I smiled. It was easier to let her think I was nervous because of my first meeting with Alessandro Lucazzone. I couldn’t tell her that my heart was fluttering like a delicate butterfly throwing itself against its prison because the hour-long drive to Lake Como brought on more pain than I cared to acknowledge. And now my demons were officially out of the cage and I had to face them.
“He’ll be here eventually. You know that, right?” I whispered.
“I know,” Sylvie said. “But it doesn’t matter. You won’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to. You don’t have to see him ever again. He’s part of your past and he’ll stay that way.”
Taking a deep breath, I propped my head against the window and stared out at the stunning display of sparkling blue water and mountaintops, wondering whether I could really stay away from the one man who broke my heart.
Chapter 2
Tiny gravel stones crunched beneath the tires as the taxi came to a halt around the corner and parked neatly in the vast driveway of the Lucazzone estate. I paid the driver and exited the car, barely paying attention as he helped with the luggage. He took off down the unpaved private terrain that seemed to be the only way to reach the Lucazzone mansion, unless you didn’t mind a rocky boat ride across the lake on the other side of the estate. Both were secluded areas.
I knew I shouldn’t gawk and yet I couldn’t help myself. From up front, the magnificent building stretching three stories into the sky looked like a miniature of a Venetian palace, stuck in the middle of the countryside. The grand three-opening loggia with pillars and dovecotes on the roof was reminiscent of the fortress-like villas of the early 1500s, but it had a personal flair to it: a beauty that transcended place and time. A warmth that instantly made me feel at home, and at the same time a soft shiver ran down my spine because I realized that one day everything would be mine.
“It’s so beautiful.” Arms stretched out, I resisted the urge to spin in a slow circle. Instead, I inhaled the fragrant air. It wasn’t just beautiful—it was haunting, mesmerizing. So silent I could hear the chirping birds and the soft wind rustling the leaves. Sylvie didn’t answer. I shot her a sideway glance and caught the drawn brows. I didn’t dwell on it because old houses and nature weren’t exactly Sylvie’s thing. A margarita and a nightclub were more her locale.
“Let’s ring the bell,” I said, grabbing her arm and pulling her up the stairs to the front door.
“Shouldn’t the lawyer be expecting us?” Sylvie asked.
“He’s probably inside and didn’t hear the taxi. It’s a huge house.”
Sylvie mumbled something that resembled a ‘maybe.’ I paid her no attention as I pressed the bell. A moment later the door opened and Clarkson’s tall figure blocked the view inside.
“Miss Stewart.” He reached out his hand, and the lined skin beneath his eyes crinkled as though he was genuinely pleased to see me. I shook his hand briefly, then moved aside to introduce Sylvie.
“You’re the lady who wouldn’t open the envelope,” Clarkson said good-humoredly.
“You’re the gentleman who wouldn’t stop pestering me about it,” Sylvie returned. I laughed because they both nailed it. I had been in Italy when Clarkson first called to inform me that I was about to inherit the Lucazzone estate. Naturally, he didn’t disclose that information to Sylvie, but his secretary had sent a form letter, which Sylvie was too scared to open.
“It’s lovely to finally make your acquaintance,” Clarkson said. I could tell he was smitten with her by the way his eyes seemed to linger on her, taking in every detail of her designer-clad body. He seemed like a nice guy—genuine, well-mannered and, judging from the lack of a wedding ring or tan line on his finger, definitely not married. He was too old for her though, at least twenty years her senior, and that gave me peace because I wouldn’t want my best friend to date my lawyer.
“Thanks for inviting us,” I said, drawing his attention back to me. A flicker of disappointment appeared in his eyes and disappeared just as quickly.
“It was Mr. Lucazzone’s wish to meet his heir before—” He dies, I mentally filled in the blank. Clarkson cleared his throat. “Anyway, he’s still in hospital and cannot be with us for another day or two, until his tests are performed. But he’s instructed me to show you to your rooms and make your stay a pleasant one.”
Clarkson helped with the luggage as we followed him down the hall and up the stairs, past several closed doors into what looked like a large drawing room. He tried to maintain a light conversation, asking about our flight and drive over. I let Sylvie handle it as I took in the house.
Outside I had described it as beautiful, but the word did it no justice. It was magnificent and huge with cream marble floors, expensive paintings adorning the walls, and a huge staircase leading to the second and third floor balustrades. Suiting the Mediterranean style, several vases with flowers were set up in the corners, brightening up the minimalist look. It was my style: no clutter, everything neat and orderly, just the way I liked my life.
“This is the west wing. It’s all yours. You’ll find all rooms have a spectacular view of both the lake and the mountains behind,” Clarkson said, keeping up the small talk. “I’ll let you settle in. We can go over the financial reports in the next few days.”
“Sounds perfect.”
He nodded and his eyes twinkled again. I figured many people would have felt at least a pang of jealousy for my unexpected windfall, but not Clarkson. He seemed genuinely pleased for me.
“Absolutely,” he said. “All members of the staff will gather later this afternoon to introduce themselves. They come and go as they’re needed so you’ll have the house all to yourself until Mr. Lucazzone’s back. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. I’m staying in Bellagio, which is a stone’s throw away.”