Francesca
“Can you measure the floor space for the ballroom now, please?” I ask my assistant as I scribble down the details of the last room we measured.
Mr. Carballo has kindly assigned me two assistants today, they are the hotel’s full-time handymen and today are measuring up a storm for me. I know the plans have the floor space on them, but I want to triple-check every last detail.
“Sure thing.”
“Miss Ferrara.” I hear a deep voice from behind me.
I turn, startled to see a man. “Yes, hello.”
He smiles warmly and puts his hand out to shake mine. “Dominic Russo.”
“Hi.” I smile, surprised, who is this handsome specimen?
He smiles, knowing full well how good looking he is. He would be in his early thirties and has dark hair with a curl to it. Big blue eyes and well built.
“My dear Francesca,” a deep voice says, I turn to see Mr. Carballo as he walks in. “Hello, Mr. Carballo.”
He holds his hand out to the man. “May I present my operations manager; this is Dominic Russo. Dominic, this is Francesca Ferrara, our head designer from Paris.”
“Hello. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” he replies, his eyes hold mine for a beat longer than they should.
Hmm….
“I wanted you two to meet, Dominic will be handling most things from here, Francesca,” Mr. Carballo says.
“Oh, okay.” I smile, surprised.
“He’s the CEO of our hotel chain, and you will be working closely with him.”
“Great.” I fake a smile. Shit…do I tell him now or later that I can’t come back to Rome often?
“So, I’ll leave you to it.” Mr. Carballo smiles between the two of us. “Dominic has been briefed on everything, and after our day together yesterday, Francesca, I have full faith in your design and concepts.”
“Thank you.” A thought crosses my mind, “Are your offices here, Mr. Carballo?”
“No, not on premises, but I stay upstairs in the penthouse often, I haven’t left here for a few days now.”
“Oh.” I smile, I love that he’s hard working.
“Goodbye,” he says as he heads toward the doors.
“Bye.”
I look back down at my sketchpad, an awkward silence falls between Dominic and me, maybe it’s just because he is good looking and he knows that I know it.
“Will you be relocating to Rome for the duration of this job?” he asks.
Shit.
“No, unfortunately I can’t relocate.” I try to think of an excuse. “I have a few jobs going at the moment.” I don’t want him to think I never come to Italy. “And I’m in Milan a lot.”
“That’s perfect.”
“What is?”
“I’m based in Milan, we could catch up there.”
“Really?” I smile, oh my God, that’s so much easier. I could stay at my apartment and run the job from there. “That would be perfect.”
“So?” He throws his hands up as if happy. “That suits me too, then I don’t have to travel to Rome for our meetings. We can measure up or whatever you need today and then pick up next week in Milan.”
“Great.” I smile, thank God. Problem solved. Giuliano won’t have to worry about me now.
My car pulls onto the tarmac to see two other black cars waiting at the plane.
Is he here?
Giuliano gets out of the back seat and leans against his car as he waits for me and my stomach does a little flip.
He came.
He’s wearing a dark gray suit, his dark hair is a little messed, his chiseled jaw accentuating his beautiful face. Tall, dark and forbidden.
There’s no denying it, Giuliano Ferrara is a breathtakingly handsome man.
My car comes to a stop and Giuliano goes to open my door and my heart somersaults in my chest.
I’ve thought about him all day.
“Hello,” he says in his deep voice.
“Hi.” I smile softly up at him, he takes my hand and helps me out of the car.
“How was your day?” he asks.
“Good.” I smile bashfully, he makes me giddy. “How was yours?”
His big brown eyes hold mine. “Good.”
The sound of the airplane engine is loud, and men are standing at a distance around us, but with the wind whipping my hair around, I can only see him.
We stare at each other, and the air between us is filled with unsaid words.
There’s so much to say and I know that none of it should ever hear the light of day. “I’ll call you when I get there,” I ask hopefully.
“Don’t.”
My eyes search his and I swallow the lump in my throat. I want to talk about him asking me not to marry Marcel. “About what you said….”
“Forget it.”
My face falls.
We stare at each other. “It doesn’t matter anyway…does it?” he says softly.
I get a lump in my throat.
This is goodbye.
“It was really good to see you again, Jules. I’ve missed you.”
He gives me a sad smile and nods.
“Thank you for coming to look after me.” I lean up and hug him. “I really appreciate it.”
He stands emotionless, his hands down by his sides.
“Hug me,” I whisper in his ear. “Please.”
He puts his arms around me and we hug, clinging to each other tightly.
He’s so strong and tall in my arms and damn it, I don’t want to let him go.
Not again.
He pulls out of my grip and steps back from me. “You need to get going.”
I smile, embarrassed that I act the way I do around him. “Goodbye.” I turn and walk toward my plane and up the stairs.
“Good afternoon, Miss Ferrara,” the captain says.
“Good afternoon.” I force a smile.
“Just this way.” The stewardess smiles. I follow her in and take a seat by the window.
I look out at the black Mercedes wagon and I know he’s in the back seat.
And I want to run to him and beg him to take me back to a time when we could be in love.
But I can’t…because he can’t.
The stewardess closes the airplane door and the sound of the airtight seal brings tears to my eyes.
It’s so final.
The plane begins to drive slowly down the runway and I wipe the tears from my eyes.
Goodbye, my love.
Again.
I ring the doorbell.
It’s been four hours since I left Giuliano.
But I know what I must do.
I know that we can never be together and I understand that this problem will never be fixed.
But in this lifetime, I want to feel an all-consuming love for my husband…and unfortunately, I just don’t have that with Marcel.
I wish that I did.
Being away from him this last few days has only cemented my fears into a reality.
I didn’t miss him.
Not at all.
I missed Giuliano…when he was sleeping just downstairs.
I silently wept the whole way to France because with every minute in that plane, I was farther away from him.
This isn’t right and I need to let Marcel go so that he can find someone who loves him as much as he deserves to be loved.
My grand love story didn’t work out, but I want Marcel’s to. I want him to be happy.
I would rather be single for the rest of my life than be forced to live a lie.
I can’t do it anymore.