Page 28 of Mr Billionaire Boss Grump

“Mrs Peabody was happy with her picture? Yes?”

“Oh ecstatic. I just came from her house. I can’t imagine what her insurance premiums are. Her collection in that house…” I did some mental calculations. “…it’s worth more than a billion dollars, I think. Like serious money.”

“And she’s your friend too! Oh, and then you have your poor friends. Us.” Desmond looks across at Sandy who gives his knee a quick squeeze. Silence hangs in the air for a moment or two.

“Sorry, guys. There’s so much going on in my head just now. I feel as if I’m on a rollercoaster white-knuckle ride and I’m just about hanging on.”

“Alright, babe. Take your time. Have a drink. Relax and say whatever comes to mind.”

Chapter 24

Gianni

Ileftamessagefor Olivia that Mrs Peabody’s painting was ready and that I was going to drop it off for her at the Hotel Grande. I could have asked someone else to do this, but I felt it wouldn’t be right. I feel that this is my responsibility and in the light of recent events to not show up would appear dishonorable and cowardly. Also, I wanted to see Olivia and apologize for what I said at the restaurant.

After the shock of finding out Libby and Olivia are one and the same, I’ve had time to think and process my reaction. Yes, I was surprised. My first and, possibly, only love is an employee of mine who I didn’t even recognize. The girl I met years ago has changed so much. And yet, if the connection between us back then is still alive, I would be a fool not to give it another chance. People are who they are. The essence of a person stays the same, doesn’t it? I still feel I am the same Gianni as I was ten years ago, so perhaps Libby does too. I have a second chance to find out if the love that I felt is real and lasting or is just a passing infatuation. Libby and I shared something beautiful, and I am prepared to explore the possibility that something beautiful still exists.

Olivia is waiting for me in the lobby. I am doing my best to be professional and businesslike, to keep my emotions in check. The receptionist is at the desk, which diffuses my tense apprehension somewhat.

“Buongiorno, Olivia.” She doesn’t look at me directly. “Thank you for coming to Firenze for the painting.” Awkward disappointment is written on her face.

“No problem,” she offers quietly. Unsaid words clang around the empty space of the lobby. I hand over the brown-paper wrapped package.

“It is only Mrs Peabody’s painting,” I explain. “The other panels are still at the restorers. I didn’t want to keep you, or Mrs Peabody, waiting any longer than necessary.” Olivia nods then she darts a sideways look at the reception desk. “So,” I continue. “We will see each other in New York, next time.” I don’t know what to do with my hands, so they get shoved in my pockets. This is not the time or the place to explain how I feel.

“Yes. Probably.” A long minute chugs by.

“Ma’am, your taxi is on its way,” the receptionist says smiling kindly. “And I have your bill here when you are ready.”

“Great, thank you,” says Olivia. She goes to the reception desk, places the painting carefully on the counter, and opens her bag to find her wallet. She extracts a credit card and hands it to the receptionist. I turn to leave but then stop.

“Ummm. Olivia,” I begin. She turns to face me. “The painting of the Ponte Vecchio. The one I gave you, by Bartoli. Do you still have it?”

Olivia thinks for a moment. “No. No, I don’t,” she says. Then with eyes wide, color rising to her cheeks she follows with, “Why? Do you want it back?”

“No! No, not at all.” I relax a little and sigh. “I just remember our time back then as being special, so I hoped that you still had the picture as a…”

“Yes. I remember our time as being special.”

“Olivia. I hope we can…” I raise a hand, palm to the ceiling, but I don’t finish the sentence. I rearrange my words. “We will see each other in New York.”

“Sure. Yes,” she says tentatively. The taxi arrives. Olivia collects her things. She holds Mrs Peabody’s painting in her hands like a shield. “I should go,” she says.

Chapter 25

Olivia

Iquitmyjobtoday. I handed in a written notice to Margot when I arrived at Mayfair & Lewis as normal. According to my contract, I need to give three weeks’ written notice. So, here I am nervously serving out the final days of paid work for the foreseeable future. I am exhilarated but also terrified.

Fortunately for me, Gianni is still in Italy and won’t be back before my end date. I couldn’t bear the awkwardness of seeing him again. It was bad enough before I left Florence when he came to the hotel to hand over Mrs Peabody’s painting. Why didn’t he send someone else? That would have been the obvious thing to do.

Margot is mildly interested in my resignation.

“Have you been snapped up by one of our competitors?” she asks with eyebrows raised above the frames of her glasses. “Is it a step up?”

“No. Nothing like that.” I don’t want to give too much away. I say I’m leaving for personal reasons and leave it at that. Personal reasons could be a family tragedy, so no one asks. And I don’t furnish the details.

The question of reduced cash flow is at the forefront of my mind. Whether I’ll be able to stay in my apartment without the monthly check is a concern, but I have a plan. Kind of.

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