Falling for Her Convenient Groom

by Jennifer Faye

  The staff had been disappointed, as they’d already brainstormed all the ways their marriage could be used to promote their family businesses. Carla and Franco explained away their reluctance to make the campaign personal because the businesses involved more people than just themselves.

  Monday morning, Carla had been up before the sun—in fact, she’d been up before Franco—and out the door. At every meeting so far, it felt as though he was always a step ahead of her. And that wasn’t good.

  This deal had been her brainchild. She should be the one leading the way through this new collaboration. As such, she’d called an upper management meeting. She’d told them she didn’t care if it took overtime, she wanted new material for this collaboration from additional product placement to innovative advertising targeted at the young crowd. She wanted everyone to know that this wasn’t just their grandparents’ and parents’ place to eat but a destination for first dates and engagements.

  She didn’t care what part of this venture it was, she wanted fresh ideas. And lately she’d found herself quite distracted between her sexy new husband—erm, her partner, and worrying about her father, who in turn was worried about her.

  Carla glanced at the time on her computer monitor. Less than an hour and Franco would show up. He liked to show up early, looking all prepared, while she was scrambling to put out fires before pulling together her latest developments on the project. She seemed to think that people who showed up early didn’t have enough work to do. She definitely had enough work to do and then some.

  Knock. Knock.

  She glanced up at her open office door to find Stu Phillips, the head of publicity, standing there. The man was in his sixties. His white hair was trimmed short. His black-rimmed reading glasses sat low on his bulbous nose. His gray eyes peered at her over the rims. He still wore his dark suit and tie, even though a few years back she’d talked her father into implementing a business-casual policy.

  In his hands were a stack of papers. Oh, good. This is just what I need.

  Carla waved him inside the office. “I was hoping to have something to present at our meeting today. What do you have for me?”

  “We’ve worked on some new labels for the spices.” Stu was polite, but he wasn’t overly enthused that she was now in charge. He was part of the old guard, personally hired by her father. “I honestly don’t know why we have to change all our labels just because we’re going to add a couple of spices from that Marchello company.”

  This wasn’t the first time he’d voiced his complaint. He must have thought that repeating himself would make her agree with him. He was wrong. “You’re doing this because I told you to.”

  “But when your father comes back—”

  “My father will back my plans.” Her unwavering gaze met his. “But in the meantime, I’m here and I’m the boss. So we’re going to do this my way.”

  Redesigning the in-house labels perhaps wasn’t where she would have started. She’d have probably worked on the macro vision for this project and then worked her way down to the micro images. But she wasn’t one to tell people how to do their jobs, so long as they got good results. “Let’s see what you have.”

  She held out her hands for the printouts. He glared at her, and she mentally dared him to continue to argue with her. She wasn’t in the mood to take any flak. She had more important things on her mind.

  He wisely chose to hand over the papers quietly.

  She glanced over the new labels, taking in the choice of words, the font used and the colors selected. None of it was what they’d discussed. They greatly resembled their current labels.

  She set the pages on the desk and lifted her gaze to meet his. “Were you in the same meeting as I was when we discussed the new look?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts. This is not what I want. None of this is going to work. Go back and do better.”

  His gray brows drew together as storm clouds gathered in his eyes. He hesitated to move as though he was ready to tell her that he knew better. He didn’t. The truth of the matter was that he was costing her time—time she didn’t have.

  “You know what,” she said, “I’m going to accompany you back to your department. We’re going to review what I expect so there are no further misunderstandings. And definitely no more delays.”

  Not waiting for Stu to disagree, she got up from her chair and headed for the hallway. She didn’t have much time before Franco showed up, but this was critically important to the launch of their plan. Franco would understand if she wasn’t sitting here waiting for him. At least she hoped so.

  * * *

  He was early.

  Franco liked to make it a habit to be early to meetings. He supposed that it was a bit of his grandfather coming out in him. He had been taught that a person who took his work seriously made time for it and didn’t use excuses to explain being unprepared.

  Promptness showed a person’s character. He liked to think that his early arrivals showed everyone around him that he was very serious about his business and that there wasn’t anything more important to him.

  He moved with long strides down the hallway until he came to the outer area of Carla’s office. They’d planned to meet privately before the committee meeting in the conference room. The inner door to Carla’s office was open, but she wasn’t inside. When he turned his attention to her assistant, she was on the phone. Rosa held up a finger, indicating that it’d just be a moment.

  He backtracked into the hallway, not wanting to lurk about and overhear her conversation. He was hoping to catch sight of Carla. They’d missed each other that morning.

  What had her up and out of the penthouse so early? He couldn’t help but feel that it had something to do with their collaboration. Right now, it was the main focus for both of them, because they were both working within shorter time constraints. And lately they’d been hitting one stumbling block after another.

  “Signor,” Rosa called out to him.

  He stepped into the office. “Sorry to bother you. I was supposed to meet with Carla.”

  Rosa nodded in understanding. “She said you would be stopping by. She had to step out of her office for a moment. She said you could wait inside for her. She shouldn’t be long.”

  “Grazie.” He smiled at the woman before stepping into the office.

  He sat down in one of the black leather chairs facing her desk. He lifted his briefcase to his lap and pulled out some papers he’d brought to show her.

  Carla’s desk was filled with binders and folders, so he stood and walked around to place the printouts in the center of her desk where she could see them right away. As he turned away, he noticed the image of a spice container.

  He recalled her mentioning that they were going to work on the product labels. He picked up the papers and looked over it, finding that it said nothing about the Marchello brand. If it weren’t for the name of the blend, he would think this was an old printout, but Harvest Zest was a name for a blend that had been developed at Marchello. He and Carla had discussed that particular blend at length.

  And yet as he flipped through the pages of images, they all had the Falco name in large letters at the top as though the spices were theirs. Franco’s jaw tightened. This couldn’t be happening.

  Had he trusted Carla too much? Had she found a loophole in their contract? Was she planning to take their ideas and run with them on her own?

  He’d trusted Rose in the beginning, and she’d stared straight at him as she lied about her supposed pregnancy. Unease churned in his gut. Had Carla just done that with their business arrangement?

  His back teeth ground together. This couldn’t be happening. And he had no one to blame but himself, because his grandfather had warned him that the Falcos were cheaters. Foolishly, Franco had thought it was just Carla’s father that couldn’t be trusted, but now he had to wonder about
her, too.

  Knock. Knock.

  Rosa stood in the doorway. “Excuse me. Carla just called and asked if you’d meet her in the conference room.”

  Franco placed the papers back on her desk just as he’d found them. “Thank you. I’ll do that. I just need to place a quick phone call.”

  “I’ll leave you to it.” Rosa closed the door, giving him some privacy.

  He quickly dialed his legal team. He alerted them to his concern that Carla might try to write Marchello Spices out of the deal. He didn’t like to think he’d married someone who would turn on him, but he couldn’t afford to take anything for granted.

  He still didn’t trust Carla, even though his legal team had assured him there was no way she could cut him out of this deal. He wanted to believe them—believe in his wife. But he knew firsthand that the people you were supposed to trust the most were the ones that could let you down the most.

  If it hadn’t been for his grandfather always pushing for everyone around him to do better, would his father still be here? Still be a part of his life?

  As a child, he hadn’t understood why his parents had left. He’d decided way back then to focus fully on being the best CEO possible when he grew up. And his goal never wavered—until he met Carla. Now he wondered what it’d be like to share his life with someone he loved and trusted. Could Carla be that person?

  His heart said yes, but his mind kept throwing up caution signs. He had no choice but to confront her about the redesigned labels he’d seen on her desk. He didn’t want her to think he’d been spying on her, but he didn’t see how he had any other choice.

  He disconnected the call and set off down the hallway. The door to the conference room was ajar, and Carla was the only one inside.

  She glanced up from her laptop. “Looks like we’re the first ones here.”

  “We need to talk.” He closed the door, giving them some privacy.

  She shut her laptop. “It sounds serious.”

  “It is.”

  He cleared his throat. “How are the labels for the spices coming?”

  She glanced down to straighten some papers. “They aren’t ready yet.”

  He was waiting for her to explain the reason her company’s name was on the label instead of his. “Anything I can help with?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve got it. I’ve been working on it personally.”

  That just made it worse. Any thoughts of pursuing some alone time with Carla just fizzled away. If he couldn’t trust her, he just couldn’t let her get close to him.

  He cleared his throat. “Why isn’t the Marchello name on the in-house labels?”

  Her gaze met his. Worry reflected in her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw the mockups on your desk. They look a lot like your current labels.”

  She sat up straight. “You weren’t meant to see those.”

  “Because you’re planning to cut me out of this deal and run with all of our ideas on your own?”

  Her mouth opened as though she was appalled by his accusation, but he noticed she didn’t immediately deny the allegation. Then her glossy lips pressed into a firm line as her eyes darkened with anger. “Is that really what you think of me?”

  “You wouldn’t be the first person in my life to put your personal interests ahead of your obligation to me.”

  All of a sudden, the flames of anger were doused and she looked upon him with sympathy. “Are you talking about your parents?”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I just need to know that you’re going to keep your word.”

  “I am. I promise.”

  He wanted to believe her. But could he? His heart said yes. But his mind said to be cautious.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “WHERE ARE WE GOING? There’s work to be done.”

  The following week, Franco smiled at Carla’s complaint. He guided his dark sedan along the roadway toward the northern Lake Como region. He had just seen the new in-house labels with the Marchello name prominently displayed. Carla had kept her word.

  And now he’d planned a special field trip for them. They’d been working night and day ironing out the details of this collaboration. At times, it’d been intense. At other times, they’d played off each other’s inspiration.

  This venture was going to be so much more than he’d ever hoped for—bigger than any PR campaign that Marchello Spices had ever participated in throughout the history of the company. And he couldn’t wait to reveal it all to his grandfather. It would prove to him once and for all that he was the rightful successor.

  “Franco, you missed the turnoff to the lake.”

  “I know. We have a stop to make before we go to the villa.”

  “But I thought you said this was going to be a working weekend.”

  “It is, but today is so warm and sunny that I thought we’d work outdoors.” He smiled as he thought of the special plan he’d put together.

  “Outdoors? I don’t think so. Now isn’t the time to lose focus. We are so close to having this plan all mapped out. Then we just have to put all the pieces into action.”

  They already had quite a few projects in the works. Both of their companies had come into this agreement with plans already underway. Carla’s company had the facelifts planned and in motion with the restaurants, while his company had worked on new spice combinations as well as recipes to highlight those spices.

  But there was still one area where the two of them just couldn’t come together—the advertisements for this new venture. Carla wanted to go with the tried-and-true ad segments with young people enjoying food in a Falco restaurant. She was eager to draw in the young crowd who would turn into lifelong patrons.

  He, on the other hand, wanted to do something totally new to show the viewers, both young and old alike, that even though it was still their favorite reliable restaurant, there was something new lurking beyond its doors. They’d even had numerous PR teams pitch ad campaign after ad campaign. While they liked bits and pieces of the various ads, none were the full image they’d been hoping for.

  But Franco had something in mind, and he was willing to gamble a day of work to play it out and see if he and Carla could agree upon one vision that they could take back to their teams.

  “Just relax.” He easily guided the car along the narrow, winding road.

  She didn’t say anything as she leaned her head back against the seat and stared out the window at the passing greenery. He hoped the crew he’d put in charge of this surprise wouldn’t let him down. He’d given them very precise instructions.

  Finally, their destination came into sight. Franco slowed the car and pulled off to the side of the desolate road near a white panel truck with the Marchello Spices slogan emblazed on the side.

  “Where are we?” Carla sat up and looked all around at the empty field.

  “This property belongs to a friend of mine.”

  Just then the men climbed into the white truck and with a wave pulled away, allowing a view of a table with a red-and-white tablecloth in the middle of the green field with the mountain range in the background.

  “What is this?” Carla asked.

  “It’s my surprise. Come on.” He climbed out of the car.

  She joined him. Then he took her hand and led her to the table. He pulled out a chair for her. And then he sat across from her. In the center of the table stood a candle and some flowers. There was a slight breeze, so the candle remained unlit.

  “This is—” she glanced around “—definitely different. But I don’t understand what we’re doing here.”

  That’s when Franco reached into the insulated box next to him and removed two covered plates as well as wrapped utensils. “We talked about new dishes for the menu that utilize the Marchello Spices blends.”

  “Oh.” She lifted the lid fr
om the small china plate and found an arrangement of pasta and a side of a vegetable medley. “This is very impressive.”

  He smiled. “I hope you like the taste as much as the appearance.”

  “I hope so, too.”

  He poured them each a glass of sparkling water. And then they started sampling the food. There were numerous plates all done up with specifically chosen dishes as well as garnishments.

  They ate and then compared notes. Some were pretty good. Some dishes were not so good, but a few were exceptional.

  When they’d finished eating, Carla said, “I think we’ve found our menu items. Of course, we’ll have to run them by our focus group, but I can’t see how they won’t love them.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it. My group has been perfecting these recipes since before we started working together.”

  Carla took a sip of water. She glanced toward the road as a couple of cars slowed to stare before passing. “It looks like we’re getting some strange looks.”

  “They’re just jealous and wish they could have a picnic lunch like ours.”

  She turned to him. “Why did you pick this place? Why not eat at the villa?”

  “Because I thought this might inspire thoughts for the ad campaign.”

  She looked all around. “You want to feature a field for the backdrop for eating our new dishes?”

  “It’s not just any field. It’s picturesque, with the Alps in the background.” He wasn’t doing a good job of explaining his concept to her.

  “I think I know what you mean,” Carla said. “The food can transport you to a different place. By eating Falco Fresco with Marchello Spices, it can take you from enjoying the ordinary to experiencing something extraordinary.”

  He pulled out his phone and started making notes.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Well, it seems I’m not the only one good at thinking up slogans. I wanted to write it down before I forget.”

  “It’s not that good.”

  “I think with your words and my vision, the ad campaign will be a big success.”