“He said that to Clarkson?”
Sylvie nodded. “I swear I was around the corner. They didn’t know I was listening.” She faked a shudder. “Seriously, old people give me the creeps. They’re so weird. My grandfather was like that. He was so paranoid of children, kept saying he could see them and hear their laughter when no one was around. I guess it comes with age.”
I grimaced. The poor guy. I could only hope Sylvie’s relatives were accepting of his quirks. But she was right. Paranoia was a scary disorder of the mind and not easy to deal with.
“So where’s Clarkson?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Don’t know. I guess still with him. What did you talk about?”
I pulled out the envelope and held it out to her so she could peek inside. “Nothing big really. We talked about his life and the conditions of my inheritance. He made me promise not to sell the estate. Actually, he was pretty specific about that. He doesn’t want me to alter it either. He also wanted to—” I saw Clarkson standing in the doorway to the backyard and dipped my head toward him, deciding now wasn’t the right time to talk “—I’ll show you later.” I sat up and waved at Clarkson to get his attention.
“It’s lovely here, isn’t it?” Clarkson said.
I nodded. “I’m glad Alessandro is taken care of in such a nice place.”
***
Clarkson explained he had some business to tend to. After a short talk we agreed that he’d be calling me with updates. Alessandro Lucazzone hoped to see me again in the next days and I was happy to oblige, not just as his heir but also as the last family member he had.
Anxious, I kept glancing at my watch. With every second that passed, I was moving closer and closer to 11.45 a.m. Jett and I had agreed to meet at noon and I couldn’t wait. My only problem now was getting rid of Sylvie. She wasn’t his biggest fan, so there was no way I could tell her about my lunch arrangement. If she found out, she’d only end up thinking I was still into him—which was true—and she’d try to talk me out of it. Not only did I promise Jett that I wouldn’t back off, but his over-protectiveness had managed to spark my interest. My sole intention was to listen to his reasons and clarify what exactly he thought put me in danger. Maybe even discover a way to heal my heart, like parting on good terms rather than in anger and pain. Only the truth can set the heart free. With knowledge I could move on, learn from my mistakes. If I was lucky, his sincere apology would be enough to make amends and help me move on. Although it wouldn’t stop the pain, I was sure it could heal some of my bruised ego.
By keeping our meeting short and to the point, there was no need for my best friend to know about it. I’d tell her eventually when I could deal with her angry outburst, but right now I sure wasn’t going to listen to her ranting for the next hour.
So how best to distract her? Three things always managed to help Sylvie forget the world around her: fashion, men, and parties.
Considering it was late morning, the clubs were closed and Sylvie had no date, taking her shopping was my best bet, even if she probably had more clothes than Carrie Bradshaw from Sex And The City. But could I convince her to go on a shopping spree without me?
Probably not.
Throughout the first years of our friendship, Sylvie had always joked about how clingy she was. Turned out, it wasn’t really that much of a joke. This left me with one other option: treat her to a spa visit.
Sixty minutes of sighing under the expert hands of a massage therapist should provide enough distraction so I could meet with Jett. I had another problem: Alessandro was stationed at a private hospital in a secluded area far away from the city center. According to Clarkson, the bus station was a half hour walk away.
“So what now?” Sylvie asked as we stepped out of the hospital. She sounded so bored already, and I hadn’t even shared my plan with her. I scanned the area. The residential street was almost empty. Apart from a busy café at the corner and some parked cars, there was nothing that could possibly be of interest to Sylvie or help my quest. Until my glance fell on a parked taxi on the other side of the road.
“Let’s drive back to the city,” I suggested, interloping my arm with hers so I could use bodily force to push her in the right direction, if need be.
She eyed me carefully. “Why? What’s there to see?”
“I want to treat you to a spa visit. I’ve heard nothing but amazing things about Italian spas, and I think you should try one. Come on.”
Dashing for the taxi before she could object, or the driver could decide to take off, I pulled her after me. Sylvie opened the door and we both slumped onto the backseat. I instructed the driver to take us to the hotel Jett booked me in during my first trip to Italy. As he drove off I sat back in my seat.
“New city, new scene, and you’re already forgetting Jett. My work’s almost done,” Sylvie said.
“Yeah.” I cringed inwardly at hearing his name. She couldn’t be farther from the truth. If only she knew. It was impossible to forget him, not least because he was here.
By taxi we reached the city in less than ten minutes. As it turned out the driver would have made a great sightseeing guide. Speaking half English and half Italian, he recalled everything he knew about Bellagio’s history and ancient buildings. It wasn’t exactly Rome, but I listened nonetheless and even Sylvie seemed fascinated. As we cruised down the busy main street, the driver pointed out the designer shops and even recommended the best places to get a bargain. Not that Sylvie needed to save cash. She had always been loaded—courtesy of her rich family whom she actually despised. But what woman is immune to the prospect of a mid-summer sale?
Eventually the taxi stopped on a bus lane. I paid quickly and we got out in front of the large sign advertising the spa hotel I had stayed at on my first trip to Bellagio.
“Not bad,” Sylvie said, looking up at the impressive building.