Page 212 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

Thawing slightly now she knew he’d had the decency to get medical attention for his two most devoted staff, she nonetheless knew to stand her ground. ‘There’s no guarantee they’ll be better by tomorrow.’ Manhattan, indeed the whole of New York, was currently plagued by a myriad of debilitating viruses. Marcello, though, was one of those infuriating people who never got ill and had little patience for those who did, expecting instantaneous recoveries from the inconveniently afflicted. ‘Let me show you how to fix it for yourself in case you need it tomorrow.’

‘I will call you if it becomes necessary.’

‘It won’t be necessary to call me if you learn to do it yourself.’ Just as it wouldn’t be necessary for him to call her when he fancied a late-night delivery of food if he’d bother installing the apps he’d insisted she install onherphone for the express purpose of ordering delicious goods for him in the hours he thought it unreasonable to wake his live-in staff.

It was the edge in Victoria’s voice that made Marcello look up. Seeing the steel in her eyes, he gave a dramatic sigh. His executive assistant was superb at her job but there were times when she could be a little irritable. He forgave her those touchy episodes only because he didn’t want to have to sack her. It wasn’t the bother of finding a replacement that was at issue—Manhattan’s streets were awash with highly efficient, highly qualified executive assistants—but the bother of having to train someone new. Besides, he liked Victoria’s Irish accent. It was one of the reasons he’d poached her after his last assistant selfishly decided not to return after her maternity leave.

So, rather than point out that Victoria was paid generously in money and perks that included her own apartment to be on call whenever he needed her, he decided to humour her. After all, itwasSunday. ‘Okay, show me how to fix the coffee.’

Marcello’s kitchen was a room he only entered if looking for his staff. This was Christina and Patrick’s domain, and the domain of the executive chefs he hired...well, who his staff hired on his behalf...when he was playing host. One of the many great things about New York was the abundance of staff for hire. For the right price, they would make themselves available whenever he needed, which meant he only needed two staff living in. Of course, Christina and Patrick hired regular workers to assist with the day-to-day chores but those were generally employed during office hours so he could enjoy his home undisturbed.

His specially imported precious coffee beans were kept in the fridge. It was the one thing he insisted on, a habit picked up from his childhood and his father’s insistence that coffee beans remained fresher if kept refrigerated.

His own fridge was a huge triple American one that his mother had gaped in amazement at the first time she’d seen it. From it, Victoria removed the container of beans and carried them over to the coffee pot and placed them on the stainless-steel surface beside it.

Deciding to be a good boy, Marcello stood beside her and pretended to pay attention.

‘Fill it with cold water up to the line,’ she instructed as she ran water into the pot. She was turning the tap off when her phone buzzed.

Sliding her hand into her back pocket, she read the message whilst carrying the pot back to the machine.

The short puff of air she expelled told him she’d just received unwelcome news.

She looked at him. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, he noted. Not that she normally wore much of it but the little she did wear made its absence more noticeable now that he was looking at her face. She hadn’t styled her dark red hair into the tidy ponytail she normally wore either. It was much longer than he’d thought, falling halfway down her back.

‘The deli can’t deliver.’

Assuming she was joking, he laughed.

Not smiling, she held her phone up so he could read the message for himself.

‘Staff shortage due to inclement weather? What does that mean?’

‘It means you should look out of a window.’

‘I knowwhatit means but what I want to know is why it should affect my bagel delivery. I am on the same block. Message back and tell them to get someone to walk it over.’

An eyebrow a browner shade than her hair arched. ‘It says, quite clearly, that they don’t have the staff.’

‘Then call the concierge.’

A sharp rise and fall of her shoulders and then she did as he asked whilst simultaneously adding coffee beans to the machine. It was a short conversation.

‘The on-duty concierge is waiting for more staff to arrive,’ she told him. ‘They should be in a position to send someone out for you within the hour.’

That long? Marcello wanted his bagel now, not in an hour. What was wrong with the world that a bit of snow should cause such inconvenience?

‘The coffee is prepared, it just needs to drip through,’ she added. ‘When the red light turns green, it will be ready to pour.’

‘Great, then you can go and get me a bagel.’

The steel from earlier returned to her eyes. ‘No, Marcello, now I go home.’

‘But I am hungry. It will take you five minutes.’

‘Ten in this weather. It’s my day off and I’ve got plans.’

‘If the weather is as bad as you keep whining about, your plans will have been cancelled.’

---