He shook his head and tossed down the last of his drink. He'd need the fortification. He still had four more employees to interview, and he wasn't at all sure he even wanted to go through with it. Romeo Corvi seemed to employ only morons like himself. Everything considered, Henry thought it incredible that the hotel ran as smoothly as it did. It certainly couldn't be due to Corvi or the employees he'd met so far. He'd have to ask around and find out who kept things running from behind the scenes. Whoever it was would have to be complimented . . . even moved into Corvi's position.
One way or another, Romeo Corvi had to go, and the sooner that was done the better off the hotel, and the entire Hale organization, would be. Nor would he alone get his walking papers. Maurizio Corvi would, too. His had been the single most unbelievably embarrassing interview of all. The identical last names of the two had not been lost on Henry.
A major shake-up was due at the Roma Hale but Henry knew he would have to wait a few days. Elizabeth-Anne had a firm rule that no one was ever to be fired unless there was a replacement waiting in the wings. Once one was lined up, then management could proceed with the professional insensitivity of a surgeon.
All in all, Henry thought, shaking his head as he went back inside the suite, the Roma Hale reminded him just a little too much of the Hale Hotels in Mexico and Hong Kong. There, too, things had been run in a maddeningly slovenly fashion. That is, until Henry had arrived on the scene to put a screeching halt to all that. For the time being, the Azcapotzalco, Cozumel, and Victoria Hales were running at peak efficiency. For a man his age, he had already become a master at shaking things up. But, then, trouble shooting was his job, his talent, just as helping to run the most luxurious hotel chain in the world was in his blood.
Henry was about to call for the next interview when his attention was diverted by a loud voice right outside the suite. 'What the hell - ' he muttered aloud as he crossed over to the double doors and threw them open.
As the elevator had risen higher and higher, so had Anna's adrenalin. By the time she got off on the tenth floor, she had reached a state of rage.
Corvi, that deceitful, disagreeable, disdainful little shit. He didn't miss a single opportunity to trip her up. She had had it with him. If he thought she would take this latest scheme lying down, he had a surprise coming, the sorry bastard.
She clenched her hands together and took a deep breath, fighting for control. When she got off the elevator she stopped to check her appearance in the ornate mirror hanging above a gilt console in the corridor. She wore little make-up, and the pulsating anger made her face look curiously hard. It was hardly the way she wanted to face anybody for an interview, but it would have to do. Anger alone would give her the nerve to barge in to see Henry Hale.
She marched down the creamy carpet to the white- lacquered door of the Amalfi Suite, then hesitated only a fraction of a second. Tightening her jaw, she raised her clenched hand to knock and then heard a lisping voice that froze her arm in midair.
'What do you think you're doing, Signorina Vigano?'
Anna turned and found Romeo Corvi rushing toward her. She faced him squarely, by instinct spreading her feet in a fighter's stance.
'Steady,' she warned herself silently as her heart knocked like a trip-hammer against her ribcage. 'Don't lose your cool. He's going to bait you, and you mustn't rise up to it like a starved fish.'
She spoke aloud then, trying to make her voice sound casual. 'I was about to see about my interview.'
'Your interview?' He smiled an ugly smirk which made his lips and thin nostrils look curiously shark-like. 'I'm afraid you're not scheduled, Signorina Vigano.'
She felt the hairs at the nape of her neck beginning to rise. 'I'm going in there,' she announced quietly but firmly, 'and you cannot stop me.'
'I wouldn't try it if I were you,' he hissed. The smirk was frozen on his lips.
'And why not?'
'Because the moment you step through that door, you will be fired.'
She stared into his face, trying to read the seriousness of his threat. Instead, she saw something that surprised her: fear. He was afraid of Henry Hale. The realization struck her with the force of the courage she needed.
'We'll soon see about that,' she said coldly. She grabbed the polished brass door handle, but quick as a cobra his hand struck out and seized hers. She glared into his face, his eau de cologne cloyingly sweet and overpowering at such close range. 'I'll trouble you to let me go,' she said, her voice hard.
'You are fired, Signorina Vigano,' he hissed. 'As of this very moment. Go collect your things and leave at once.'
Whether determination or sheer fury caused her to act, she would never know. She feigned to loosen her grip, and he let go of her hand. The moment he lifted his fingers, she moved to open the door again, but he grabbed her by the arms and pushed her roughly away.
'Let me . . . go,' she cried, fighting to reach the door handle again as he held her back. 'Let me go, you . . . you worm!'
And at that precise instant the door to the suite was flung open from the inside. Both Corvi and Anna froze in the middle of their struggle, twisted their heads around, and stared at the tall, handsome blond man silhouetted in the doorway.
Anna's eyes flashed. For a split second she couldn't take it in that it was actually him, that this was how she was to meet her interviewer. Then she slumped, and all the fight seeped out of her.
Henry Hale stared at both of them for a long, silent moment. He couldn't believe the display before him, and was at first disgusted by another one of Corvi's tricks. Then he noticed the girl.
What jumped out at him first were her startlingly cornflower blue eyes. He had never seen eyes like that - so radiant, so alluring. But then he realized he had never seen anyone quite like her before at all. She was not just the only woman he had ever really noticed; he was certain she was the most beautiful woman on earth.
All this flashed through Henry's mind in an instant, while Anna and Corvi remained frozen in their ridiculous tableau. Then Corvi seemed to suddenly realize he was still pinning down Anna's arms. He let go of her, his face glowing red with embarrassment. He yanked out his white handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead as Anna began brushing her arms with her fingers, as though trying to rid herself of the remnants of Corvi's crawling touch.
'So would someone like to tell me just what the hell is going on here?' Henry asked.
Corvi spoke first. 'This woman insisted on going in to see you unannounced,' he said disdainfully in his thickly accented English.
'Indeed?' Henry's eyebrows arched. 'And why should she want to do that?'
'Because,' Corvi said, raising his chin, 'she is a born trouble maker.' He punctuated the word 'troublemaker' with a quick, birdlike nod, his eyes glaring at Anna.
'Is this true, Signorina?' Henry asked, gazing at her.
Her eyes flashed for a moment, and her fingertips froze in the midst of brushing her arms. 'That's a matter of opinion,' she answered with all the dignity she could muster.
Henry raised his eyebrows in surprise. Her English was exceptionally good, with little trace of an accent.
'She was fired,' Corvi snapped, taking advantage of the moment. 'She was fired, but refused to leave. The gall.' He drew himself up, tucked his handkerchief back into his pocket, and adjusted his silk tie. Anna remained silent,
'And why,' Henry asked her, 'were you fired?'
'Because she refuses to obey specific - ' Corvi began heatedly.
Henry's quiet but sharp voice cut Corvi off in mid- sentence. 'I asked the Signorina.'
Corvi shut his mouth, but stood simmering.
'I was fired,' Anna explained, as calmly as she could, 'because Signor Corvi took it upon himself to rearrange the interview schedule for the Management Training Course, and I wouldn't stand for it. I was unavoidably late and he took the opportunity to stick his brother in my place.'
'Maurizio Corvi,' Henry said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin with his thumb and forefinger.
His expression was grave, but his eyes were now dancing with amusement. Everything was beginning to fall into place.
'Yes, Maurizio Corvi.' Anna rolled the name on her tongue with distinct distaste.
'Might I add,' Corvi said in a brittle voice, 'that Maurizio was initially scheduled? That when the telex went out with the list of applicants, Signorina Vigano herself struck his name off the list and put her own in its place.'
Henry looked at her questioningly.
'I did,' she conceded. 'But Maurizio didn't deserve to be on it. If anybody did, it was me.'
'Be that as it may.' Henry turned to Corvi. 'Signor Corvi, as the manager of this hotel you, better than anyone, should know that employees do not fight in the public areas. There are plenty of employees' areas where you can do just that. Our guests do not pay premium rates in order to watch squabbles. We are a hotel, not a coliseum.'
Corvi swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.
'And you, Signorina,' Henry continued in an equally cold voice, 'as an employee, you should not only be aware of the same thing, but should at least obey the orders of your manager.'
Her eyes fell. She felt tears of anger stinging in them, and was ashamed to show it. She was boiling inside, but she knew that this was no time to erupt. She must stand rebuked. The only outward signs of her anger were her tightly compressed lips and the swift heaves of her breasts.
'I think,' Henry suggested, 'that we would all benefit if we simply forgot this unfortunate incident. You, Signor Corvi, may go back to whatever you were doing.'
'But. . . but what about her?' Corvi spluttered.
'The Signorina may come inside my suite. That is contingent, of course, upon her temper.' He turned to face Anne, his eyes shining.
Anne nodded with relief and slipped past him into the suite. Henry followed her, shut the door, leaned casually back against it, and burst out laughing.
She bristled and stared at him in fury. Alone with him now, she couldn't help but notice how handsome he was with his wheat-gold hair, strong profile and cleft chin. He was a big man, tanned and expensively dressed and when he met her eyes with his own surprisingly blue ones, Anna's breath caught. She guessed him to be about her age, but he obviously came from the other side of the tracks - the right side. That, on top of the attraction she would have preferred not to feel - that she had believed she would never feel for a man again - and his blithe laughter at her predicament, all combined to make her strike out in anger. 'I suppose you think this is all very funny?' she asked as coldly as she could.
'The fight, you mean?' he asked, still laughing.
She nodded stiffly.
But he hadn't stopped smiling. 'No, it's not funny. But you are.'
'Me!'
'You.' With a huge effort he pulled himself together and reassumed his grave, businesslike manner. 'I don't believe I've ever met anyone quite as forward or determined as you seem to be.'
'I did what I had to do,' she replied.
'Of course you did,' he said. 'You rose to the occasion quite courageously.'
Somehow, this didn't make her feel any better.
He cocked his elbow and slid back his cuff to look at- his watch. 'It's nearly lunch time.' He adjusted his cuff. 'You couldn't, by any chance, recommend a good restaurant for a business meeting?'
She seemed to shrivel visibly. Apparently, he didn't have time for her after all and had only called her into the suite to further humiliate her.
'And the interview?' she asked morosely.
He came toward her and placed his hands on her arms. 'It is you I want to have lunch with,' he said softy.
'You mean . . . I still stand a chance to go to New York?'
'Yes, you do.'
She smiled then, her entire face lighting up. She almost couldn't believe it; despite Romeo Corvi, the opportunity toward which she had for so long worked was still within reach. She let out a deep breath of relief.
But Anna would never make it to the Management Training Course; Mirella Brino was the one who finally went. For after lunch, Henry took the rest of the day off, and spent it with Anna. Something magical clicked between them, and neither had to delve into their hearts to understand their feelings. Their reaction to one another was immediate and instinctual.
That weekend, they drove to Naples, took the hydrofoil over to Ischia, and spent the weekend together, lying in the sun during the day, and making love at night.
Henry Hale, who had never done an impulsive thing in his life, and Anna Vigano, who after her luckless relationship with Amedeo had sworn she would never fall for another man, quietly got married before the weekend was up.
For the first time in his life, Henry had done the unthinkable. Those who knew him well were astonished. Henry had never taken a single day off from work, let alone two entire weeks.
'We're going on a honeymoon before heading to New York,' he announced to a surprised Anna as they lay together in bed the morning after the wedding.
'But. . . your work,' she protested.
'It'll keep for two weeks. Believe me, Grandmother will see to it that nothing suffers.'
'What about your family? They don't even know we're married.'
'They'll find out soon enough,' he assured her. 'Right now, I want you all to myself.' He gripped her in a gentle bear hug and held her close.
'Where do you want us to go?' she asked.
He kissed the tip of her nose. It had happened so fast, he was still amazed at the happiness he had found with Anna. To love someone so much that he wanted to spend every waking and sleeping hour with her was a joy which he had never anticipated. 'We'll go wherever you desire,' he promised softly, 'as long as it's far from any Hale hotel. And we'll be alone, just you and me. Name the place, Mrs. Hale.'
She tilted her head back and laughed. 'I don't have the faintest idea of where to go!'
He smiled at the mixed expression of bewilderment and delight on her face. 'Never mind. I have an idea. We'll play an old American game. It's called Pin the Tail on the Donkey.'
'Pin the . . . what?'
'You'll see.' He released her, patted her once on the bottom, and then telephoned down to the reception desk. He instructed the clerk to send up a map of the world. 'And also have the gift shop pick out a scarf,' he added. 'Preferably one of dark silk. Oh, and a brooch as well. Charge them to my suite.' When the clerk said she wasn't sure if they had a map, he simply replied, 'Then I'm sure you'll be able to improvise something.'
Anna was speechless. If fairies and sugar plums were the stuff of childhood dreams, then this was the adult version of the same. The magic that great amounts of money could perform was still unimaginable to her. Being able to pack up and travel at a moment's notice to any far corner of the earth without even having to consider the cost was something entirely foreign to her.
The travel desk wasn't able to produce a map of the world, but the receptionist had sent up a packet of the next best thing, brochures and pamphlets for tours and cruises the world over. Henry nodded to himself. They would do. They all had maps of one specific area or another, which he quickly tore out. Then he pushed aside a couch, lifted a picture down off the wall, and began taping the maps to the walls in a reasonable facsimile of the globe. He stepped back to inspect his handiwork, and they both burst out laughing. It was a mismatched world consisting of a magnified Mediterranean, a giant Mexico, a small Scandinavia, a tiny East Africa, and only small bits of the Far East.
Henry lifted the scarf out of the shallow gift box and fashioned it into a blindfold, which he then solemnly tied around Anna's eyes.
'Really, Henry,' she protested mildly, her hands instinctively touching the blindfold.
'Ssssh,' he said, kissing her lips. 'Indulge me . . . Now here, hold this brooch and stick the needle end of it into the wall. Wherever you stick it is where we'll go. Watch it! You don't want to stab yourself. Now, hold it out . . . this way.' He placed his hands on her shoulders and led her toward the map. She moved with cautious steps, uncom
fortable with the blindfold. Then he turned her around and around, so that she completely lost her bearings.
'Now pick a spot. Remember, whichever place you pick is where we're going on our honeymoon.'
'Henry . . . ' She turned in the direction of his voice.
'I'm deadly serious. Do as I say.'
She nodded obediently and stepped forward, feeling her way with an outstretched hand. She held the brooch out, moved it hesitantly up and down, left and right, and then without further ado stabbed it into the wall.
He slid the blindfold off her and she stared at the wall. 'C-Cozumel?' She turned to him, her blue eyes wide.
'Cozumel it is,' she smiled.
'But . . . we don't have any clothes for Mexico,' she sputtered.
'We'll buy whatever we need on the way, and whatever else we don't have, I'm sure we can buy there.'
'Henry . . . ' She was starting to cry.
'Aren't you happy?' he asked worriedly, pulling her toward him.
She sniffed and nodded. 'Being sad isn't the only reason to cry,' she sobbed into his chest.
The two weeks they spent alone together were amongst the happiest they could recall.
They didn't stay at any of the big beach-front tourist hotels. Henry called up a friend, a film producer by the name of Schulkin, to see about renting his house. Two years previously, Elizabeth-Anne had invested in one of Schulkin's pictures. Henry had been in on it, and when the picture turned out to be a good investment, they had all become friends. Now, not only did Bernie Schulkin agree to the rental, he also swore on his mother's grave to keep Henry's whereabouts a secret.
'I get it, you son of a bitch,' Bernie laughed over the phone. 'Making it into a love nest, eh? How many girls you taking?'
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