What would his mother think of Ella? Massimo’s instinct told him she would approve. There was no pretentiousness about Ella, unlike some of the daughters of his mother’s friends. And he wasn’t so naive as to believe that his mother had wanted to have this party for her sixty-fifth birthday for her benefit alone. No, his mamma was furba, a sly one, wanting to nudge him in the direction of eligible women.
He shook his head. He would indulge his mother with a birthday to remember, but as much as she wanted him to see him settled, it would happen on his own terms, and when he was ready.
Massimo slowed down and then jogged on the spot while reaching for his water bottle. The sun, looking like a shiny persimmon against a sky tinged with splashes of apricot and pink, was reflected in the sea. He stopped and took it all in, never tiring of the views. It had been a balm from the very beginning, when he was still reeling from the blow of his wife’s passing, a reminder that beauty existed alongside the dark moments in life.
He recalled another such moment during his first night in the finished guesthouse. He had been walking around the exterior of the property, pleased with the landscaping, but he had suddenly experienced a stab of loneliness, knowing that it was for his eyes only. His gaze had riveted on the wildflower accent garden and a Corsican swallowtail butterfly that had fluttered into view and settled onto a plant. It had stunning yellow-and-black markings on wings that were intermittently opening and closing, and small blue spots edged the hind wings, along with two red spots. Massimo had watched, transfixed, struck by the ability to experience sadness and pleasure simultaneously.
And then it had fluttered away, making him think of how Rita had been in his life for a short period and was gone...
Every time he had seen a swallowtail butterfly after that, Massimo had felt, foolish or not, as if it were a sign Rita was at peace, and he had been comforted.
Massimo jogged back to his villa and had a refreshing shower. It was still early, but he could tell that it was going to be a scorcher of a day. The timed sprinkler system had begun to water the gardens, and as he prepared his espresso, he contemplated going for a swim in his pool once the interview with Ella was over.
After finishing his espresso, Massimo worked in his study, reviewing the weekly reports that his resort managers sent him. Afterward, he checked the progress of his latest resort, still in the construction stage and as yet unnamed. It was located in the Maddalena Archipelago, with an enchanting pink beach and mesmerizing views of translucent waters ranging from cerulean to turquoise. Perhaps he’d fly out there after his mother’s birthday and the opening of the DiLuca Cardiac Research Center. Maybe it was time to start coming out of his self-imposed seclusion and go back to surveying the progress of his resorts in person.
Maybe he should loosen up in other ways, too.
He reached for his cell phone. There was no reason why he couldn’t invite Ella to join him for a swim after the interview session. It wasn’t as if he were breaching—or intended to breach—any professional protocols. He had a huge pool meant to be used, and perhaps Ella would appreciate the offer. Why shouldn’t he demonstrate his hospitality in this way?
He sent a text before he could change his mind.
Her response came a minute later.
Sure.
And then another one a few seconds after that.
As long as I’m not in deep water, lol.
Massimo stared at the screen. A coil of electricity surged through his veins at the fact that Ella was comfortable enough to tease him...
If anyone was in deep water, it was him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
AFTER FINISHING HER cappuccino and hazelnut biscotti, Ella went up to the bedroom loft and slipped on a canary yellow swimsuit with white polka dots and straps that tied around her neck, retro-style. She chose a white short-sleeved shirt and a navy wrap-around skirt to wear over the top of the suit for the interview.
As she dressed, she was aware of a fluttering in her stomach. Inviting her for dinner was one thing. It was just being hospitable. But she had never expected the baron to invite her to spend any personal time with him. And swimming in his pool was definitely personal. But obviously it was something he did with people staying in his guesthouse.
And then she remembered that she was the first person to stay in his guesthouse.
She thought about what she had impulsively texted back to him. She had instantly regretted taking such a familiar tone with him, but a few moments later, he had responded with a laugh emoji, and she had sighed in relief.
And she also had to ignore the sensation she had felt last night when he had gently wiped her tears and when, seconds later, she couldn’t look away from the startling intensity in his eyes.
She had gone to bed with a hundred contradictory thoughts in her head. Thoughts that told her she was living in a world of fantasy, thinking Baron Massimo DiLuca was actually attracted to her. That the Sardinian wine she had enjoyed with her dinner was causing her head to swirl with these ridiculous notions...like the one of him wanting to kiss her...
Shaking her head dismissively, Ella grabbed her bag with her recorder, notepad and personal items, and after slipping into a pair of flip-flops, headed to Villa Serena.
She breathed in the sultry morning air, heavy with humidity. By the time she reached Massimo’s villa, she felt a sheen on her face and forehead, and she quickly pulled a tissue from her bag. A swim would be a welcome relief after the interview.
Instead of sitting in his office, Massimo suggested doing the interview in the living room, where they could be more relaxed. He carried in two tall glasses of lemonade and motioned for Ella to sit on an armchair by one accent table, and he moved to one edge of the sectional nearest her.
“Tell me about your father,” she said, after turning on the recorder.
Massimo stared at Ella for a few seconds.
“You had mentioned your father was your nonno Teodoro’s only child and heir and that he had a sharp business sense that eventually led him to make some good investments,” she prompted, looking up from her notes. “And earlier, you had said Villa Paradiso was your family’s first resort...”
He nodded. “Papà bought it when it was a small, run-down hotel called the Albergo al Mare, the Hotel by the Sea. He saw the potential in the vast property it came with. He had the building torn down, and he worked on new designs with an architect friend, then called in any and all of his friends in the construction business to help in his venture. Papà was savvy, even in the pre-computer era, and wasn’t afraid to take risks.”
Massimo shifted his gaze to the sea, where whitecaps were popping up and down in the distance. His voice had softened, and Ella could hear in his tone the admiration and respect he had for his father. “Papà accessed all the advertising avenues he could find, and it wasn’t long before tourists were flooding to Villa Paradiso,” he continued, gazing back at Ella. “Of course it has been renovated over the years to reflect the times and the particular tastes of our clients.”
“Luxurious tastes,” Ella murmured. “And tell me more about how your father ‘taught you everything you know.’”
Massimo talked about his father’s work ethic and his devotion to his family. “He worked hard, but he always made sure to kick a soccer ball around with me when he came home...”
He swallowed, and Ella felt a twinge in her heart.
“And he often took me on site to show me the construction progress. I was always struck by the way he treated everyone who worked on the project, from the architect to the cleaning staff. He was a good man,” he said, his lips pursing as he looked away.
Ella stopped herself from saying “and so are you...” She decided to divert her line of questioning to the matriarch of the family. “Has your mother influenced you in any way?”
Massimo looked at her and laughed. “Mamma influences everybody she is with. You
will experience the phenomenon that is my mother tonight.”
Ella listened to Massimo explaining what a doting mother she had been throughout his childhood and adolescence, and what a dynamic business partner she had been with his father. And still was with him. He suddenly stopped when his phone buzzed. “Speak of the devil.” He laughed, winking at Ella.
Ella turned off the recorder. She was glad he was distracted and couldn’t see her cheeks. She had several sips of her lemonade and couldn’t help listening to Massimo’s side of the conversation. She liked the way he sounded when he spoke Italian...in his deep voice, with its husky notes. She closed her eyes and just listened to the melody of it and not the words themselves. Suddenly it changed, and she realized he had transitioned to Sardinian. And then back to Italian before saying arrivederci.
Massimo’s obviously tight relationship with his mother made Ella’s loss of her own feel even greater. Her chest felt weighted down with sudden grief. What the baron and baronessa shared was the closeness that she had had with her adoptive mother. God, she missed her...
Ella squeezed her eyes tightly. She had to get control of herself before—
“Stai bene, Ella?” Massimo said.
Her eyes flew open. He was leaning forward and staring directly at her.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she blurted. How long had he watched her like that? She peered at her notes and continued with her questions about the early years and how the DiLuca resorts had become renowned as elite holiday destinations. And how they had chosen the particular locations for their resorts.
When the two-hour segment was done, Massimo rose from the sectional and said, “Snack or swim?”
“I’d rather have a swim first, thanks.” Ella put away her recorder and notepad and looked at him. “Where shall I—?”
“There’s an outdoor change area,” he said. You’ll see it as soon as you step out into the lounge. I’ll be there shortly. I’ll change upstairs.”
Moments later Ella walked into the spacious room that included several changing cubicles and an open, turquoise-tiled section in one corner for pre-swim showers. She removed her blouse and skirt and hung them on the hooks inside her cubicle. After fixing her hair in a ponytail and showering quickly, she proceeded to the infinity pool.
The water temperature was perfect. Ella walked down the pool steps and waded farther in. She immersed herself up to her neck, and when she bobbed up again, she caught a glimpse of Massimo entering the change room. Her heartbeat quickened. She began to swim toward the infinity edge, her adrenalin surging at the thought that any minute, the billionaire baron would be in the pool with her.
It just seemed so unreal.
She was treading water just as Massimo emerged from the shower. Ella was relieved he was wearing swim shorts and not the briefs that many Italian men seemed to prefer when at the beach. It was hard enough not staring at his muscular torso and legs as he walked, without having to focus on anything more...more defined.
From the opposite end of the pool, Massimo waved and dove in. He emerged halfway across the pool, shook his head and then began to swim toward her. Ella’s heart pounded. It was one thing to be sitting across from Massimo DiLuca during an interview; it was quite another to watch him do a powerful breaststroke toward her.
“Bello, no?” he said, now treading water only a few feet away.
Ella knew that he was referring to either the pool or the view or to the act of swimming in such a gorgeous location, and she quickly replied, “Bellissimo.”
“You’re welcome to use the pool anytime while you are here,” he said. And then he grinned. “Facciamo una gara, Marinella?”
“Uh, assolutamente...no!” She laughed. “I’m not prepared to race someone who gets to practice in a place like this for much of the year.”
“Dai, come on, it’s just for fun.”
Ella couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Massimo DiLuca, the reclusive baron, trying to convince her to have a friendly race.
“Va bene,” she capitulated. “But you’re taller than me, which will give you the advantage.”
He chuckled. “You can start a few seconds before me.”
She nodded. “Game on!”
* * *
Massimo was surprised at himself for suggesting a race and even more surprised Ella had agreed. It had been a long time since he had felt the desire to be playful, and now that he had blurted the proposition to Ella, he couldn’t very well change his mind.
“Freestyle?” he said.
“Freestyle.” She nodded.
He got out of the pool and walked to the deep end. Ella followed and as she proceeded to join him, Massimo felt his pulse quicken. Ella looked so picture perfect in that yellow swimsuit. It had a simple style, like something out of a 1950s film, and its mix of innocence and charm really suited her. And what he liked about the way Ella moved was that she wasn’t walking as if she were on a catwalk displaying the latest fashions. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone.
Yes, he liked that. He liked real.
When they were both standing outside the edge of the pool, Massimo nodded. “Sei pronta?”
“Yes, I’m ready,” she said, shifting from one foot to another.
“Allora... You can start!”
Massimo watched Ella dive in, waited five seconds, then dove in, also. He caught up easily to Ella and they swam side by side for several yards. Their hands brushed into each other, and as Massimo lifted and turned his head, he saw a fleeting glimpse of her focused expression.
It made him smile...and splutter as the pool water immediately found its way into his mouth and down his windpipe. It broke his stride, and he began to tread water as he coughed and cleared his throat.
He looked ahead and saw Ella raise her arm up triumphantly as she reached the other side. When she turned to see where he was at, she put her hand up to her mouth, her eyes crinkling. He smirked and gave a shrug before resuming the front crawl toward her.
“I didn’t realize you were so competitive,” he said, his mouth twitching as he reached the edge of the pool.
“I didn’t know you liked to drink pool water,” she retorted, laughing.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Swim or snack?”
“Snack. My win has made me ravenous.”
Massimo stroked his beard. “I think the winner should treat the second-place winner.”
“To...?”
“Whatever you think is a treat,” he said with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
“Hmm. I’m not in the habit of treating men, and I’m not sure if what I consider a treat for myself would be appreciated by a man.”
“And what exactly would you consider a treat for you—or women in general?”
“A bubble bath. A visit to a bookstore. A night out at a fancy restaurant. Curling up in my pajamas to watch a classic film with a bowl of popcorn. Or ice cream. A nice mass—” Ella stopped abruptly and just blinked at him.
Massimo smiled, almost positive—from the appearance of pink rosettes on her cheeks—that Ella had meant to say a massage.
“Well, except for the bubble bath,” he continued, “I would be happy with any one of those treats. But no pressure. You have a few days yet to choose my treat. Surprise me.”
Massimo went into the villa to shower and get dressed while Ella used the change room. As he lifted his face up to the rain shower, he thought about how comfortable he had felt, talking with Ella. Marinella. Joking around with her. Having fun.
It sent shock waves through him, igniting a shot of adrenalin throughout his veins. He liked being with her.
A lot.
And he had come so close to kissing her last night...
Ella had shown her vulnerability when it came to her identity, and he had been overcome with a feeling of protectiveness, wanting to enclose her within his arms and
hold her tight.
With the water streaming over him, Massimo allowed the truth of the matter to sink in. The matter being feelings that he never thought he’d feel again. Happiness. Desire. Wonder.
She’s leaving in less than a week, an inner voice reminded him. So don’t—
Of course. He knew what the message was going to be.
Don’t get any ideas. Don’t start something that you know can’t go anywhere. Don’t put Ella in an awkward situation.
Massimo felt the momentary high he had known plummet. Like it or not, his inner voice was right. Ella would be gone in a few days. She had a personal mission to accomplish once the week was over, and then she’d be leaving Sardinia to return to Canada.
She did not seem like the kind of person who would be interested in a fling for a few days, and neither was he. Nor had he ever been while married to Rita. Whatever feelings Ella had ignited in him, he had to suppress them. Concentrate on the reason why Ella was here and get through the remainder of the week. And after his mother’s birthday party and opening of the Cardiac Research Center, return to his normal routine.
Although maybe it isn’t so normal...
He stepped out of the shower, toweled himself briskly and changed into jean shorts and a blue T-shirt before heading downstairs to the kitchen, determined to keep his distance from Ella, emotionally and physically...
But he had offered her a snack, so he decided to make a light frittata, since his mother would surely be orchestrating a feast for tonight’s dinner. He prepared the ingredients, and when he was ready to start cooking, he glanced at the doorway, wondering what was taking Ella so long. And then he noticed a slip of paper on the granite counter.
He frowned as he read it.
I’m sorry, Massimo. I can’t believe how distracted I’ve been. I was supposed to book a place today...
I don’t want to bother you with my responsibilities, so I’m heading back to the guesthouse to take care of things. I’ll have a snack there.
Falling for the Sardinian Baron Page 10