Dreaming Of... Italy: Daring to Trust the Boss / Reunited with Her Italian Ex / The Forbidden Prince. SUSAN MEIERЧитать онлайн книгу.
stopped. Never relaxed. Everything was work to him.
And she supposed she had her answer for how he’d climbed his way from foster child to billionaire. He worked all the time.
They arrived at Constanzo’s country villa and Vivi nearly broke her neck looking around, trying to see everything at once. Trees and shrubbery provided privacy. Lush green grass bordered stone walks that took them to the front door of a stone house that could have been hundreds of years old but had been updated.
“Welcome! Welcome!” Wearing dress pants and a short-sleeved shirt, open at the neck, Constanzo greeted them in the foyer. A colorful tile stairway with a black iron railing led to the second floor. Antique tables along the walls held vases of fresh flowers. Though the house was big, it wasn’t the stuffy mansion Vivi had expected a billionaire to live in. Beautiful and colorful, it was also homey.
Constanzo hugged Vivi then Tucker. “My staff is putting your things in your rooms. Would you like time to freshen up?”
Vivi yawned. “Actually, I’d like a nap. I couldn’t sleep on the plane.” Her brain had been so jumpy she hadn’t been able to relax. So she’d pulled her book out of her purse and read for most of the flight.
Constanzo laughed. “Vivi, Vivi. The best way to get accustomed to a new time zone is to pretend your body is already on our time.”
“I’ve been up twenty-four hours! I’ll never make it.”
Constanzo put his arm around her shoulder. “Of course, you will. It’ll be bedtime here before you know it.” He led her up the winding staircase. “Take a shower, put on fresh clothes. Something comfortable like jeans and I’ll show you around. We’ll go to a little café in town for lunch, then come back here for supper.”
“Or she could take a nap by the pool while you and I discuss business.”
In her tired state, she’d actually forgotten that Tucker was behind them. But she wasn’t surprised he wanted to talk details of their deal. He was here to work.
Constanzo laughed. “Before we discuss business, you have a mission.”
“Yes, but there are plenty of details we could—”
Constanzo made the “pfft” noise again. “We’ll get to the details after I show Vivi around.”
For the first time since she’d become Tucker’s right-hand girl, she got a tug of assistant responsibility. Now that she understood a little about him and his work ethic, she knew what she had to do. “Actually, I’d rather see the town on a day when I’m rested.” She smiled at her host. “Besides I have a feeling I could spend the day exploring your villa and the grounds.”
Constanzo waved his hand dramatically. “Then that’s what you’ll do.”
She laughed. Constanzo showed her to a little room decorated lavishly in shades of lavender and white. A June breeze fluttered the sheer white curtains, bringing with it the scent of fresh grass and wild flowers.
“This room is beautiful. Like art.”
“Life is art. It’s to be enjoyed.” Constanzo opened the door on a stunning bathroom with white marble tiles and showed her a closet where her clothes already hung.
“Your staff is fast!”
“They like their jobs and want to keep them.”
“So, Tucker and I will leave you to explore. If you need a swimsuit, dial five-one on the phone and explain what you want. We have plenty for guests. And my staff speaks English.”
She smiled her thanks and he and Tucker left.
She breathed in the scent of fresh air, something she hadn’t smelled since her last visit to Kentucky, and twirled around. She was in Italy! On the estate of a billionaire! She fought the urge to pinch herself and, instead, slipped out of her sandals.
The bed called to her but she agreed with Constanzo that the best way to adjust to her current time zone would be to eat, drink and sleep at the appropriate times. Which meant she had to entertain herself for the next few hours.
After a quick call to the staff, a maid brought her a raspberry-colored one-piece swimsuit in the size she requested. The tags had been trimmed, but she could tell the suit was new.
She showered, shimmied into the tight spandex suit, slid into the cover-up and big straw sunhat the staff had also provided, and grabbed her book before she made her way downstairs. To the right were closed double doors. A formal dining room, complete with crystal chandelier, sat on the left. A slim hall ran down the middle. She followed the corridor to a huge great room. Floral sofas flanked by crystal lamps dominated the room. Huge double doors provided a view of the pool, its blue water sparkling in the sun.
She walked through the double doors onto a gray stone patio to a row of canvas chaise lounges. Kicking off her shoes, she tossed her book to the chair so she could remove the white lace cover-up.
When she finally had herself settled on the chaise, the June sun warmed her and giddy peace filled her. She was in Italy. Italy. She’d ridden a private jet across the Atlantic, driven in a limo, been brought to a villa where maids unpacked her meager belongings and now she lounged by a pool.
* * *
After leaving Olivia in her room, Constanzo had shown Tucker to the lavish suite he would be using. He’d suggested Tucker might want a nap or maybe a few minutes to freshen up. But Tucker insisted they use the time to hash out some of the details of the conglomerate acquisition. So Constanzo had led him to a den at the back of the first floor.
A pool table sat in the center of the room. Four big-screen TVs, one for each wall, hung in strategic spots. A bar that looked like an old English pub took up the back corner.
Constanzo immediately strode to the bar. “So what’s your pleasure?”
“Details. You’re offering me a billion-dollar conglomerate. I’d think the first order of business would be to stipulate how we’ll determine market value.”
“No! No!” Constanzo laughed. “I meant your drink. You like American bottled beer or what I have on tap?”
Tucker held back a sigh of impatience and politely said, “I’ll try what you have on tap.”
Constanzo drew two drafts and handed one to Tucker.
“Thanks. So how are we going to determine market value?”
Constanzo pushed a button and a dartboard appeared. “We could use the numbers in my annual statement.”
“And disregard what’s happened since it was released? How do I know your companies haven’t gone down in value?”
He opened a carved box filled with darts that lined both the bottom of the box and its lid, and offered them to Tucker. “Because you’ve been watching me. You know exactly what I’m worth.”
Tucker chuckled. He took a dart, aimed at the board and made a bull’s-eye.
“Ah. A real challenge for me today!”
Tucker sighed. “You’re not going to talk business, are you?”
“No. You’re tired from your trip. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Right. Don’t try to kid somebody who makes his living knowing when people are lying to him.”
“All right. You want to be blunt. We will be blunt. If you can’t deliver my son to me, totally understanding my position—that his mother contacted me once, on a busy day, when I was so overwhelmed I barely registered what she said, let alone had brain power to believe it—then you don’t get my company.”
“So there’s no point in talking specifics?”
“Exactly.” As he spoke, Constanzo opened the drapes of the den, revealing his shimmering pool. The gray stone outdoor space had furniture groupings that ran the