I gotta admit, I dig this gentleman business. I’m unaccustomed to this behavior after spending years with the loser. That punk expected me to open the doors.
“Well, this is it, Ava.” Enzo gestures around the hotel and motions for me to walk with him.
The impressive size of the lobby branches off in different directions. The walls are white stucco, and the floors appear to be travertine. The decor is sparse and modern. Abstract prints of sunflowers hang on the walls, and fresh flowers dot the room strategically. The coolness of the room surrounds me, seemingly a thousand miles away from the hot Phoenix sun. It’s cool, classy, and very upscale.
“Mr. Milano, so good to see you again.” A tall, cuddly looking man standing behind the front desk greets him. He’s wearing an expensive looking suit and appears to be in his mid-fifties, with wire-rimmed glasses and honey brown hair.
“Welcome back to Girasole.”
Enzo shakes the man’s hand. “Thank you, George. I need an additional room this evening, for a few nights at least.” He nods in my direction. I could not feel more out of place in yoga pants and a “Cupcake Junkie” t-shirt. Enzo looks in my direction and whispers something to George.
George walks towards me. “Please, Miss Bradshaw, come this way.”
I walk past Enzo, who smiles and waves as I leave. George leads me through a tree lined, shaded courtyard and stops at room 115.
“We hope this room is to your liking, ma’am. It’s near the pool and everything you need should be inside. Please buzz the front desk if there is anything we can do for you.” He turns to leave.
“George?”
“Yes, Miss Bradshaw?”
“Um, is Enzo famous or something?”
Nice, Ava, real nice.
“You don’t know? Well, he owns this hotel.”
He owns it? “I’m new to town.”
“I see. Well, Mr. Milano is very well-known in these parts.”
George is not terribly forthcoming, and I don’t know if he’ll report back to Enzo, so I decide I will have to do my own cyber stalking.
“Do you have computers with internet access here, George?”
“We have laptops in each room with complimentary Wi-Fi.” He smiles and leaves.
No wonder it’s not a big deal for him to be so generous. He owns the joint. I have to admit, it’s the nicest place I’ve ever been.
Inside the room, I am even more astonished. Soft shades of pink and cream cover the walls and bedding. A massive wood bed dominates the room. Stroking the sheets, I marvel at the intense softness.
In the corner, there’s a small dining table and a bar area with a sink, mini fridge and icemaker. On the wall opposite the bed, a mounted flat-screen television sits above the dresser. A full-length mirror stands in the corner next to the large closet. Huge French doors open out to a substantial patio overlooking the nearby pool and courtyard. Camelback Mountain looms majestically in the distance. I could live here.
I can’t believe what a crazy day it’s been so far. Meeting Enzo has certainly turned my plans upside down. I didn’t imagine I would be spending my first night in Phoenix in a posh hotel like this. I hope I’ll have an opportunity to thank him.
I flip on the TV and try to find something to watch. Ooh, Food Network. Maybe I can catch that show about cupcakes.
The shrill sound of the telephone in my room startles me.
“Hello?”
“Miss Bradshaw, your luggage is here.” A front-desk attendant informs me.
“Wonderful. I’ll come and get it.”
“That won’t be necessary. Someone will bring it to you in a moment, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” Amen! I can finally take a shower and change into fresh clothes. I jump up to answer the small knock at my door and swing the door open.
“Hello, Miss Bradshaw.” Cool blue eyes gaze back at me.
“Oh, Enzo, hi.” Dammit. Why is he here? I really wanted to freshen up before I saw him again.
Leaning on the doorframe, he gestures behind me. “Your things. You didn’t mention you had so much.”
I move to the side as he begins bringing in the three huge suitcases.
“I believe I did mention I was moving here.” I can’t help but be a little sarcastic. “And please call me Ava.”
“Okay, Ava,” he emphasizes, “you did indeed mention it.” A seductive smile spreads across his perfect features.
“I do hope you have your swimsuit.”
“Why?”
“So you can enjoy the pool, of course.”
Right. The pool. Why am I so jumpy?
“Yes I do and I’m sure I will.” I smile. “This is a very nice room, thank you.”
“My pleasure, Ava.”
Oh, I’d like to be your pleasure. I’m all hot and bothered, and it’s not just the weather.
“Since I’ve caused all of this inconvenience for you today, the least I could do is provide you with a proper dinner.” His gaze intensifies and the smile disappears from his lips, replaced by a look that makes my belly do a somersault. I realize again that it is not a question.
“Of course, thank you.”
“Good. Now get some rest and I’ll come by at six o’clock.”
I nod in agreement.
“Oh, and Ava?”
“Yes?”
“Drink plenty of water. It gets very hot here.” And with that, he’s gone. Man, he’s bossy.
I flop on the bed reviewing the day in my mind. Why do I get so flustered in his presence? Sure, he’s hot but it’s more than that.
Why is he so interested in helping me? And why am I letting him? I’m drawn to him, and I know it’s more than the obvious insane good looks and apparent cash flow.
I really don’t know what he could see in me. Not that I’m ugly, I’m just sort of... I don’t know, unsophisticated. Simple. He seems to be the opposite of that. And if he’s just looking for a hookup, he’s sadly mistaken. Messing around with Enzo does not fit into the cardinal rule of the next year–no rebound sex. I can’t say the idea isn’t appealing though.
I go in the luxurious bathroom and look hard at my reflection. I look awful.
My long, normally wavy hair hangs limply around my face, thanks to the rain drenching I got back in Denver. I need to get it colored and trimmed. My face looks tired and drawn. If he thinks I’m cute right now he must have very low standards.
Time to do a little research on this man. I boot up the laptop sitting on the desk. Staring at the screen I type, Enzo Milano. Thousands of hits fill the page, image after image of him at events, openings, and galas. I click the first article.
“Eligible bachelor, 32-year-old Enzo Milano, attends the Cannes Film Festival with an unknown woman.” Standing next to him is a pretty, petite blond. The article continues. “Mr. Milano is in France opening his latest hotel and resort, adding to his impressive worldwide empire.” Worldwide empire, huh?
I click on another article. “Mr. Milano, seen here with an unknown woman, attends the Modern Design Expo in New York.” Enzo stands with another pretty woman, this one brunette.
I click another article. “Prominent architect, Enzo Milano, attends the opening of the latest resort on the Las Vegas Strip.” He’s standing with a striking redhead.
I learned three things. He travels a lot, he’s an architect, and he likes pretty women. Not much to go on. Still, he must be somebody to have so many articles about him. I close the computer and decide on a nap. I sink into the lush bedding and drift off to sleep.
It’s four o’clock, two hours until Mr. Hotty shows up. I run hot water in the large soaking tub and pour in some lavender bath oil the hotel provided. A relaxing bath sounds like a nice way to prepare for my evening.
I hope casual clothes are suitable for wherever we’re going. I dig through my luggage and pull out my favorite sundress. Thank goodness, it’s not wrinkled. It’s purple with a v-shaped neckline and spaghetti straps. I love the large peony looking flower that sits
on my hip. The dress clings at my waist but has a loose flowing skirt that falls right above my knees. It shows just enough cleavage without being scandalous. The dress highlights my positive attributes and hides the flaws. I think it will work.
I slip into the hot, scented water. It feels amazing after such a long day. I’m aware of every nerve in my body as I glide soap over my limbs. Thinking about Enzo has me really worked up. I just need to pull myself together and stop acting like I’ve never been around a man before. Still, my body tingles when I think of what lies ahead this evening.
I finally climb out of the bath and towel off. I dry my hair and decide I’m going to need a different game plan. It’s too hot to stand under a hair dryer with my mane of hair. I smooth it down with my flat iron. It looks passable. I put on eye cream and add some blush, mascara, and a little purple eyeliner.
I feel good about the way I look right now. Ending my relationship with Steve was tough and one too many cupcake-filled crying jags caused my clothes to feel snug. Once I knew it was over though, I lost the extra weight quickly. Amazing what getting your dignity back can do for a girl’s figure.
I look at myself one last time in the mirror and realize I’m starving. I have ten minutes before he’s supposed to pick me up.
Filled with curiosity about my dinner companion, I open the computer to peek at the remaining search results one more time.
“Enzo Milano, 32, is included for the fifth year on Phoenix’s most eligible bachelor list.” Okay I get it, he’s eligible. There’s a quote from Enzo about the list.
“While I’m very flattered, I hardly consider myself eligible. My work and travel schedule keeps me very busy and unfortunately limits my availability for relationships.”
Hmm. The non-commitment type. A picture of Enzo accompanies the article. He is so incredibly attractive. And I’m having dinner with him tonight. I think it’s pretty clear now what his intentions are, and it’s not a long-term relationship.
At least I know what I’m dealing with.
I hear the knock at the door and shut the computer. Taking a deep breath, I open the door and take a slight step back, astounded by Enzo’s dazzling face. He’s wearing tan linen pants, with a white button-down shirt, and flip flops, looking casual and sexy. A huge change from his earlier wardrobe.
He flashes his brilliant smile. “Ready, Miss Bradshaw?”
“Yes, Enzo, I’m ready.” I hope so anyway.
“Good. We’re going to a restaurant on the grounds. I do hope you like Italian.”
Oh yes, Mr. Hotty, I like Italian.
“I do.” I keep my dirty thoughts to myself. I try not to look at him, not wanting his sultry good looks to distract me.
“Ava, that’s an Italian name, no?”
“Yes. It was my grandmother’s name, on my mom’s side. She was from Italy.”
“Oh?” He turns towards me. “What part?”
“Calabria. In the South.”
He stops walking. Crap, what did I say? He swings towards me and grabs my shoulders.
“My family is from Calabria.” He grins like a five-year-old on Christmas day. I look away from his intense stare.
He releases me. “Excuse me, Ava. I get excited when I think of Italy.”
“No problem.”
Wipe the stupid grin off your face, Ava.
“Come on, dinner.” We continue walking and reach the restaurant’s open-air patio. I look up and see its name, Milano. Hmm, no ego there.
“Come, Ava.” He ushers me through the door. At the front, a perky young brunette in a black dress greets us.
“Enzo!” She squeals and throws her arms around his neck.
She’s very friendly with him. Wonder if she’s been through this game with him.
Jealous already?
“Ciao, Silvia.” He kisses her on both cheeks then pulls my arm towards him to introduce me.
“This is Ava. Ava, Sylvia.”
She smiles at me and grins. “Welcome to Milano, Ava.” Did she just wink at me?
I return her smile. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Sylvia is my darling niece. My first. She’s starting her last year of college in August. I’m so proud of her.” He softly pinches her cheek.
Oh, niece. Got it.
Sylvia brushes his hand away. “Zio, you’re embarrassing me.” She giggles, obviously fond of her uncle.
“Your table?” She asks.
He doesn’t reply and simply nods. Sylvia walks us towards a corner overlooking the massive courtyard. A waterfall gushes in the background, its tropical design could make one easily forget we are in the middle of a desert.
Enzo holds out my chair for me. “Was the room to your liking, Miss Bradshaw?”
Why does he insist on calling me Miss Bradshaw? I find it very annoying. It seems like some sort of power play to me, and I don’t like it.
“As I stated previously, I found it to be very nice, Mr. Milano.”
He leans close to me. “I like the way my name sounds in your mouth.”
Is he flirting with me? As attractive as he is, I really don’t want him to think he can simply have his way with me in repayment. I should make it clear that’s not how this is going to play out.
I watch how his body moves as he sits. He’s so hot though and I’m so lonely. Maybe just once, I could— No! I must stick to my plan.
“I’d like to reimburse you for the room, Enzo.”
“Would you now? Well, it’s $395 a night plus tax.”
Seriously? Four hundred bucks a night. I’m sure I went pale.
He laughs. “Listen, Ava, I do not expect, nor would I accept repayment. I’m extending you this hospitality simply because I want to.” He leans across the table, close to my face. “I expect nothing in return. Relax and enjoy dinner.”
I could think of a hundred adjectives for this man but dull isn’t one of them.
A man wearing a chef’s jacket approaches our table. Enzo stands and hugs the man, briefly kissing him on both cheeks. Ah, so very Italian.
“Ciao, fratello. Come stai?” Enzo speaks in Italian. A little thrill courses through me. That is sexy.
“Tutto bene, sto bene. Tu?”
I’m grinning like an idiot, staring at them as they speak.
“Bene, bene. Ava, this is the chef and my brother, Paulo. Paulo, my new friend Ava.”
Paolo extends his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Ava.” He says, in even thicker accented English. Studying him, I see a resemblance but notice he is shorter and heavier set than Enzo. But he has the same sterling blue eyes and thick black hair. They continue their conversation in Italian for a moment. From what I can tell, they are discussing the menu. I watch Enzo’s hands move through the air as he speaks, his demeanor considerably softer and familiar with his brother.
“Va bene. Vino, er, wine, Ava?” Enzo asks, switching back to English. I start to speak when Enzo waves his hands and turns back to his brother.
“Chianti, per favore.”
His brother nods and leaves us.
“I don’t know if I should have any more wine after this morning.” I frown.
“A little wine will be okay. You’ve adjusted to the heat now. Just sip it.” He grins.
I nod. A silent moment passes.
“I like hearing you speak Italian.” I blurt out.
That was smooth.
He looks at me, and I feel all squishy inside, like I’ve never been on a date before.
Who said you were on a date now?
“So you like the Italian language?”
“Well, I like what I just heard. It’s beautiful. Sexy even.”
Cut it out.
“Yes, Ava, it is beautiful.”
So are you. He could talk about dog shit and I would think it was hot.
What am I doing here? How can I keep a man like this interested? What do we have in common? He’s rich, devastatingly handsome, mature, established. I’m a girl stuck in mid-flight. What would he possibly want wit
h me?
“What are you thinking, Ava?”
I shake my head and… oh no! My parents! I forgot to call. I dig my cell phone out of my handbag, panicked. Eight missed calls, four voicemails. Shit! I never turned it back on after the flight.
“I forgot to call my parents. Give me a minute okay?” I step away from the table into the courtyard.
“Dammit Ava, we’ve been worried sick! We called the airport and the apartment office. They said you came and got your key, but that was it. Where were you?” My dad is so mad, and I don’t blame him.
“Daddy, I’m sorry. I forgot to turn my phone on after the flight.” Something tells me I shouldn’t fill in the rest of the day.
“How could you forget?”
“I just got caught up, dad, sorry. I’m fine really.”
Softening, he says, “Okay, Ava, just don’t do that again. As it is your mom’s a mess.”
“I know. Can I say hi?”
“Ava?”
“Hi mom. I’m sorry I made you worry.” My mom has been high-strung and prone to crying jags since I announced I was moving.
“Are you okay?” She asks.
“Yes, just grabbing a bite to eat.” I look at Enzo, who sits comfortably waiting for me. He’s so handsome, he looks like he is part of the scenery.
“Tell dad I love him. Love you too.” I hang up and walk back to the table. Enzo’s eyes are on me the entire time.
“Everything alright?” He asks.
“Yes. My parents worry. I’m an only child, and I’ve never moved away before.”
He nods. “Have some wine. Dinner will be here soon. Then I’ll get you back to your room.” He pauses. “To sleep.”
He knows he’s messing with me doesn’t he? I sit back in my chair and try to relax. I take a sip of wine. It’s smooth and rich, just like my dining companion.
“So, Ava. Did you move here for a specific reason?”
I look up and feel flustered when my eyes meet his. “I always have a reason for the things I do.”
He smiles. “Yes, I would imagine you do. Are you going to tell me the reason or do I have to coax it out of you?”
Beautifully Twisted Page 29
