by Leslie North
“Scusi?” Leonardo asked, stopping half the way to her with his brows arched high enough to crinkle his forehead.
“I’m Stella,” she said, and then added, “Stella Brown,” when Leonardo’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t seem to recognize her, but she knew him. She’d thoroughly researched the talented, billionaire Romano brothers—co-owners of the Romano del Mare—before making her trip halfway across the globe. She’d seen Leonardo’s picture online, but the grainy photographs hadn’t done him justice. The eldest Romano brother looked like an Italian movie star, and Stella had to fight against her desire to simply stare at him like a dreamy-eyed schoolgirl.
Finally, when Leonardo didn’t move, Stella charged forward with her hand extended in preparation for a handshake. But her long, sure gait fumbled when she tripped and fell head long out of control only to end up in Leonardo’s incredibly strong arms, leaning over as if he had dipped her for a kiss. It was humiliating, to say the least, but feeling his long arms wrapped around her, she didn’t care. Instead, she reveled in it. Embraced it. It was the moment she was in, and she would enjoy the pleasures it had to offer rather than wallow in a negative haze of her own perception’s making. Swallowing, she did her best to refocus. She still had a job to do. “I emailed you?” she said as both a question and a statement, staring up into his unbelievably blue eyes. She could lose herself in those eyes. Without her permission, her hand reached up to touch a finger to the tip of Leonardo’s widow’s peak. She wanted to do more. She wanted to trace the contours of his face, but she knew that she needed to behave. Her no-holds-bar zest for life wasn’t within everybody’s comfort zone, and she didn't want to alienate the man she would have to work closely with over the next several months.
Leonardo blinked but continued to hold her as she was, tilted backwards in his arms, until finally Stella offered up her hand between them for a handshake. “Stella Brown. It’s wonderful to meet you.”
That appeared to break the confused spell that Leonardo had apparently been lost in, and Stella was put upright on her feet. He moved her body with the same ease as moving curtains, and his strength made her body want to go limp so that she could melt into his embrace. But she forced herself to stand tall, strong, and on her own when his arms left her and he stepped away.
“I’m sorry. There seems to be confusion. The resort is not yet open to receive visitors, and I must sadly ask you to leave. It is for your own safety, I assure you. The final renovations are still in progress. It would not do to have people wandering around the property before we open our doors to the public.”
“Public? No, no! I’m Stella. Stella Brown. I emailed.” She couldn’t believe she was having to go through all of this again. To say that she had emailed him was a bit of an understatement. She’d sent a barrage of communications, each one with a more intense and direct message than the last. She was coming, all renovations needed to cease, and she would assist them in the creation of new renovation plans which would adhere to the laws regarding the restoration of protected ruins.
Okay, so it was true that she’d never heard back from them. That wasn’t unusual. The owners of historic sites rarely welcomed her organization’s input with open arms. But despite that, the law was on her side, and she would be fierce in her efforts to make the Romano brothers abide by them!
Stella’s body felt energized from head to toe as if ready to zoom into action, but she wasn’t going to fool herself. Getting the Romano brothers to comply with the International Preservation Society’s vision for the Romano del Mare wouldn’t be easy. In fact, it would be an all-out battle. But she was ready for it. She would get them to see things her way.
“Bianca…” Leonardo called out as his gaze stayed locked on Stella. His look was that of someone staring at a madwoman no longer in touch with reality. “Bianca!”
Stella heard the click-clack of high heels and turned to see a young woman walk in the door of Leonardo’s office. She was all curves and had near-black hair with glints of red highlights. Her complexion was flawless, and she wore a pencil skirt that hugged her round hips and accentuated her slim waist.
To Stella’s surprise and embarrassment, she felt her cheeks heat. There was no way that a man as amazingly talented and gorgeous as Leonardo Romano could be around a woman who looked like her and not get involved. Standing so near her, Stella suddenly felt inadequate and all but invisible.
“Bianca,” Leonardo said as he clapped his hands together. Relief, as if he were being rescued, was clear in his face and voice. “This is…” He glanced at her as if having to search his short-term memory for her name, and his pause brought even more heat to Stella’s cheeks. “Stella Brown,” he said with a rush and a little too loudly, as if compensating for not having remembered it right away. “Have you gotten any emails from her?”
“No,” the young woman said, shaking her head. Then, her eyes flew wide. “Oh!” She pointed a finger at Stella. “But those emails were spam. Exclamation marks everywhere. They had to be spam.”
That sealed it. Stella was now so mortified that she wanted to crawl under a rock.
Turning away from Bianca, she returned her attention to Leonardo and found that he was already looking at her. She smiled, but even she could tell that it was weak and strained. “Yes, um…” She cleared her throat. She knew she had to get it together. This moment was her best shot at impressing upon them that they had to listen to her. She was a representative being provided to them to guide them through historic preservation laws. They needed her if they wanted to avoid heavy sanctions that would make the resort unprofitable for years to come. “Those emails were from me,” she said, straightening her shoulders and standing up a little taller. “I apologize for any confusion, it was just that the message I was relaying was of extreme importance. You must cease all renovation efforts at once. Your restoration plans will be reviewed by me, and I will assist you in altering them in whatever manner necessary to keep you in compliance with the laws that govern the restoration of such heritage sites as this medieval monastery.”
Stella stopped speaking long enough to give Leonardo a chance to ask some questions or at least say something, but instead he stood as still as a statue and continued to look at her like she was an alien from outer space.
Stella swallowed hard before continuing. “The crown molding and drywall that has been constructed in various areas of the monastery will need to be torn out. The pool near the cliffs will need to be filled in and the banister removed.” Taking a deep breath, she forged on despite Leonardo’s open look of dismay. “Everything about the monastery will need to be restored back to its most basic elements,”—she steeled herself—“and the property will need to be maintained for minimal public viewing with only parts of it available for use as a resort.”
Silence hung in the air when she’d finished talking. It lingered for at least five seconds, until finally it was shattered by Leonardo bursting out in laughter.
“Adeline, Nicolo’s fiancé, she put you up to this, didn’t she? You are one of her American friends.” He was smiling from ear to ear and the corners of his eyes crinkled, showing his age like a fine wine that just gets better and better.
Stella looked behind her where Bianca had disappeared, wondering if someone new had entered the room to make Leonardo think that she was trying to fool him, but the doorway was empty. She looked back at Leonardo. “Who’s Adeline?”
Leonardo’s laughter stopped, and Stella gave him a forced smile, suddenly wary of the adversary in front of her. Judging by the look on his face, this was going to be her toughest project yet.
3
Leonardo
Leonardo rubbed his tired eyes as he rested his elbows on the desk at his office. It had been two days since his surprise meeting from Stella Brown, and he’d barely managed to get four hours of sleep during that time. Last night had been another long night of international phone calls with half a dozen lawyers. The first question—had they broken any preservation laws—had been an
swered after hours of his lawyers arguing with three different preservation specialists, and the answer was a resounding “Yes!” so loud that it could have reverberated off the walls.
“Dammit!” he swore under his breath. He had to figure out a way through the mire he’d found himself and his brothers in. If a workaround couldn’t be identified and exploited, they would be out several million euros. Not only would they be out of pocket for the renovation costs to date, but they would have no way to recoup the loss or even sell the property. No one would be willing to buy it.
Furthermore, the iconic property which had once been a favorite vacationing spot known the world over would never again open her doors to tourists as a resort, not under Stella’s vision. There was absolutely no way that he would move forward with a plan that involved opening only small portions of the monastery for use as a resort. It was all or nothing. The expense of the remodeling was too cost prohibitive otherwise. No matter how he looked at it, the preservation society had them trapped in a lose-lose situation, and he had to figure a way out.
Leonardo opened his eyes and reached for the rolled papers that sat at the edge of his desk. Opening them up and smoothing them out, he stared at them with a practiced eye. They were Stella’s plans for the Romano del Mare’s final restoration, and to his great annoyance… they were good. Very good. But, they would be costly to implement on multiple levels. He had already signed with Gallant Industries to handle the final design work of readying the Romano del Mare to receive customers, and he was obligated to honor that contract. Their design plans that had been months in the making would have to be scrapped altogether, but Leonardo was already legally required to follow through with them. The contract had been agreed upon and he might as well have signed it in blood, but honoring the contract would mean breaking thirty-three different preservation laws. They were laws that had not even existed when his great grandfather had begun the process of converting the old monastery into a resort with the aid of his son, Leonardo’s grandfather. The preservation laws that Leonardo and his brothers were being strangled with had come into existence in the years since, and if the Romano del Mare had never shut its doors as an operational resort it would not have been held subject to those laws now. They would have been exempt and able to continue operating and maintaining the property as they’d seen fit. But, as soon as the resort had closed its doors, the old monastery’s classification had reverted to heritage property and had fallen under the purview of the International Preservation Society, an organization that before two days ago, Leonardo had not even known existed.
No steps had been taken to halt the construction that was nearing its completion, and Leonardo noticed when the pounding of hammers and the whir of drills silenced in the halls outside his office. Voices drifted by his door as a dozen or more workmen trundled past on their way to lunch.
Leonardo’s stomach growled. He’d been sitting in his office all morning getting nothing done. For the first time in his life, he had no clue as to what action to take next. The uncertainty that filled him was not a feeling he was accustomed to, and he didn’t like it. But there was one thing he could do. He could maintain. He could take care of the basics that needed taking care of.
His stomach growled again. All he’d had for breakfast was a cappuccino, and that had been over four hours ago.
Standing up, he headed for his office door with a long, calm stride that did nothing to betray the anxiety that buzzed through his body like an electric current. Most of the renovation crew brought their own lunches, and for those who didn’t, a catering truck from a local restaurant came around to offer them hearty, aromatic soups plus grilled sandwiches. Most days that’s what Leonardo himself ate, but today he needed distance. He had to put the Romano del Mare out of his sight in order to regain some perspective, and there was a new restaurant in town that he’d been hearing good things about.
He opened his office door and took in a breath, ready to call out to his assistant to see if she’d like to join him, but the words stalled in his throat. Blinking, he stared at empty space at the end of the hallway where he was sure that he’d seen Stella standing a second before.
“Stella?” He waited for an answer but none came. “Stella!” he said again, this time using the same authoritative tone as would be used by a proctor in an unruly classroom. The Romano del Mare was private property, and she had no business being there without invitation. She most certainly was not on any guest list.
Leonardo’s tone worked, and Stella’s head stuck back around the corner. “Hi.” She smiled brightly, and Leonardo was reminded of the moment when he’d first seen her up near the cliffs. Everything about her made him want to shove her aside and pretend that she didn’t exist. She embodied in the flesh all of the new problems that had been dumped in his lap, yet he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her.
“Have lunch with me.” His invitation surprised even himself, and it was clear that it surprised Stella as well because she stepped out from her hiding spot around the corner and came into full view. The sight of her hurt Leonardo’s heart. She was graceful, ephemeral, and… happy. It was as if she glowed with an internal joy that left him mesmerized from looking at her.
Wearing a smile that lit her face, Stella said in her distinctly American accent, “I’d love to!”
Leonardo had to force himself not to laugh. She’d gone from shy and hiding to excited in under a second, and her enthusiasm was contagious. That he found her beautiful was undeniable, but he liked her, too. She was completely guileless in a calculated world, and he found that adorable and refreshing.
“I have the perfect place in mind.”
The drive to the restaurant was quiet, but it was a surprisingly comfortable quiet. He kept Stella in his field of vision as he drove his antique Aston Martin DB5 through the countryside to the nearby town. On instinct he’d put the canopy top of the convertible down, and he watched out of the corner of his eye as Stella drank in her surroundings. There was something unfiltered about her, a willingness to experience everything with a sense of wonder, and he felt drawn to her because of it.
“Here we are,” he said, pulling up outside a narrow, two-story restaurant named Isola di Amici.
“Oh!” Stella exclaimed with both hands on the top rim of her door as she stared at the unremarkable grey stone building. But her reaction made Leonardo look again through fresh eyes and what he saw surprised him. The building was old, possibly two hundred years old, yet it housed a modern, thriving restaurant.
Walking around to the passenger side door, Leonardo opened it and offered her his hand to assist her in getting out. Startled by her chill touch, he asked, “Are you cold?” But when embarrassment pinked her cheeks in response to his answer, he regretted having asked. It was the first moment since he’d met her that he’d seen her wilt from him and his attentions. Always before she’d been unabashedly who she was without any seeming need to fit in.
Needing to feel her connection to him, Leonardo smoothly offered her his elbow and was pleased beyond the measure of the simple act when she slid her hand over his jacketed arm. Together, they crossed the street and entered the restaurant. Inside, the design allowed for a casual intimacy as the conversations of the patrons were captured by the surrounding plants and stone buttresses. Natural light filled the space with a soft glow that lifted Leonardo’s spirits rather than muted his sorrows.
Almost immediately, the pair were seated at a table that both allowed for privacy and a sweeping view of the rest of the restaurant.
“This place is amazing,” Stella marveled.
Leonardo looked around, wanting to see what it was that she was seeing, though he was certain that he wasn’t. “How do you mean?”
Surprise registered on Stella’s face as her eyes went round and her brows went up. “It’s been renovated, but look.” She pointed a finger at a nearby pillar and followed it up to the exposed beam ceiling. “They’ve left most of the original architecture in place.”
Leonardo scanned the room, seeing it with fresh eyes. The restaurant emphasized live plants, modern, colorfully vivid paintings, and elegant furniture, tables and chairs, but behind that was a building that could have fit in seamlessly with the architecture of the building’s time of origin.
Leonardo looked around at the patrons next, their relaxed faces and easy smiles. They were comfortable here, and they were not in a rush to go on with their day. They were willing to stay, their wallets no further away than an arm’s reach. They were willing to spend their money here. This restaurant was doing well.
The waitress came and went, choosing to memorize their orders rather than write them down. Drinks and hors d’oeuvres were brought next and then a comfortable time after that, their main dishes. Stella ordered a light fruit salad plus grilled fish with an artichoke caponata. She leaned over her plate, closed her eyes and breathed its aroma deep into her lungs, and Leonardo simply watched, once more mesmerized by the peaceful joy that filled her.
Opening her eyes, she twirled the long ends of her flowing scarf around each other. That’s when Leonardo saw it, just a flash, just enough that he realized it was there. A scar traced its way down her chest to disappear behind the V of her blouse. A soft, barely-there green vine curled its way around the scar and blossomed with pale pink, cherry blossom-like flowers.
Something about his expression must have changed, he realized, because Stella’s expression changed. Her inner light didn’t exactly dim, it’s more that it changed from radiant sunlight to the light of a brilliant moon. There was still joy there, but it was a self-aware joy. A conscious joy.
“What happened?” The words tumbled out of his mouth before his measure of what it meant to be a gentleman kicked into place. “I’m sorry,” he quickly amended. “It is none of my business.”
Her eyes didn’t drift from his face as so many people’s would have done. Her fingertips delicately traced the long, pale scar. “Heart surgery.” She said it with a smile, and the smile did reach her eyes but only just. “I needed a new one.”
