by Amy McKinley
“So, no bad dreams here?” There was something about that hotel in Verona. I was simultaneously drawn and repelled to it. His description matched my feelings.
“Not a one. Which brings me to a needed amendment to our contract.”
My spine straightened, and I mirrored his stance, so we were both facing one another. I had a suspicion about where his thought process would lead based on his relaxed attitude. Venice was good for him, Verona, not so much.
“I got a call early this morning that a pipe burst while the construction crew was working. You’ll have to move into another room temporarily. I think it should be my suite as none of the other rooms have been furnished yet. I have a spare bedroom, and we can get a lot more accomplished workwise to get the hell out of the Verona project.”
“Oh okay. I guess.” But for good? There was something bittersweet about the hotel. I couldn’t see not wanting to return now and again. Regardless, I couldn’t fault his reasoning for moving to a room of my own in his suite as it seemed to be strictly work-related. Besides, I didn’t think he felt the same as me. Aside from a few glances here and there, I wasn’t sure if he was as attracted to me as I was to him, although there were moments where his actions confused me.
He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, and I caught myself before swaying forward as his fingers trailed along the curve of my jaw before falling away. Like that! That was not a professional gesture, and the Mariuccis were nowhere in sight. The thought of sharing space with him in the evenings held an appeal I couldn’t refuse. I wasn’t able to fight the pull I felt toward him, nor did I think I wanted to.
“I won’t lose this deal, Adeline. The faster the Venice acquisition goes, the sooner we can move here and get started on a new project. The Verona hotel will wrap up without us needing to be onsite. Soon, we’ll be out of there. For good.”
I jolted back a step. “You don’t want to return there, even to see how the hotel is running?”
“No. That’s why I have managers in place that I trust. Tiffany will eventually be back. I may stop in once in a while, but I will never stay over there again.”
His skin was pulled taut with eyes that seemed haunted. I couldn’t fight my reaction and went with my gut, stepping into his arms and resting my cheek on his chest to offer comfort. In his embrace, I felt safe. Something I didn’t realize was missing from my life after my parents passed away.
He tugged on the ends of my hair. “Come on. Let’s get some lunch.”
As his arms fell away, his fingers threaded with mine, something we did unconsciously more often than not. In a daze, I walked beside Stone, letting him guide me through the bridge’s tight corridor and back to Doge’s Palace rather than to the prison that connected on the other side. I wanted to explore more, but I had a feeling there would be time to do so in the future.
Before I knew it, we were at an outdoor table on the small terrace, the restaurant Margaret had recommended. I waited while he went inside to order for us. The restaurant was busy, and we’d gotten lucky snagging this table as another couple stood to leave.
The dreams that plagued Stone, and my vision when I arrived at the hotel, swirled in my brain. The name the psychic at our sorority bash told me about came to mind, and I did a quick internet search on my phone to see what I could come up with concerning the Verona hotel. There had to be a connection. I felt it deep in my bones.
After several minutes, I found what I was looking for. Only, I’d thought he would still be alive. The medium failed to mention he was not.
Cristiano Santoro, bellhop, and son of Sergio Santoro, who was the doorman for the Hotel Destino, existed in the nineteenth century. There was even a picture of the staff. It was old, dated. The photo’s age was evident even on the internet: sepia and granular. My heart slammed against my rib cage. There was something familiar about Cristiano.
Then I recognized what. It was in his jawline, wolfish grin, broad shoulders, and intensity that consumed the space he occupied that reminded me of Stone.
Chapter 9
Stone
Dusk replaced the brilliant sunlight from earlier. The lingering rays shrunk as they faded, clinging to the wood floor in my office in Verona. I had a headache and wasn’t in the mood to play referee as Leif droned on over our scheduled call about having to collaborate with Brenda to get the quarterly reports done. I was tired of hearing excuses. Not only that, my mind kept wandering to Adeline. The way she lit up a room with her smile, the jolt of electricity that followed a simple brush of her hand, and how well we worked and played together. I wanted more and puzzled over how to make that happen.
She postponed moving her things to my suite as we’d got in to Verona late last night. Tonight, she’d be there and my blood heated at the thought of her so near, my mind wanting to wander to what that would be like.
But for the moment, I had to get through this conversation with Leif, my usually competent employee. As his voice registered once more, the ache at my temples ratcheted up another notch. Would this day never end? At the very least, I needed to put an end to this call and cut off his excuses. “Handle it, Leif.”
Disconnecting, I ran my hands over my face, willing the exhaustion to go away. I hated this hotel. Failure and sadness oozed from its tired walls, and I feared that no amount of interior design refresh would expel the stench of it.
“Adeline.”
The scent of summer and lilies arrived half a second before she did. The pain behind my eyes eased as she drew closer. Maybe I was getting sick. “I’m leaving for the board meeting and need you to handle overseeing new designs for the basement.” Just saying it left a bitter taste in my mouth, but there was no way I could deal with Celia.
Adeline cocked her head, and I wished her hair was down. It would have spilled in a silky fall of silvery blonde over her shoulder and down her arm. The need to touch her brought me to my feet. The chair rolled a few inches as I stood. I rounded the desk, and I took her hand in mine, toying with the engagement ring she’d taken to wearing—even at the office.
As if a thread connected us, she took a half step forward, and the stress of the day diminished. For the first time in years, I wanted to skip the meeting and explore the city with her instead. I had yet to visit Juliet’s Wall, an iconic site in Verona.
There was something about being with Adeline that screamed of destiny, if I believed in that. My gaze fell to her full lips as they shaped unheard words that slowly filtered back into my brain. Yep, I had to be coming down with something. I shook off the spell I seemed to be under in her presence and concentrated on what she was saying.
“What were you thinking of for the basement rooms? From what I’d seen of the plans, we were to mimic the first floor.”
With effort, I kept my face neutral, fighting the need to frown at the feelings of failure and loss at the mention of the lower level. “I changed my mind. I want the space to rival the penthouse suites, so when guests stay there, the amenities and luxury supersede being underground. Play with the idea of tearing down some of the walls to create a luxury apartment-like atmosphere.”
Her brow creased with delicate worry lines, and she pressed the back of her hand to my forehead. “Are you all right?”
My fingers stilled on hers, and I fought the urge to pull her into my arms. We’d gotten accustomed to touching each other last weekend in Venice. She affected me far more than I wanted to admit to myself. “Just a headache. I’ll grab food on my way to the meeting. I’m sure that’s all it is.”
“Okay.” She pursed her lips. “Are there designs for the basement then? Or are you trusting the crew to come up with something?”
Not likely. “No finalized plans and I don’t trust Celia’s take on this project. You’ll need to head it up with either her or one of the other members of the team. Bring me the preliminary ideas once they come up with them, and I’ll look over them.” I stepped away then thought better of it, shifting back to hold her gaze. I’d crossed the line with us at t
he mention of her being my fake fiancée. I wanted more, needed it. “We’ll go over them tonight at dinner.”
What I was about to do would be the next step in solidifying more with her.
Adeline
* * *
Worry shadowed my every move as I drew closer to meeting with Celia. I didn’t like how exhausted Stone looked. The annoyance in his voice when he’d spoken to Leif was something I could help him with. I’d chatted with Leif a few times already and understood what he expected of his staff. It helped that I had a ton of experience working for, and anticipating the needs of, others during high school and college. Brenda was a recent hire and reported to Leif. I’d talked to her a few times on the phone and made a note on my daily tasks for today to coach her a bit on what to expect and the best way to communicate with her boss.
The elevator dinged, and I stepped off and into the reception area. Construction workers moved about carrying in the new flooring to lay tomorrow. We’d salvaged as much as possible, but there were sections that were beyond our craftsman’s ability to bring back to life. And the lobby centerpiece was scheduled to arrive within the hour.
I swung my gaze from where the men worked in search of the design team. Delilah and Betty stood with heads bent together before the reception counter plans spread out before them, and fabric swatches piled haphazardly at their elbows. And then there was Celia, nail file in hand as she chatted on her Bluetooth. That better be a vendor she was talking to. I moved to confront her but bounced off of Steve, our foreman, who steadied me with a hand at my elbow.
“Are you all right, Adeline?” His gravelly voice brought a smile to my face.
“I’m good. Sorry about that. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” The few times we’d spoken had endeared him to me. There was no pushback. He didn’t make me feel inferior or lesser just because I was young and a woman. He was fair and got the work done without complaint or excuses. And I liked how he treated his team. Plus, we both struggled to deal with the shit show that was Celia.
“I meant to call you. We unloaded the artwork ordered for the lobby. There were a few additional boxes. You may want to check in with…” He rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. “Celia.”
“Will do.” I gave him a tight-lipped smile in anticipation of the confrontation that was sure to follow the lower-level discussion. As I walked away, I paused, then turned back. That task could propel the changes that would inevitably happen. “Steve, where are the boxes?”
With a wary eye, he pointed me in the right direction. Avoiding Celia for the moment, I went directly to the cluster of crates. Delilah noticed me right away, and we nodded to one another, but she didn’t approach me. I could guess why by the resigned expression on hers and Betty’s faces. It seems they knew what would go down when I looked at the order.
The crates with the paintings were already opened, and I peeked inside. One of Steve’s workers came over and helped me to lift one of them to get a better look. My breath caught in my throat. Sweeping strokes captured the Italian landscape as the sun crested the horizon, chasing the fog away. This set the tone when guests first arrived beautifully, and to be honest, I was surprised Celia hadn’t screwed the purchase up somehow, adding her love of all things modern instead of the old-world romance the area called for.
It wasn’t until I made my way through the other five boxes that I had to count to ten before speaking to her. They were filled with knickknacks. The color scheme was fine, but they would clutter the space and throw off the scale. Not to mention, they were not the correct time period.
“Celia, may I speak with you a moment?” I motioned for her to follow me into the room off reception. Five minutes went by before she graced me with her gazelle-like presence.
“Those extra items were not authorized for purchase. We’ve discussed that all changes are to go through me for approval.”
Thin ruby-red lips curved into a smirk, and she looked down her artesian straight nose at me. “Stone will appreciate them. They’re in the same family as many of the items chosen for his last hotel renovation.”
I rubbed the bridge of my nose and counted again. So she’d mimicked what was done before. But why? To get out of doing any additional research or work, or because she thought Stone would appreciate her attention to the details of what he’d chosen for another hotel? With a Herculean effort, I kept my voice at an even tone. “This is your last warning, Celia. You have one more chance to correct this, or you’ll be demoted as the lead designer on this project.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Celia leaned down, so we were at eye level. “That’ll never happen. You can’t touch me.”
Ah, the uncle on the board and her family’s association with Stone’s. But this was business, and the company grievances against her were well-documented. “Is that your verbal refusal to return the unauthorized purchases?”
“I don’t answer to you. Not now, not ever. When Stone—”
“You do, Celia. Tiffany and Mr. Crenshaw have repeatedly confirmed that.” Making a mental note to document Celia’s obstinance as soon as I returned to my desk, I went over to Delilah and Betty and tasked them with straightening out the order. One more intentional mistake, and I wouldn’t have to deal with Celia as the lead designer. That thought comforted me as I made my way to the lower level.
I exited the narrow stairwell to a dark and dreary basement. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I glanced over my shoulder, sure I’d see someone lurking behind me. Nobody was there, and I chased away my nerves. Without realizing it, I’d stepped forward, my fingers trailing over the worn and dingy wallpaper as if I’d done this same motion many times before.
The dank, musty smell faded, and in its place, a hint of strong coffee permeated the hallway. As if in a dream, my eyes glazed over, and I took another step, trusting my feet to lead the way as if they had before, while a haze blanketed my mind, warping time. Taking me back—to him.
The silk of my dress swirled around my legs, whispering over the tops of my slippers. As I moved closer to the wall, the long fabric of my mauve skirt kissed the empty hallway. Soft flickering light cast shadows on the worn floor, and I shivered from the risk of getting caught, mixed with the compulsion to seek out Cristiano.
A door opened, and the strong aroma of coffee mingled with cedar in an intoxicating blend. A warm flush crept over my cheeks. All I had to do was lift my gaze, and he’d be there. It didn’t matter where we were. We always sensed one another when the other was near.
The slight weight of the silver chain at my neck, where the pendant of Saint Valentine rested that he’d given me, was cool against my skin. My satin-covered feet faltered, and with agonizing slowness, I sought him out. I wasn’t supposed to be down here. It was scandalous, forbidden. But I couldn’t deny our connection, the love that’d blossomed from our first meeting. We were destined for each other. He was the other half of my soul, and we both swore we would find a way to be together, despite my family and society’s blind prejudice to his station.
“Francesca.”
Smoke and sin. His voice washed over me, and I swayed at the decadence of his verbal caress, longing for the physical one that would soon follow. In delicious increments, my hungry gaze traveled up his strong legs, lingering on where he’d shoved a hand in his pocket, then to his narrow waist, solid chest, and broad shoulders that leaned against the open doorway to his room. But when I got to his devastatingly handsome face, our surroundings faded away, and I was forever lost.
Closing the distance, he enveloped me in his strong embrace. This was home. We’d find a way to be together. We had to. After all, there was no fighting destiny.
Boom. A loud crash reverberated above me likely from the construction crew, jarring me back to reality—to the present. What was that? My head pounded and my heart rate had yet to return to normal, thudding against my rib cage as if I’d sprinted.
A gnawing emptiness consumed me as I stood rooted to the scuffed floor in the life
less hallway, devoid of the gorgeous Cristiano and the promises that had smoldered in his dark eyes. The heat that had spread like wildfire while caught in the vision extinguished, leaving me chilled to the bone.
Not more than three feet away, his door was ajar, and I rushed forward and burst into the room, yearning for another vision of him. Tears misted then grew heavy and clung to my lashes before tumbling down my icy cheeks.
I turned in a slow circle, the windowless room dark, devoid of furniture, and of Cristiano. But in the recess of my mind, a faint hint of coffee beans teased my memories, and I felt him still. With a flick of my finger, I pulled up the flashlight on my iPad and shone it around the tiny space.
The walls were bare, and a thick layer of dust lined the old, narrow, wood plank floor. There weren’t any amenities in this room. It was square and lacking comfort. Without looking, I knew I’d passed a small closet by the stairs where brooms and such would have been. A community kitchen with the essentials would be down here and had escaped my notice as I was drawn to this room in particular.
I set the iPad in the corner, angling it, so the light spilled across the room, illuminating much of the floor and walls. A rectangle of wallpaper was less worn where a picture must have hung, and a small crease with a bubble behind it drew me closer. As in the hallway, I trailed my fingers along the wall rounding on the spot that held my focus—until the toe of my shoe caught on an uneven portion of flooring, and I tripped, landing on my knees. Pain shot into my kneecaps, traveling along my legs, and jolting to my stomach. I shifted to rest on my hip and forearms, my body locked in place as nausea held me in its grip. I sucked in air through my nose, frantically swallowing the pooling saliva back down, willing myself not to throw up.
Cold sweat beaded along my hairline and upper lip. Minutes passed, and with each one, the pain and sickness faded. I waited a while longer until the ache dulled enough to shift so I could see what I’d tripped over. One of the floorboards had a notch, big enough to fit two of my fingers under it. That had to be what I’d caught my shoe on. Moving closer, I slipped the tips of my fingers beneath the board and pulled. It loosened, and I was able to remove it from the floor. Instead of a subfloor, there was a small hole.