“Hey, Williams. Come and join us,” greets Jess, the first to notice me.
“Hi, Jess. Hi, Rach. Good morning. Wow. You girls look as wonderful as ever.”
They smile back at me.
“Well, hopefully we will meet some interesting people today,” starts Jess. “I’ve looked at the names of the fund managers coming—they’re mostly from Milan, London, Frankfurt, and Paris. I’ve always wanted to come to Europe after my MBA and gain some experience here.”
“Gatt-Dieren has an office in Amsterdam, I think,” adds Rach.
“Yep, they do. I heard they’re also looking to expand into Asia.”
“How do you know that?” I ask, surprised at not knowing that myself.
“Well, I have my sources,” Jess replies with a sly smile before looking strangely at me. “You know, Williams, don’t take this the wrong way, but why don’t you wear a suit and heels like everyone else? You’ll look more mature and far more confident. We’re in such elegant surroundings and we are representing the company. Look around, everyone is at their best.”
I raise an eyebrow. I knew sooner or later Ms. Jess would unleash some sort of comment about my looks. After all, I’ve always worn skinny jeans and simple flats combined with a smart blazer that I’d leave hanging on my chair. But I like my style—today I’ve decided to wear white skinny jeans paired with elegant camel flats and a striped white-and-light-blue shirt, sleeves already up to the elbows. No jacket—it’s way too hot. My long black hair is wild and wavy like usual, with a barrette in the back. I’ve applied just some mascara and a natural gloss on my lips. “I don’t like heels,” I reply with a friendly smile. “Either flats or sneakers.”
“I know, but you are in Italy. People are dressing up for the conference. Europeans love to dress up.” What does she have anything to say about my looks?
“Don’t worry, Williams. Jess is just trying to help,” intervenes Rach. “So you can be the best version of yourself.”
“I see,” I nod politely. “Thanks for the advice.”
The Ritz ballroom takes everyone’s breath away. Some two hundred people are sitting in the majestic room featuring crystal chandeliers and a hand-painted high ceiling. Not quite as resplendent as the Sistine Chapel, but truly remarkable.
Jess is right—everyone’s looking radiant and at their very best in elegant and formal suits, some with ties, others without. Italians are upholding their country’s reputation and are by far the most stylish. The event moderator welcomes everyone, and the first session begins.
After a ninety-minute panel on the changing financial landscape, it’s finally time for a coffee break. The audience quickly moves to the buffet, gathering outside.
“Time for networking,” adds Jess.
I grab a tea and stand alone on the edge of the group, already missing my book and earbuds. I glance around and see Jess and Rach talking to two, what seem to be, Italian fund managers—they are probably in their fifties, Dad’s age—laughing hard at their jokes and exchanging business cards. I roll my eyes.
I decide to leave and head back to my seat in the conference room. Since everyone’s still outside, I’m finally alone, enjoying the wonderful silence.
I grab my iPhone and text, I miss you so much. Currently in Rome, such a boring kiss-ass conference. Save me! Xx. While this would’ve been the perfect message to send to Alexander, I send it to Emma instead. I would’ve never expected, but I’m missing so much Emma’s careless attitude, her rock ’n’ roll style, her overpriced big dark T-shirts, her slang, her nostril piercing, her bad manners, her insolence… Emma is the opposite of everything here. And right now, I feel just like Emma, but with the good manners, the good looks, and polished language.
To my surprise, she immediately texts back. Hey, babygirl! In Mykonos now. What’s up in Rome? Where are the hotties?
She knows so well how to put a smile on my face. No hotties, just plain, boring people, I decide to reply.
Emma’s typing… What about Van Dieren? Not there? He’s a hottie, and def not a boring one.
Ugh! Why does she have to mention him? Van Dieren played smart. He didn’t come. If I knew it would be this boring, I wouldn’t have come either.
Indeed, now it’s all clear in my mind. Unless Alex wanted to have some fun like those Italian managers hanging out with two young MBA girls, there is nothing for him at this conference. He would’ve only been here to enjoy Rome—the downtown, the finest restaurants, the drinks, the nightlife, and the Italian women. He has no time to waste at this tedious event—that’s why he sent Andrew and his interns.
Following lunch, some of the attendees have decided to go to the bar near reception to taste the hotel’s newest signature cocktails. Looks like Giovanni, one of the Italian hedge fund managers, and Jess are among them.
I, on the other hand, decide to go back to the conference room. After all, the next session is starting in five minutes. The room darkens and a new moderator steps onto the stage, introducing the panelists who’ll cover alternative investment strategies.
About twenty-five minutes in, Jess finally emerges, making her way from the back to take the seat beside me. She’s holding her purse and a business card. I stare discreetly at her while she’s sitting down. Her face is unusually glowing, her mind miles away, her smile like never before.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Williams, this is the best conference ever. I’m so happy to be here.”
I lift my brow, smiling at her. “May I know why?”
“Do you know what I have here?” She asks while waving the business card.
“Giovanni’s business card?”
“Nope. Much better.”
I chuckle. “The Pope’s?”
“This is the business card.” She sniffs it proudly.
I burst into laughter, head shaking.
“And no, Williams, I’m not gonna share it with you.”
“I don’t even know whose it is.”
Regardless, I’m quite happy to see Jess in such a playful mood, a good change from her usual formal attitude.
“Okay, you can hold it for one second.” Jess hands me the card.
I read the name.
What? I blink many times and read it again. “Alexander Van Dieren?”
My jaw and heart fall to the floor.
“And time’s up.” She takes the card back abruptly.
“Where did you get this?” I’m confused. Did I read it correctly? Is it really his?
“He just gave it to me. I met him in the lobby. You know that hedge fund manager I met this morning, Giovanni?” I nod. “Well, we were talking about the conference, and all of a sudden, when Van Dieren arrives, Giovanni greets him, they start chatting, and he finally introduces me to him.” She lets out a sigh. “I obviously told him I’m one of his interns. So he smiles and asks me if I’m enjoying the internship and the conference. We spoke a bit...” Jess looks at me with a twinkle in her eye, her face beaming. “Oh gosh, his blue eyes, his gaze…” Okay, she is floating on cloud nine. “He gives you the feeling that you’re the most important person in the world, looking straight into your eyes… It was so hard to concentrate.”
I try hard not to giggle, but seeing formal Jess talking and acting like a little girl is so delightful. I must say, though, she’s describing him perfectly. “I’m happy you finally met him.” But mainly I’m happy to know he’s here. I wonder if he came because of me, or because of something else. After all, he didn’t text, not even to ask how I was doing! No. Absolutely nothing. I have to figure this out.
“Where’re you going?” she asks, seeing me rise from my seat. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna ask Giovanni for an intro?”
“Not at all. I have a few things to do. See you later.”
My footsteps are faster than usual. My heartbeat too. I walk down the hallway, nervous like the day I went to his office to pitch my investment plan. I have to be sure it’s really him. I step into the grand lobby and look aro
und.
Hidden among a group of men, where laughter is emanating, I can distinguish a tall, lean figure, impeccably dressed for summertime—white slim pants, a fitted light-blue shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a hand in his pocket and another holding his sunglasses. His mid-length hair is wild and wavy. I cross my arms, observing him. He’s definitely not dressed like the rest of his entourage, which sport formal jackets and suits. Alexander appears to be on vacation.
He looks up and notices me.
I can’t hear what he is saying to his friends, but they shake his hand and suddenly walk away, returning to the conference.
Alex’s finally alone.
He gazes back at me and smiles. Oh God. This is not my imagination fooling me—my godfather is really here in Rome, in the grand lobby of the St. Regis, standing right in front of me.
I can feel my excitement pounding hard in my chest. “You were not supposed to be here…” I rebuke.
“Williams,” he voices deliciously. I notice how his eyes dart from my face to my clothes all the way down to my feet, probably amused I’d chosen to dress the same. “I had to meet some folks from Milan and Singapore who were coming to the conference.”
“Of course,” I nod in sarcasm, but the corners of my mouth raise up with joy. I want so much to jump on him, wrap my arms around his neck, and kiss his cheek repeatedly, but the interns or Andrew could arrive at any time. Speaking of Andrew…
“Mr. Van Dieren.”
“Andrew.” Alex rolls his eyes and shakes his hand.
“What a pleasant surprise.” Andrew’s face beams while he shakes Alex’s hand for longer than usual. “I’m sorry I didn’t know you’d be joining; otherwise I’d have—”
“It’s alright. I’m not attending the conference. I’m just meeting with some of the attendees.”
Andrew can tell he’s interrupting, as Alex seems distant, staring away.
“Very well. If you need anything, I’ll be in the conference room.”
Alex nods at him and remains silent until Andrew disappears completely from our sight. “So, are you enjoying Rome?”
My smile gets wider. Now that you are here, yes! “Rome? I haven’t even managed to step outside yet. We’ve been locked in that room forever. But the panels are interesting, plus Andrew is amazing. He’s been very supportive.” I know he doesn’t like him. I notice how Jess was right—Alex is staring intently into my eyes. I feel my cheeks flushing. I smile with a dash of embarrassment, lower my gaze, and tuck some hair behind my ear.
“Andrew? I see…” He ponders for a brief moment. “I’m going for a walk. Would you like to join?”
Rome is the kind of city the more you walk around, the more you fall in love with it, from the old historic monuments standing on every corner to the small and charming terraces, the narrow streets, and the many sculptured fountains. To me, it feels like walking in an open museum for the ancient arts. And the weather is so warm. No wonder Italians have so many gelatarie around.
I stop once more, this time to observe the Fontana del Mosè, a monumental marble and travertine fountain near the hotel.
Alex pulls out his iPhone. “Let me take a picture of you.”
I put on my sweetest smile and quickly fix my hair as he checks the best angle for the photo. Click. “Perfect. I’ll send it to Roy. He’ll be delighted.”
“Right…” I hope it’s just an excuse to keep a picture of me in his phone. “It’s so warm. We should go for ice cream.”
He reaches for my hand and holds it tight. “I know a good place nearby, but we have to jaywalk.” He might have interlocked his fingers with mine just to safely cross the street, but I couldn’t care less—my heart either. I smile feeling his touch. Even if it’s just his hand, I’ve missed it terribly.
We finally step into one of his favorite gelaterie—the 119-year-old Giolitti, a landmark in the city. I lick my lips at the colorful flavors displayed in the glass case. Everything looks so damn delicious!
“Which one do you want?” he asks.
It seems impossible to choose between so many flavors. “Hmm… I don’t know. Maybe chocolate and coffee…” He shakes his head and sighs. “And you?”
“Pistachio and almond. I’d recommend you have the same.”
“Nope. Doesn’t sound good,” I reply, giggling.
“You’ll regret it,” he warns just before ordering two cones. I don’t think so. I’m quite confident my choice is great; he’s probably just teasing.
After a brief moment, he hands me an ice cream cone with my chosen flavors. And it looks really yummy!
“Grazie. Arrivederci.”
We leave the shop and walk back to the hotel while savoring our respective ice creams.
“Petra, I must say, you made a huge mistake...”
“Why?”
“This combination is wonderful,” he praises.
I don’t believe him, but he knows I’m curious. “Alright, let me taste.” I reach out and hold his cone, but he pulls it away.
“You’re not gonna lick my ice cream. Forget about it. You should have listened to me.”
“I need to know. I won’t live happily if I’m not certain mine is better than yours.”
“Of course my ice cream is better than yours. No doubt about it.” Since we don’t have any spoons, he takes a bit with his index fingertip. “Here.”
I’m certain mine is on point, but nevertheless, I hold his finger, open my mouth, and suck off the drop of ice cream, letting my palate find the flavor. “Hmm… this is the pistachio one?”
He nods. “You have to admit, Petra. I know it’s hard, but I won.”
I giggle loudly. “Why do you always pick the best flavors?”
“I told you to get pistachio and almond. It’s the perfect combination. You never listen…”
“I thought coffee and chocolate would have been great. But now I realize it’s way too sweet, even for me.”
“Poor little Petra,” he teases. “No need to find excuses—you won’t get any more of mine.”
Unfortunately, we are now approaching the hotel’s revolving door. I can’t help but let out a sigh. Time always flies when he’s around, and worse, it never feels like enough. I know I’ve got to leave his company very soon. After all, no one can see us together. It’d raise too much gossip, too many questions and misunderstandings.
“So, any plans for the evening?” I dare to ask. Maybe he’ll invite me to go somewhere.
“Yes, I’ve got a dinner with some folks from other funds. And you?”
“Oh, I see.” I can’t hide my disappointment, but suddenly, I’ve got an idea. “Well, enjoy your dinner. I also have plans but tomorrow…” I walk briskly ahead of him and step into the hallway.
“What do you mean?” he asks, following behind. “Aren’t you going to the conference dinner like everyone else?”
“Not really…” I throw him a cheeky smile. “Well, I’ve got to go; otherwise Andrew will be wondering where I am. Thanks for the ice cream.” And just like that, I disappear from his sight, leaving him baffled.
After dinner, I find Andrew alone in the lounge working on his computer. He’s wearing glasses for the first time. I decide to sit on the chair beside him. “Hi, Andrew.” Now it’s my turn to be all chatty.
By the look on his face, he didn’t expect me to be here. “Hi, Williams.”
“Are we still up for tomorrow evening?”
He raises his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“Well, tomorrow is our last night, so I thought we could go ‘somewhere nice,’ as you said on the plane…”
Andrew swallows hard, looks around to see if anyone is staring, and moves slightly closer to me. “You mean, you want to have dinner?” he asks, his voice barely audible.
“Yes, sure, why not? I was a bit sad that day and you were so kind…” I give him my sweetest smile.
“Okay, um, great. I’ll ask the concierge to make a reservation, and we can meet tomorrow at nine p.m
. here in the lobby. The other interns should be well entertained at the conference dinner.”
“Perfect.” I stand up, happy to have convinced him so easily.
“Williams?”
“Yes?”
He looks around once more. “This stays between us. Not a word to anyone, alright? Otherwise it will put us in a very delicate situation…” he murmurs.
“Of course. Don’t worry,” I reassure, smiling confidently at him. “Well, see you tomorrow.”
During the second day of the conference, Alexander was nowhere to be seen. He must have had an amazing and wild night, arrived early or late morning to his room, and slept all day long. Or maybe he went out for an afternoon with his new Italian conquest. I don’t know. But one thing is sure: this evening I’ll find out.
I’m feeling so excited and so nervous all at the same time. If everything’s gone as expected, Alex should have already figured out I’m having dinner with Andrew. How? I have no idea. But he knows I’m not going to the conference dinner, and he also knows I’ve got “feelings” for Andrew.
Well, if he cares enough about me, he won’t let this happen.
But what if he doesn’t care enough? What if he has plans tonight with someone else? What if I really have to dine with Andrew? Jeez! My stomach knots up, and my heart tightens at the thought of it.
I check my WhatsApp. So far, Alex hasn’t texted. I’d have expected by now some sort of message from him, angry or displeased about my dinner with Andrew, but nothing. Maybe he didn’t find out. Maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe I should just cancel. No. It’s too late—Andrew is already waiting for me downstairs.
Blossom in Winter Page 15