“It’s a small luxury boutique chain.”
“Okay, what time do you want me to arrange your flight?”
“Umm, I don’t know, about five?”
“To Paris?”
She looks over and her eyes hold mine.
The elevator doors open, breaking the moment. “Yes, Paris,” she replies.
She’s going back to him.
“Fine,” I snap, I stride out and walk through the foyer.
Of course, she is, he is her fucking fiancé after all. I feel my blood begin to boil as I march out of the building. I open the car door for her and she gets in and I slam the door behind her. I can’t even be near her, if I go with her now I know I’m going to explode and say things I shouldn’t.
The asshole of all assholes.
This woman makes me fucking crazy.
I turn to her driver. “Take Francesca back to her hotel while she checks out and then escort her to work, please. I want a full team with her today.”
“Yes, sir.”
She winds her window down and looks up at me. “You’re not coming?”
“No.”
“Will I see you this afternoon?” she asks hopefully.
“I have things on,” I lie.
“Oh….”
“Have a nice day.” I tap on the roof of the car and then before I have to look at her one more time, I turn and walk back into the building.
I walk into the elevator and make a call back to my office.
“Hey, boss.”
“Hi, Marcus, I need you to get some information for me, please.”
“Of course.”
“Can you find out anything of relevance about who owns the Remington hotel chain?”
“Okay. Where is it?”
“They’re global, I’m not sure of specifics but I know they have a hotel in Rome.”
“On it, boss.” He hangs on the line before asking, “Is something wrong?”
“No. Francesca is currently working for them, I just need to know that she’s safe.”
“Good idea.”
“Okay, get back to me.”
“Sure thing.”
The elevator doors open and I stride out and back into my apartment and straight up to the bedroom Francesca slept in. Without a thought I pick up the pillow she slept on and inhale deeply, I close my eyes as her scent rushes around my senses.
Soft and arousing, like a memory from up above.
I do it again and again…and then I realize what I’m doing, disgusted. I throw the pillow at the wall.
The hell is wrong with you…she’s your sister.
You sick fuck?
I drag my hands through my hair and storm back downstairs, I make another call as I take the stairs two at a time, I need to get the fuck out of here.
“Hey boss.”
“Organize the planes for this afternoon, please.”
“Planes as in plural?”
“Two. One to Paris and one to Milan.”
Francesca
“Can you measure the floor space for the ballroom now, please?” I ask my assistant as I scribble down the details of the last room we measured.
Mr. Carballo has kindly assigned me two assistants today, they are the hotel’s full-time handymen and today are measuring up a storm for me. I know the plans have the floor space on them, but I want to triple-check every last detail.
“Sure thing.”
“Miss Ferrara.” I hear a deep voice from behind me.
I turn, startled to see a man. “Yes, hello.”
He smiles warmly and puts his hand out to shake mine. “Dominic Russo.”
“Hi.” I smile, surprised, who is this handsome specimen?
He smiles, knowing full well how good looking he is. He would be in his early thirties and has dark hair with a curl to it. Big blue eyes and well built.
“My dear Francesca,” a deep voice says, I turn to see Mr. Carballo as he walks in. “Hello, Mr. Carballo.”
He holds his hand out to the man. “May I present my operations manager; this is Dominic Russo. Dominic, this is Francesca Ferrara, our head designer from Paris.”
“Hello. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” he replies, his eyes hold mine for a beat longer than they should.
Hmm….
“I wanted you two to meet, Dominic will be handling most things from here, Francesca,” Mr. Carballo says.
“Oh, okay.” I smile, surprised.
“He’s the CEO of our hotel chain, and you will be working closely with him.”
“Great.” I fake a smile. Shit…do I tell him now or later that I can’t come back to Rome often?
“So, I’ll leave you to it.” Mr. Carballo smiles between the two of us. “Dominic has been briefed on everything, and after our day together yesterday, Francesca, I have full faith in your design and concepts.”
“Thank you.” A thought crosses my mind, “Are your offices here, Mr. Carballo?”
“No, not on premises, but I stay upstairs in the penthouse often, I haven’t left here for a few days now.”
“Oh.” I smile, I love that he’s hard working.
“Goodbye,” he says as he heads toward the doors.
“Bye.”
I look back down at my sketchpad, an awkward silence falls between Dominic and me, maybe it’s just because he is good looking and he knows that I know it.
“Will you be relocating to Rome for the duration of this job?” he asks.