Nonetheless, she had to start somewhere.
“I don’t know, Gio. I find myself arriving in Florence with less money than I had planned. Would you know of a reasonably priced hotel?”
“No, actually, I’m sorry I don’t. I grew up here in Florence but I’ve spent many years traveling for business. I no longer know the city.”
Disappointment rung through her. Barcelona had been quite an eye-opener once she discovered that the jeweler to whom she had intended to sell the first of her lot was unwilling to buy what Luciana referred to as her estate pieces without proof of ownership and certifications. She’d made up a story about the jewels belonging to her recently deceased grandmother.
At her begging, that jeweler put her in touch with another jeweler who refused her and sent her to yet another, this one located in a downtrodden part of town. He gave her far less than she had estimated for the first piece. She knew now that this trip would have to be on more of a budget than she’d originally envisioned.
That didn’t matter. At least she was here.
“I’ll need to sell more of my jewels.”
“More of them? Does that mean you have already sold some?”
Yes, but she didn’t need to tell that to Gio.
“I had tried at a shop near the train station. That’s where those boys began following me.”
“Florence is a big city with people both opulent and poor, honest and not. You should watch out at every turn.”
Luciana was already learning that the hard way. But as they turned a corner into a piazza, a public square, her troubles receded and the widest of smiles swept across her face. Here it was. The Florence she’d seen in movies and travel websites, and read about in books. Firenze, the central city of Tuscany, with its centuries of trade and finance, art and medicine, religion and politics.
People moved across the piazza in every different direction. Fashionable girls giggled as they snapped selfies of themselves. A tour group of older travelers dutifully stopped so that their guide could point out landmarks. Four men stood in front of a shop arguing, their loud voices and hand gestures marking them as uniquely Italian. A flock of children chased pigeons, their overjoyed faces bursting with surprise every time one of the birds made an unexpected escape. Two lovers sat close on a bench while they shared a fresh orange, the woman holding the peel in her hand.
Every which way, people wove in between each other to get to where they were going. It was everything the princess had imagined it would be, alive and magnificent under the autumn of the Tuscan sky. She placed her hand over her mouth as she took it all in.
This was what Luciana came to see. To be a part of this city that had always held her fascination, if only for a stolen moment of her lifetime. She drew in a slow breath. The air wasn’t as thick and pure as it was in pristine Izerote. Florence had a particular fragrance, one she suspected it had for centuries.
It smelled like free will.
Which she had never inhaled before.
As if the panorama of all these people and their doings and their businesses and their architecture and their dogs wasn’t enough, Luciana stood witnessing it in the company of a chivalrous, and she had to acknowledge gorgeous, Italian man.
For the first time she took notice of what Giovanni Grassi was wearing. A tweed blazer with a pink button-down shirt and tan tie, jeans with a brown belt and brown oxford shoes. All of impeccable quality. He looked perhaps like a young professor, the type schoolgirls would giggle around but loved to gape at as he explained the important trigonometry equation on a chalkboard behind him. Reluctant hottie. That was the moniker the celebrity websites used for his type.
Hottie, for sure. Reluctant, she didn’t know yet.
“Ah yes, Firenze,” Gio chimed in. “There’s nowhere like it in the world. Some things change, others remain the same as they have for centuries.”
Nothing ever changed in Izerote, Luciana reflected. It lagged far behind the rest of the world in technology and culture and commerce. Her father, King Mario, and his father before him were not forward-thinking rulers like some royal families were. The price they’d paid for the lack of progress was steep, as many residents or their adult children were leaving the island.
However, Princess Luciana was not in Florence to solve the issues of her island, although she didn’t doubt that in this great city of thought and industry many dilemmas of the world had been debated.
“Here’s my situation, Gio,” Luciana started, not knowing what to do about her predicament. One way or another, this trip would come to an end. Either she’d have her three weeks here before she returned to Izerote to marry King Agustin and produce his heirs. Or her father would send someone to hunt after her and her visit would be cut short. Either way, now was all there was, so she had better make every second count. “I have no money. That’s why I need to sell some of my jewels, in order to pay for a hotel room.”
“Sell your jewels. That sounds so positively archaic. You may have noticed this is modern day where people pay for goods and services with credit cards or through apps on their phone,” he said with a cute chuckle that sent a tingle down her spine. What a strange reaction she was having to this total stranger.
She couldn’t explain to him that while she did carry credit cards, she couldn’t use them because they were traceable. That’s why she needed to obtain cash for the trip. “I know, it does sound rather medieval.”
“Have you traveled forward in time? What era are you from?”
“You have no idea how right you are.”
“Are you running from something?”
“You could say that.”
“A mystery woman.”
“You could say that, too.”
“All right, Signorina Luci, if that’s really your name. For how long do you need a hotel room?”
“Three weeks,” she answered with ease. Because it was exactly three weeks and one day until she was to marry. Three weeks. That’s how long she hoped to stay in Florence. If she had her druthers, she’d stay until the last possible minute and arrive back in Izerote just in time to be pinned into her wedding gown. The gown that had already been chosen for her, a chaste lacy puffball with a high neck and long sleeves that was as tight and confining as her impending marriage. Nothing like what she’d wear if the choice was up to her. If, for example, she was to be getting married of her own volition to a tall attractive man with sparkling blue eyes and golden curly hair.
“Three weeks,” he repeated. “And how much do you expect to garner from the sale of those jewels?”
Nowhere near what she thought she might, Luciana mused. So, realistically, considering the price she’d fetched in Barcelona, she quoted Gio a figure. Still unsure if she should be confiding her financial woes to him.
“Twenty-one nights...”
“Twenty-one,” she confirmed knowing that she wouldn’t need a hotel room in Florence on the twenty-second, after her wedding. She winced at the thought of her wedding night and what would be expected of her from King Agustin, a widower who presumably had more experience in the matrimonial bed than she did. Hopefully he’d be patient and compassionate toward her when the time came.
“Then here is how much you’d have to spend each day.” Gio performed a mental calculation and gave her a number that was far less than the rate of the hotels she had been looking at online.
“Do you think I could get a hotel room for that price? It doesn’t need to be fancy, only clean.”
“Luci, for that money I don’t think you could find anything suitable, clean or safe.”
He glanced at his watch.
It wasn’t right to detain this man any longer, despite the fear that was returning in her.
“I’ll figure something out. Thank you again for your assistance.”
“You’re quite welcome. Enjoy Florence,” Gio said and then turn
ed to walk away.
Prompted by his departure, a couple of tears smarted Luciana’s eyes as she blinked them back. Which was ridiculous. She’d come to experience Florence alone. Gio had simply lent a hand to a damsel in distress. He was a stranger, now on his merry way as was appropriate.
After a few steps, he stopped and pivoted back.
“What are you planning to do?”
“I don’t know. If you could point me in the direction of the train station, I’ll go back there.”
“I can try to find you a hotel. Let’s get off the street. Come with me.”
“Oh. No. I’ll be fine.”
He furrowed his brow. “Very well, then. Goodbye, Luci.”
“Goodbye.”
But when he walked away again, anxiety gripped Luciana’s chest. Those boys had really scared her. And not having the cash she needed was a huge problem. She hadn’t pictured herself alone and lost on the street.
“Gio,” she blurted out, quickly catching up with him. “Thank you. I would appreciate your help.”
* * *
Gio stopped in front of a large building with double doors made of oak, each bearing a brass doorknob. Although the structure was hundreds of years old, the fob entry system was proof it had been updated. When the tiny red light on the mechanism turned to green, Gio opened the door and held it wide for Luci to enter. Pulling her suitcase in with him, he then closed the door behind him. He led her through the stone tunnel passageway that kept the inner property well secluded from the busy streets of Florence.
The tunnel was a short distance, allowing Gio to see the sunshine that met it at the other end. He and his brother, Dante, used to play all sorts of games in this tunnel when they were kids.
“Where are we?” Luci asked with understandable trepidation.
“My home,” Gio said as they came into the light of the central courtyard.
“Your home?” Luci began to take in the surroundings.
“My family’s home. No one is here right now, but yes, this is where I grew up.”
Up until a few days ago, Gio hadn’t been home in many months. As the president of research, development and project management for his family’s company, Grasstech, the world’s largest manufacturer of computer components, Gio spent his life traveling among the company’s operations centers all over the world. He touched down in Florence for crucial in-person meetings or for family occasions, but was then soon boarding a plane to his next destination.
“This is so beautiful,” Luci exclaimed as she did a slow 360-degree turnaround in the inner courtyard of the villa compound.
“It’s been in our family for six generations.”
Indeed, Villa Grassi was a special place. It wasn’t a showy high-tech complex befitting the Grassi family’s standing in the computer science world. Instead the property retained its old-world charms, thanks to Gio’s mother, although with plenty of modern conveniences. The villa comprised several stone buildings, all painted in a mustardy yellow color accented by the red terra-cotta roofs and wood trim.
“You live here?” Luci asked, still taking in the details of the central garden.
Mamma mia, but this young woman was pretty. Not just pretty, really, although Gio struggled for the right word to describe her. Soulful, maybe. There was depth in her light brown eyes. They were eyes with questions, eyes that longed. The dark, thick eyebrows that crowned those lovely pools served to set off their radiance even more. The sleek blond hair read as stylish, not that Gio knew much about fashion. Her petite frame was dressed with polish in her black skirt and gray blazer.
Why did this upscale-looking young woman have only jewels and no money? Something was quite off here, which Gio found suspicious. He would forever keep up his guard after the disastrous mistake he’d made in Hong Kong by trusting the wrong person. People weren’t always who they said they were.
It seemed all but impossible that this woman in front of him could have somehow staged the incident with the boys on the street so that she could bump into him. That she had known where he was coming from and where he was headed. However, he’d learned the hard way that some people would say or do anything to get what they were after. Danger came in all shapes and sizes.
“I didn’t understand what you said. Do you live here?”
“Not since childhood,” he answered, still sizing her up. “But now I am home, so it seems.”
The two-story main house anchored the buildings. Five steps led to the front door, constructed of the same oak as the door to the street. He looked up to the second-floor window that was his boyhood bedroom. Like all the windows, the sill was adorned with boxes holding plants in bright reds, oranges and yellows befitting the fall season. Beside it was the window in his brother Dante’s bedroom. Late at night they’d tie up sheets to hold on to and swing into each other’s bedrooms like Tarzan. Gio smiled at the antics of his daredevil brother, who hadn’t changed a bit even as an adult.
In the courtyard, a cast-stone fountain gurgled with water, surrounded by the benches where his grandparents used to spend their afternoons. His grandfather would good-naturedly yell at Gio and Dante to slow down as they played their racing games in the tunnel. Their grandmother, content to sit for hours with her needlework, would ply the boys with blood orange juice from their fruit trees to drink, the color of which was still Gio’s favorite hue in the world.
“We use the cottages now.” Gio pointed to the two outbuildings beside the house, both of which had entrances that faced the courtyard.
“You said we. Who is we?”
“My brother, Dante, and I. And other relatives who come to stay. My parents still live in the big house when they’re here, but we have a vineyard and winery in the countryside where they spend most of their time now that they’ve retired.” His father had built Grasstech from a small purveyor of computer central processing units, known as CPU chips, into the multibillion-dollar conglomerate it was today. “Dante is working with our affiliates in India, now that...”
Gio was glad he stopped himself. Luci didn’t need to know that Dante had failed at helming the company, which was why Gio had returned to Florence to do just that. Oversharing information had gotten him into trouble in the past, some of which he still needed to find a way to clean up.
In the silence of stopping himself, he focused on Luci’s attentive face. There was something utterly enchanting about her, with that long stately neck and those curious eyes. She was much shorter than he had noticed at first. Of course, with him so tall, almost everyone was petite to him. Her bowed pink lips complemented her porcelain skin. Her posture was so straight and that throat so graceful she could pass for a noblewoman or a young duchess. Yet she had an inner spunk that made the thought of her as a stuffy royal thoroughly implausible.
Good heavens! Women should be the last thing on Gio’s mind now that he’d returned home with a to-do list a mile long. And it was a woman who had got the company into trouble in the first place. He would be staying far away from them.
“That’s the Duomo!” Luci pointed to the top of the dome visible in the distance past the villa walls. Florence’s cathedral was one of the most identifiable sights in the city.
“Have you been inside?”
Her enthusiasm was contagious.
“No. I’m looking forward to seeing it. This is my first time in Florence. You rescued me just as I arrived.”
A little wiggle traveled between his shoulder blades when she said the word rescued.
Now that he had, in fact, rescued her, what was he going to do with her? He’d find her a hotel. But some of Grasstech’s investors were in town for dinner and he needed to get dressed, so it had to be quick. He wasn’t looking forward to all their chitchat that bored him to tears. Nothing of substance was ever discussed at these things. Plus they’d all be bringing their stodgy spouses. The wives would ask why a nice y
oung man like him didn’t have a wife or a girlfriend.
With enough on his mind already, Luci’s problems couldn’t become his. Yet she’d been so shaken by those nasty boys following her, she finally accepted his offer of help.
She readjusted her purse on her shoulder, the one that contained her jewels. “May I ask you, Gio, would there be any hotel at any price that you could recommend for the night? I’ll have to reevaluate my budget, but I do need somewhere for tonight.”
He could give it a try. Pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket, he punched in a hotel search, hoping he’d recognize the names of some that were reputable.
“Yes,” he spoke after calling one. “Do you have any rooms available for tonight? I see. Grazie.”
He phoned another. “Have you a room tonight? No? Grazie.” After three more, his patience was up.
“That’s all right, Gio,” Luci said, although the quaver in her voice belied her words. “I’ll find somewhere.”
With her obvious lack of street savvy? What if some other criminals tried to take advantage of her like the boys did with the jewelry? He might not know this vulnerable young woman, but a gentleman was a gentleman and he could not send her away alone.
“Why don’t you stay here tonight?” Gio voiced the thought that had been bubbling up, despite raising caution. “I’m staying in this one.” He pointed to one of the side-by-side cottages. “Why don’t you sleep in the other?” He hoped that suggestion wouldn’t prove to be a mistake, but he couldn’t think of what else to do. He’d station her here, and the staff at his office could help get her situated tomorrow.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t.” Luci quickly shook her head with a side-to-side motion. “It wouldn’t be right.”
He put his hand over his heart in mock insult. “What do you take me for? I assure you I offer only to fulfill my quota of rescuing beautiful maidens from the mean streets of Florence.”
Was he flirting with her?
“How are you doing so far?”
The Italian's Runaway Princess Page 2
