Patrick leaves to resize my ring and promises it will be delivered the next day. After that, Rafe disappears to dowhatever the King of Luxury does in his office, and I spend the rest of the day exploring more of the villa I’m meant to call home this summer.
I was annoyed at that, at first.
His insistence that we had to come here because of his schedule, when I wanted to be at Mather & Wilde, overseeing the changes happening. Even if I realize that the best place for me to be is right beside him so I can pester him day and night about how to make my family’s company a roaring success again.
But now, standing in the Italian gardens and looking up at Villa Egeria, it’s very easy to bury that annoyance.
Villa Egeria might have an unassuming front side, but that’s only because that was actually the back. The front of this place is the one that faces the lake. Everything in this place, it seems, focuses on facing the lake—on the spilled silver between tall mountains this place orients itself around.
The villa is tall and broad, with whitewashed lime walls and elegant window shutters. It’s not sprawling in the modern kind of way. It’s neat. It’s elegant. It’s built with a keen eye for utilizing the space and land it’s on.
The housekeeper, Antonella, tells me its story. She’s a smiling, efficient woman in her late forties who moves fast and likes to chat. She tells me the villa was built in the mid-1850s by a Milanese business owner. He made his fortune in silk, bought this outcropping of land, and started to build the villa as a summer resort while his wife was still alive.
But he continued even after she passed and named the place Villa Egeria in her honor. Antonella tells me about Egeria, and I search the internet for the rest.
Apparently Egeria was a Roman water nymph who bestowed her wisdom to one of Rome’s early mythological kings. Since then, her name has come to signify a female adviser and counselor.
She has her own fountain in the gardens. She stands at itscenter, a life-sized marble statue, holding an urn of water. Marble fabric is half-draped over her body.
I look at her, silhouetted by tall cypress trees, and the glittering lake behind her. “You gave good advice?” I ask her. “Do you have any for me?”
She remains silent, only the bubbling of the water responding. I brush my hand through the cool fountain and keep walking across the crunchy gravel.
Past the fountain is a wrought iron fence, and below it, the second story of the gardens—manicured hedges in formal rows.
And heownsthis place.
It’s staggering when I think about it, and suddenly the hatred I have for this man sharpens into a bright pinpoint of jealousy. How could someone who has access to this, who could spend his entire day sitting in these gardens overlooking the lake and the mountains, ever want anything more?
How could he want my family’s company?
How could he want me when he hasthis?
If I had this,I think, and walk the stairs down to the next level of gardens,I would never want anything else. I’d give it all up if I could spend the rest of my days lying here next to the glittering pool or the lake.
There’s even a tennis court.
I find it at the bottom of the property, half hidden behind the tall cypresses. It’s red clay, the surface I’ve placed most on in my life. It allows for unpredictability and power, with slow balls and high bounce.
It’s been a long time since I played. That time of my life feels like a hazy memory, of fun and laughter and speed. Of my parents.
I look at the court for a while before I keep walking. At the very edge of the gardens is a stone pier that extends out into the blue lake.
Worn stone steps are slightly concave from the many pairs of feet that have walked them over the decades. At the very edge of the pier is a stone lion with a mooring ring through its mouth.
Beside it lies a boat.
It’s beautiful. Deep-brown wood, with an Italian flag at the back. It looks like the boats I’ve seen celebrities photographed in at the Venice Film Festival.
This place is all his. Serene, calm, beautiful.
It’s a stark contrast from the emotional turmoil inside me. Soon, the world will know that Valmont has acquired my family company. With the time difference, it will be everywhere when I wake up.
People will know what I’ve done.
That Mather & Wilde lost its independence, and I became Rafe’s wife. But they’ll also know that Ben Wilde is out officially. That change is on the horizon.
I’m just going to have to show them all that it was worth it.
