing a blond wig and hat.”
“Francesca,” he gasps.
“Oh please,” I huff. “I’m going to terminate my security when I get home. I’m sick to death of being followed everywhere.”
“Well, if they think you need it, it’s obviously for a reason.”
“I get as to why when I was young, but now it’s just ridiculous. If something goes wrong, I call the damn police like the rest of the adult population.”
“Francesca,” he sighs.
I roll my eyes, annoyed that he’s raining on my good mood parade. “I’ll call you later.”
“Why do you have to go, what are you doing?”
“Right now, I’m about to eat a chocolate gelato and then I’m going shopping and buying shoes and then tonight, I’m going to Bellocchi’s for dinner.”
“With who?”
“Alone,” I snap back. “I’m going, my ice cream is ready.