Page 31 of Giorgio

Striding over to a comfortable wrap-around sofa in butter soft yellow, he deposited her gently against the cushions. “I will advise Aldo to bring in some refreshments. I will also alert the maid to bring your crutches.” He nodded towards the end table. “The internal phone is right there in case you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

With a curt nod, he turned and left the room, closing the doors behind him.

Leaning back against the cushions, she closed her eyes briefly. She had angered him with her thoughtless comment andquestions. What on earth did it matter to her if he was happy? What business was it of hers?

She was merely a guest here, yes, he had been the one to cause the accident, but he had gone out of his way to make her comfortable and make certain she was well taken care of.

So, he did not work. But he never had to. He had more money than he could ever spend in this lifetime. So, what if he wanted to waste his life partying every single day? It was his choice and his life.

And she hated that he was upset with her. She had wanted to apologize and beg him to forgive. Her memory was not back, but she instinctually realized that she was a person who speaks her mind.

Shaking off the depression that was threatening, she gazed around the room in amazement. He had not exaggerated. The room was large enough to be a public library and had books lining the walls from floor to ceiling. Step ladders were everywhere, giving access to the titles several feet in the air.

A cozy antique table and chair were tucked beneath one of the windows that overlooked a stunning display of colorful flowers and trees waving in the breeze. There was also a gazebo right in the middle of all that wild beauty.

She couldn’t make her way outdoors yet but would love to explore the grounds. Turning her attention back to the lovely room, she eased off the sofa and hobbled over to the shelf titled fiction. Shaking off the unhappiness that cloaked her, she selected a title.

*****

Usually, remarks like that would just go over his head. Not that anyone had ever said anything like that to him before. He couldn’t understand why he was so angry and mortified by her question. He had seen the steady look on her face and felt as if he was a recalcitrant schoolboy being upbraided by the principal.

Striding into the conference room, he acknowledged the board members and took his seat at the other end of the table. It was a requirement for him to be present twice a month and his father insisted on it.

He had no idea what he contributed, but his presence was demanded, and he made sure he was here. Usually, he would while his time away by being on his phone, but today, he listened attentively.

He was the face of the company, a position that was ambiguous to say the least. He was the son of the CEO and heir apparent. He hoped that his father lived a long and fruitful life, so he would not have to take over the reins any time soon. He was certainly not ready.

His education was top notched. He spoke several languages and was well versed in the running of the company. He was the holder of two degrees, that he had never used. The men and women seated around the table respected him only because of who he was and nothing more.

He had never contributed anything and for the first time in his life, he felt worthless and useless. Damn her! Who the hell was she to question what he did with his life? He was Giorgio Russo and free to do whatever he bloody well pleased. But why did it suddenly feel so hollow?

Chapter 7

“Thanks for agreeing to see me.”

“I have a luncheon meeting in fifteen minutes.”

Alfredo watched as his son prowled the area from his desk to the window, hands shoved into the pockets of his tailored slacks. He had noticed his attentiveness during the meeting. At other times, he would be on his phone, indicating his boredom and resentment of being there. This time it was different. He had actually listened.

“Sales are dropping in several of the Venice locations.”

“Yes.”

“And the holidays are coming up. Might I make a suggestion?”

Alfredo hid his surprise quickly. “By all means.”

“A fund raising gala. Something to boost sales. The usual advertising gimmicks are no longer working. Shoppers have seen all of them already, several times over. Something new is needed. Allegro is in charge of the advertising department, and she is talented, but needs an infusion of something electrifying.”

“A gala?”

Giorgio nodded. “Not just an ordinary one, something spectacular. A combination of the risqué and the sobering.

Locate what is most needed in Venice – fighting cancer, an injection of more resources for Alzheimer’s diseases, things like that. Force people into awareness and at the same time get them to open their wallets and spend more money.”

Alfredo leaned forward and propped his arms on the desk, dark eyes sparkling with interest. “That’s a wonderful idea. How did you come up with it?”