Page 9 of Giorgio

“I hate to say goodbye.”

Lifting a hand, he brushed back a lock of her glorious red hair gently. “It’s not goodbye.” Bending his head, he kissed her passionately, before unwrapping her hands from around his neck. “I will see you soon.” With that, he was gone.

A frown marred the smoothness of her brow as she stared after him. There must be some way she could get him to change his mind and her status and was going to find a way to work on the details.

*****

To her delighted surprise, her brother had booked a villa for her instead of a hotel. The charming pink stucco building was a welcome change from what she considered to be a soulless entity crowded with people packed in together and not affording any sort of privacy.

The flight, though uneventful had been interminable and left her exhausted and tensed. She had tried to sleep, but after closing her eyes for a few minutes and willing herself to relax, it had been a lost cause.

She had been allocated the window seat, and the seats were comfortable with enough leg room, but her travelling companions consisted of an overweight man crammed into the middle seat and a woman who had fallen asleep as soon as they were airborne, her snores loud enough to wake the dead.

The man had tried to engage her in conversation and after the hints about her not wanting to talk were ignored, she had taken refuge in her kindle. To her relief, he had given up trying and fallen asleep himself.

Now she was here finally. A car had met her at the airport and whisked her away. Calculating the difference in time, she placed a call to her brother.

“You know me so well.”

“I take it that you landed safely?”

“And on my way to the villa.” Edging forward in the back seat, she stared at the delightful scenery. The driver only spoke a handful of English, and her command of Italian was sadly lacking.

“I thought you would prefer privacy. It does not mean you are going to lock yourself off and not go out exploring. The villa is for sleeping purposes only. Unless of course you take a guy back there to screw his brains out. Then by all means, lock yourself in.”

“I am hanging up now.”

He chuckled. “Enjoy.”

She had every intention of doing that. The smiling driver insisted on helping her with her luggage and carried her cases as far as the doorway of the rustic looking weatherbeaten place that was set way back from the road.

“Grazi.” She tipped him generously and had him beaming at her as he made his way back to his vehicle. She was left alone to wander the small but efficient rooms, starting with the beautiful ivory walls and antique furnishings. This place would be hers for the entirety of three weeks. There was even a bicycle in the foyer.

“I am told it’s better to tour the countryside while riding instead of driving. More to see and admire that way.” Her brother told her. She was exhausted from the long plane ride, and it was already nightfall, with her body grappling with the difference in time. A meal and then bed. But as soon as she had shaken off the jetlag, she was going exploring.

Chapter 3

In retrospect he realized that he should not have taken the vehicle out. That instead of going for a drive to clear his head, he should have gone up to his very comfortable suite of rooms and sat in front of the fire.

Anything except driving slightly tipsy. He was angry and unsettled and had had the same recurring argument with his father. His picture had been in the papers again - a wild party on a friend’s yacht with drinking and carousing and as usual, he had been the one to be highlighted.

The innovative photographer had caught him with his body soaked from the water of the pool, his arms around a blonde and a brunette, women whose names he had not remembered.

The caption had not been very flattering. ‘International playboy at it again. Heir to the Russo kingdom partying like there is no tomorrow. One wonders if that’s all he intends to do.’

His father had been furious, fit to be tied. He had been reminded that the company was in delicate negotiations with a fleet of ships and that negative publicity was not needed.

As if he had courted the press. As if he needed added publicity. He was sick of it. Sick of never being able to go anywhere without having a camera trained on him. What the bloody hell was he supposed to do? Lock himself inside his room?

When he had said as much to his father, his comeback had been:

“You can always straighten your life out and join me at the company which will one day be yours!” He shouted.

So, after a very uncomfortable supper, he had retired to the main drawing room and imbibed. It was not enough for him to be falling down drunk. He could hold his liquor. But he supposed it had been enough to shoot his perception to hell. And to be honest, he had been driving too fast as usual.

He couldn’t even blame the person riding a bike at that time of night. People did it all the time to take in the spectacular view.

One minute he was taking the curve and the next, he was frantically trying to apply his brake. But it was too late. He heard the sickening crunch of metal hitting an object and saw the person flying several feet in the air before landing somewhere on the embankment.

---