Page 19 of His Two Hidden Masks

Lips pursed, Lissa handed me my underwear, tights, skirt, and sweater, which were strewn in a line as if I’d dropped them one-by-one before climbing into bed. My bra lay behind me, I could feel the scratch of the lacy cups against my backside.

Lissa turned to give me privacy as I dressed. I slipped on my underwear and tights under the covers.

“Lissa, would you mind not mentioning this to anyone?” I asked, fastening my bra and pulling my sweater on over my head. “My parents are such worriers.”

“Of course,” Lissa said, giving me a smile over her shoulder. “How we ladies deal with insomnia is also nobody’s business.”

I got out of bed and smoothed down the covers.

Lissa shook her head at me. “Don’t bother. We will re-make it,” she said, walking to the door. She paused with her hand on the knob and looked back at me.

“I’m glad to see you taking care of yourself too, Bella. I’ve been worried about you…” Her voice trailed off.

“Thank you,” I said, surprised, as tears filled my eyes.

“Go down to the lobby before you go home.” She held the door open for us both. “You should have coffee before you start your day.”

“Good idea.” A quick cappuccino sounded delicious and then I would head straight home. I didn’t want to risk running into James, and I planned on spending the day practicing my pitch and prepping for tomorrow’s board meeting.

As the door to the Lover’s Suite closed behind us, I stole a glance at the bed, remembering James. I could still feel the touch of his hands, his mouth on my lips, his body connecting with mine.

My body hummed with the memory of pleasure. It was so good, so satisfying. I asked myself, was it worth it? Without hesitation I knew the answer.

Yes, a thousand times, yes.

Lissa continued on her rounds as I walked down the main staircase scanning the lobby for James. The hotel was at capacity for Carnival, but it was quiet. A lone elderly couple sat by the fireplace enjoying coffee and brioche.

I wondered if James had gotten up early for breakfast. Would he return to his room expecting to find me there? We agreed to one night and it was more likely I’d never see him again. The thought made me feel sad, which I knew was madness.

Paolo stood behind the front desk wearing a grey suit and black tie. He looked focused, but tired. I knew he had been on the night shift and expected he would be off soon. I was so grateful that I’d managed to sneak inside without him seeing me.

“Buongiorno, Isabella Carmen,” he said, glancing up and giving me a warm smile. Paolo was the only person in my life who consistently addressed me by my first and second name.

“Buongiorno, Paolo,” I said, walking past the front deck to the espresso bar.

Paolo had worked the front desk of the Mia Sorella for as long as I could remember. With round wire rimmed glasses and white bushy hair that encircled his bald head like a crown, Paolo looked a bit like a mad professor.

I drew two espresso shots, steamed whole milk and poured everything into a porcelain white cup. It smelled delicious and comforting in my hands.

I crossed the black-and-white tile floor of the lobby and sat my cup on the marble counter of the front desk right by Paolo. He was still busy on the computer. I cleared my throat to get his attention.

“How may I help you this morning, Isabella Carmen?” Paolo said, glancing up as he continued to type away.

“Are we sold out?” I said, sliding the silver candy dish of my signature hand-dipped, black-salted caramels across the marble counter top.

“Indeed, we are, which is a nice change of pace,” Paolo said. I knew what he meant. Capacity at the Mia Sorella had been declining. A full house at Carnival was a given, there were few hotel rooms left anywhere in the city.

Paulo hit a key with vigor and looked up with an idea. “Oh, I do have news for you. Good news.”

“I’m always interested in good news.” I unwrapped one of my caramels and popped it into my mouth. Chocolate for breakfast was pure bliss.

“One of our guests inquired about purchasing a box of your caramels,” Paolo said, his eyebrows dancing. “Apparently, a friend of hers had taken some home from her trip and shared them with her. It was one of the reasons she picked our hotel.”

I stopped chewing. This was the validation that I needed ahead of the board meeting. It had been a struggle to get my parents to agree to even offer my candies as hospitality gifts to our guests.

We now included them in the turn-down service and offered a bottomless dish of caramels at the front desk and in the restaurant.

It was a labor of love, my love. I had no delusions about the financial problems facing all of my family’s properties, but I believed my caramels elevated the experience of staying at our hotel. The fact that a guest had asked about bringing some of my candies home made my presentation even more timely.

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