"You think tourists would come somewhere this remote?"
"Are you serious? Americans pay thousands to fight crowds in Tuscany for experiences we could offer here with complete authenticity and privacy. The remoteness isn't a problem—it's the point."
Privacy. She keeps pushing privacy like it's a selling point, not realizing she just identified exactly what makes this useful to me.
Legitimate tourism means strangers coming and going becomes normal instead of suspicious. Money changing hands has obvious explanations. And the infrastructure she wants, better communications, transportation, lodging would help my actual business plenty.
"Show me more."
She takes me through the upper village, excited like a kid with a new toy. Points out houses for vacation rentals—perfect safe houses. Gardens for outdoor dining—ideal for meetings that need to look social. Photo spots—good surveillance positions.
She's designing infrastructure improvements I've been thinking about for years, wrapped up in a tourism plan that would never attract the wrong kind of attention.
"The key is authentic experiences," she explains as we head toward my place. "Not fake attractions, but realparticipation in village life. Cooking with families, learning crafts, seasonal festivals."
Real participation. Where village life includes activities that require careful management and people who keep their mouths shut.
"And the villagers would be okay with strangers in their business?"
"Most seem excited. There'd be some resistance to change, but economic benefits should win out."
Of course, they seem excited once she tells them I’m involved. They’re scared to tell me anything I don't want to hear. But she reads their fear as enthusiasm for her vision.
"There's one more location I want your take on," I say as we get near my property.
"Oh?"
"My villa. You mentioned exclusive accommodations."
She stops and stares at me. "You'd open your home to tourists?"
"Maybe. Small guest house. Very select clientele. Very private."
The idea hit me while listening to her pitch. Having her live on my property, managing "tourist accommodations," solves a bunch of problems. I can watch what she's doing, control what she knows, keep the business partnership story going while having her exactly where I want her.
"That could be perfect," she says, and I can see her brain working through possibilities she'll never get to implement. "Luxury accommodation, personalized service, gourmet meals, wine tastings, private tours..."
"What would I do in this setup?"
"You'd be the host. The local expert providing insider access."
She wants to turn me from the guy who runs this territory through fear into a charming tour guide telling stories about local history.
Perfect. I’d rather put a bullet through my own head.
"And you?"
"Marketing, guest relations, activity coordination. Making sure everything runs smoothly and visitors have great experiences."
She's describing a job that gives her access to my house, my schedule, my routines—while thinking she's negotiating like an equal instead of accepting terms of captivity.
"What about your debt?"
"Revenue sharing. Percentage of profits applied to debt reduction until it's paid off."
"How long you figure that takes?"
She pulls out her phone, starts calculating like I'm actually planning to let her pay this off and leave.
