by Amy McKinley
“I’m so sorry.” She dabbed at the corner of her eye. “I take it he hadn’t met Stone, or I’m sure he wouldn’t have been as concerned about your future.”
I waved that thought away with a grin. “We weren’t dating then, but he shouldn’t have had a single concern. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. Meeting Stone was…” I paused because this part was something I didn’t even like admitting to myself and too close to the truth. “Unexpected. Yet like running into someone I’d known my entire life. Weird, I know, but there’s this connection, attraction, I can’t deny.” Stone was mid-sip when he choked. Guess he was listening. I patted his back then took a deep breath. I’d come this far, may as well say the last thing on my mind. “I’ve never felt this way with anyone else.”
“Well, I think you’re good for him. I’ve run into Stone a time or two during functions I’ve attended with Vince, and he always struck me as very driven. Not a bad thing, but you balance that with fun, injecting a little spontaneity into his workaholic world.” Her hand rested on Vince’s arm. “It’s something I do for Vince as well.”
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but your children don’t want to get into the family business?” I sensed rather than felt Stone’s focused attention beside me.
“Sadly, no. Our son went into the military and is making a career out of it. Our daughter doesn’t have a head for the hotel business and instead went into fashion design. She is doing that in her spare time while she stays home with her son and the new one soon to be born. With the sale of the Bianca, we plan to add to their trust funds and our grandkids’ college accounts.”
“That’s lovely. It’s wonderful that you don’t put pressure on them to take over your legacy if they don’t want to.”
Our food arrived, and we fell silent for a few minutes. Stone had selected several side dishes as well as our main ones, and I enjoyed the decadent tastes. I kept eyeing Stone’s grilled mackerel until he held a forkful for me to try. Holy crap, each plate was just as wonderful, if not better, than the last. My eyes rolled back in my head at the flavors. I tasted my dish again. So good, but I wanted his. I narrowed my eyes until he swapped our plates.
“My mistake.” He grinned. “I should have ordered double.”
“Yes, you should have.” I’d tried, but I couldn’t leave it alone. “Vince, I overheard you talking about hotelier Arnold Pierce and his feud with his business partner. It’s a shame the Grande Victorian is in jeopardy. Pierce claimed bankruptcy and fled the country, correct?”
“He did. Leaving Nick Reynolds as sole owner. From my understanding, he’s trying to renegotiate the loans and save the hotel.”
“I read an article that Nick has original artwork from Pablo Picasso and Amedeo Modigilani that he inherited from his great grandfather. Should you and Stone decide to partner with him, you could do something with the art. Change the scope of the hotel so that there are private viewings available to the guests in a secure room, possibly with a dining experience? There could be other avenues to explore there as well. But definitely upscale.”
Vince’s brows arched high on his forehead, and Stone chuckled. “She’s a surprise, isn’t she? Should we decide to enter into business with Nick, we’ll have Adeline execute her vision. What she comes up with turns to gold.”
While Stone and Vince hashed out possibilities, Margaret and I chatted about the artists who originated from Venice. Dinner flew by, and before I knew it, we were heading back to our room. Fog rolled in, making the narrow alleyways dangerous for those who didn’t know their way. A few ended on water. To step off the path into murky depths didn’t hold appeal, even if there was an eerie romantic quality to the hazy mist. I was glad for the sureness of our hosts and the assurance that Stone wouldn’t let anything happen to me.
“I love that restaurant,” I said to Vince and Margaret as we walked to the hotel. Stone’s hand settled on my hip, pulling me tight to his side.
“It’s one of our favorites,” Vince said as Margaret hugged me. He and Stone shook hands, and we said goodnight and then stepped into the elevator.
“We’ll have to do this again,” Stone said.
“Definitely.” Vince’s grin stretched even farther.
I moved to put some space between Stone and me, the buzzing awareness every time I was close to him—or he touched me—messing with my head. While the evening had been wonderful, what was between us was a farce, and I needed to keep my emotions and reactions to him in check when we were alone.
After the elevator doors closed, he glanced at my discarded heels. A brow raised in amusement. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
His deep voice sent goose bumps dancing over my bare skin. I bent and picked them up, letting the shoes dangle from my fingertips. “No one’s watching us.”
“Hmm.”
I narrowed my gaze; those noncommittal answers of his drove me crazy. “The dinner went well. I think your chance of winning the contract is significantly higher than George and Anne Fielding.”
“Thanks to you.” The elevator doors opened, and he ushered me into the hallway with a hand on the small of my back. Pretty sconces were spaced along the walls, softly lighting our way.
“It’s beautiful here.”
Stone pushed open our door, and I stepped inside to walls decorated in neutral tans with an exquisite handwoven oriental rug covering most of the hardwood floor. A plush loveseat faced its twin, making up an inviting sitting area. I swept my gaze around the room that touched on old-world elegance with exquisite paintings until alarm shot through. “Wait. Why is there only one door leading off this room?” Please be two beds… I could handle that better than having to share. I didn’t think either one of us would be comfortable sleeping on anything in the living room.
Stone loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. “It’s not ideal, but we are trying to convince them we’re engaged. What do you think two beds, or an adjoining room, would have told them?”
I tilted my head to the side. He had a point. It didn’t mean I was happy about sleeping in the same bed with my boss.
With determination, I swept past him into the bedroom. A king-size poster bed greeted me. That was all I could see, not the dressers or the gauzy curtains. I can do this. With renewed purpose, I went to the dresser, seeing that the hotel staff unpacked my bag.
Scanning which graphic tee fit my mood, I grabbed it and sleep shorts, stomping to the bathroom first, an evil glare thrown his way for good measure. One bed? Door shut and locked, I brushed my teeth and cursed him some more. Who would’ve known if we had two queens? Or better yet, a full suite with two bedrooms?
Face washed and my PJ’s on, I left my little sanctuary to find him pulling his shoes off. His tie was missing, and several buttons were undone on his shirt, exposing taut skin and… my mouth dropped open. Then my fingers twitched, desperate to run over all those forbidden muscles flexing as he stood.
“We need to set some ground rules.” More for me—the goal was too important. I couldn’t complicate whatever this was by messing around with my boss.
A too enticing, crooked grin curved his kissable lips as he read my T-shirt. I shook my head. Focus!
“I see you’re wearing the rules?”
I nodded. That was why I picked this shirt. My love of graphic tees was vast. I had a saying for every possible mood I could have. This one said: Nope, not today. That rule was good enough for now. I couldn’t come up with anything more. Stone, out of his shirt, muddled my cognitive abilities. I got into bed, turned my back on him, and willed myself to sleep.
Five minutes later, the dip in the mattress sent a fresh surge of alarm through my veins, and my body shifted toward him. Scrambling back to my spot, I lay there, frozen. When nothing happened, I relaxed a little. Nothing would happen. I almost snorted at what this was—my reactions to him, not his to me. He wasn’t interested in me. I was seriously delusional.
Chapter 8
Adeline<
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My eyes popped open, and I went from a deep sleep to reluctantly awake and groggy. Something was different. My body was on fire, and the mattress was hard beneath me, not soft as I’d thought. Aside from the discomfort to find the bathroom, I didn’t want to get up. Seconds ticked by and reality seeped into my consciousness, and in its wake, a rush of panic.
Not the mattress—I was sprawled across Stone.
Notmylifenotmylife.
Please be asleep. My left leg entwined between his, and I was lying over his bare chest. My face burned in mortification. I was violating my own rule, the one I had printed on my T-shirt: nope, not today. Ugh. Maybe not last night, but apparently, my body interpreted the message that this morning was fair game.
For a few seconds, I studied his features. Lashes too long to be fair dusted over his cheeks. My gaze explored from his sleep-mussed hair to his very kissable, dangerous lips. With a slow blink, I steeled myself to make my escape. Being this close to him was messing with my resolve, and that was another humiliation I couldn’t face—his rejection and my sure-to-follow tanked career.
I inched off him while fighting the urge to explore the ridges and valleys of his chest. My arms shook as I pushed up and eased back, taking care not to make any sudden movements. Because I didn’t think I would live down the embarrassment. And they were wracking up. I spilled coffee on his desk, then I tripped and face-planted onto his crotch, and now this?
When my feet were on the floor, I hightailed it into the bathroom. After a quick shower, I yanked on a pair of yoga pants and another graphic tee. As I snuck from our room in search of coffee, I took in the empty bed. He was awake.
Pulling up my proverbial big-girl panties, I left the bedroom to face Stone. Hopefully, he didn’t have a clue that I’d used him for a full-body pillow throughout the night.
The intoxicating scent of coffee lured me to the dining table like a siren’s song, and right to where Stone worked on his laptop. Not ready to see the look on his face, I ducked my head, so my hair curtained around my face, then grunted “morning.”
His response was distracted, and some of the utter embarrassment faded. I poured myself a generous cup of coffee and snagged a pastry from a huge array of food. Oh, God, there was so much. My brain short-circuited from the sensory overload of the many choices spread out on the table, and my mouth watered. There was scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon—my focus went there. I wiped beneath my mouth, making sure the drool was imaginary. Nothing else mattered until I got my hands on that. I prepared to eat my weight in food. Because—have an emotion, will eat.
I filled a plate to overflowing and plopped down across from him. His gaze flicked up, and after a second, his lips twitched. I rolled my eyes. “Go ahead. Out with whatever’s amusing.” My hair was washed and not a giant rat’s nest anymore, so it couldn’t be that.
“Two things.”
I huffed, secretly hoping it wasn’t about how I’d invaded his personal space while sleeping. May as well continue to shovel bacon in my mouth while waiting to hear something else that would inflame my face.
“Your T-shirt.”
I glanced down to double-check which one I’d worn. Yep, that was the one I wanted; it fit my mood. It said: Never trust an atom. They make up everything.
“And the sheer amount of food you eat while you look like you weigh about a hundred pounds.”
I shrugged. “Fast metabolism. My mom was the same way.”
He shook his head as a chime from an incoming email sounded. His focus shifted, and I went back to the bacon. I wouldn’t let his workaholic tendencies deter me from finishing my breakfast.
Mission accomplished and stomach full, I leaned back, took sips of my second cup of life-giving coffee, and let my gaze wander over his messed-up hair and rumpled dress shirt from last night. My fingers drummed on the top of the table while I alternated from looking at him and the windows. If we stayed in this room, there was a much better way to spend the time than glued to a laptop. And on that note. “When are we heading out to explore Venice?”
“We aren’t. I have a lot of work to do, but you can.”
That wasn’t going to work for me. “If Vince or Margaret find out we stayed in the hotel room all day after we told them we would be exploring, it wouldn’t look great. It would make us liars, and we don’t want to alert them to that fact so early, do we?”
“I didn’t say I was going to do any of those sightseeing things. You did.”
“Doesn’t matter. They think we both will, and it doesn’t show a promising side to our relationship if we aren’t arm-in-arm and exploring the city. And we have a contract—I won’t let you sabotage my efforts by staying in.” I motioned for the computer. “Why don’t you go shower, and I’ll work on whatever it is you need done?”
His brow rose, and a speculative gleam flashed in his eyes. That was better than the partial ignoring he’d been doing.
“I’m working my way through the tasks. I’ll agree to sightseeing today, but I need to head back tonight. We’re not staying the whole weekend.” He swung the laptop around so I could see the long list of things he had planned to get done. “Have at it.”
Oh, I would. As soon as he stood from the table, I got to work, excited about my win. I read the partial response he’d typed to one of his employees. It was good. I liked how his brain worked; he was smart, fast, and efficient. But so was I, and we could knock this work out together in no time at all.
It didn’t take long for Stone to get ready, and I filled him in on the progress I’d made to his workload. We would put another hour or two in on the way back to Verona. I swapped out my graphic tee for a sundress, and we left the room. In keeping with what I wanted to see, we agreed to visit Doge’s Palace as our first stop, thankful for the tickets Margaret had managed to get to us before we left. They were waiting at the hotel’s reservation desk and would allow us to bypass the huge line to get into the palace.
I’d planned for us to take a gondola ride back to the Bianca later so we could pack and check out. After arriving via water taxi, we strolled through the city while weaving amidst the throngs of tourists. Stone pointed out bits of history along the way, and I fell deeper in love with the city of bridges.
We purchased a snack as we neared our first stop. Our hands brushed against each other as we traveled through the narrow street, and finally, we threaded our fingers together as we’d awkwardly done in the hotel. After doing so several times already, the move felt natural, familiar. When we came across Doge’s Palace, I stopped in my tracks. Stone let go of my hand and instead slipped his arm around my waist. I leaned against him while taking in the sheer artwork that was the palace. Symbolism of strength, justice, prayer, and government wove through the sculptures and beautifully designed façade.
Once inside, we wandered through the museum, admiring the artwork explicitly crafted for the building. As we walked, Stone and I discussed the various movements and how the styles changed with the influence of the time period. I shared my love of impressionism and artists like Claude Monet. We debated the different schools from expressionism to abstract and how neither of us was too fond of some of them aside from a select few artist. Where we found common ground was in photorealism and realism. Excitement thrummed through me with each new point he brought up or countered, and I couldn’t stop smiling over how much fun I was having. Time ceased to matter while we strolled hand in hand through famous exhibits, and I didn’t want it to end.
I could have spent an entire day here, but there would be other opportunities. We exited the palace on the Grande Canal side and stepped onto the Bridge of Sighs. The corridor connected to the first floor of the prison. In the passage, our steps slowed, and I mulled over Stone’s aversion to the lower level at the Verona hotel. “I get the impression you want out of Hotel Destino, that it’s not your favorite project.”
My sundress swirled around my legs as we paused near the middle of the Bridge of Sighs and leaned against the stone. One of the
windows offered a view of the canal below us. The passage was busy, and people moved around us in the tight corridor.
A gondola passed beneath the bridge, and I couldn’t help the small smile at the sight, despite the heavy weight of despair that clung to the stones within the walls. The thought that those who had crossed this bridge so many years ago would never experience the beauty of Venice again as they parted from their love ones to endure the finality of prison, and often the end of their lives, was crushing. The sense of loss warred with the romance of the floating island, and sadness seeped into my bones. Before I sunk too low, Stone’s voice startled me back to the present as he answered my previous question.
“The hotel in Venice is different. I had a compulsion to buy the one in Verona. For years after a trip to Italy, I couldn’t stop thinking about Hotel Destino. Then one day, I heard rumors the owner was contemplating selling. That was my chance.” A breeze ruffled his dark hair, and I half-turned, riveted by the faraway look that settled over his features. “I didn’t expect to feel the way I do onsite. The longer I’m there, the worse I sleep, and the more I’m unsettled.”
He fell silent, and I wasn’t sure if I should interject, but I wanted to understand what he meant because I, too, felt a pull to the hotel. With a tap of my fingers against the stone, I dug deeper with my questions. “And last night? Did you sleep well, or were you still tied to the urgency driving you to complete the Verona project?”
A wolfish grin curved his lips as he leaned forward to peer through one of the tiny windows, his body partially turned toward me. “Best night I’ve had in a long time.”
I pressed my lips together to stop from blurting anything inappropriate. The sensation of his solid body beneath mine when I woke flooded my mind, and I could think of little else. If only I could call my friend, Eileen, and confide in her right now. I knew what she’d tell me to do. She’d say go for it. But my future… Would crossing the line like we had compromise my career goals? That was the only thing that truly held me back.
