Massimo frowned. Was his soon-to-be father-in-law calling to praise the effectiveness of his public relations campaign publicizing their upcoming engagement, or was he calling to manage it? Either way, Massimo wasn’t interested in this conversation. He leaned back in his leather chair and ran a hand through his hair. He looked in the direction of the tall windows that opened for a view of Milan’s terra-cotta rooftops and green hills in the distance, but he wasn’t thinking about the view. Instead, the memory of Catarina’s lips on his cheek inexplicably resurrected inside him, followed by the bolt of desire that had pulsed through him, bringing his rational mind to a standstill. Massimo scowled, forcing that thought away.
“Put him through,” he grumbled, picking up the receiver of the phone.
“It’s Catarina.” Giuseppe d’Avalos’s usually controlled voice was urgent in Massimo’s ear. “She’s gone.”
Massimo’s entire body stilled, and his hand tightened around the phone.
“What do you mean,gone?” His voice was as cold as the icy dread that ran through him.
“Catarina did not appear at breakfast, and I found that my pilot had logged an entry for our family’s jet last night.”
Anger thundered through him. This was not acceptable. Yesterday evening he had spent an hour with his assistant going over the detailed plans of how best to position the release of their engagement. The speculation that had appeared in the morning papers was just the start. There were supper reservations this evening at the iconic Ristorante Emmanuel Rossellini, for example, where their first public appearance would certainly be noted. He had planned to present whatever ring his assistant had purchased to Catarina over dessert. Everything was not only in place, but also set in motion.
Scandal. The word blazed through him. Massimo had spent his entire adult years building up an empire so that he could avoid these kinds of disasters. Now everything he and his brother had worked so hard for could be destroyed in one fell swoop.
“Where did she go?” he asked, keeping his voice under tight control.
“Norway. Her mother had a place in the mountains outside of Tromsø, and she left it to Catarina.”
Norway. The flight would be a few hours. Massimo massaged his temple with his free hand. There was still hope of fixing this…situation.
“Have you spoken to her?” he bit out.
“There is a problem with that,” said her father cautiously. “Currently, the phones are out of service. The area is prone to strong weather, and this happens more often than not during the storms. I have spoken to the pilot, and I am waiting for the plane to return so someone can gather her up. Discreetly.”
The line was silent. Massimo glanced at the Patek Philippe watch ticking away on his wrist. It was just after noon. If he took his own jet, there was still just enough time to bring her back and make their eight o’clock dinner reservations, if he could maneuver through any delays.
Finally, he let out an irritated sigh. “I will go and bring her back myself.”
Of course, it would mean canceling all his afternoon meetings.Like your father used to do, whispered an insidious voice in the back of his mind.
He flinched, recalling his parents’ loud arguments during the intermission ofToscawith a flare and drama that had rivaled the action on the main stage. If the theatrics had stayed discreetly between the two of them, maybe his father could have clung on to his family’s name. But how many deals had fallen through because his father had canceled a key business meeting to join his wife on a last-minute reconciliation trip after one of the countless times she’d threatened to leave him due to his “neglect”? Of course, he and Alessandro had not missed the fact that neither of his parents had dropped anything when the brothers had gotten kicked out of school.
Massimo gritted his teeth as he tried Catarina’s phone number and was immediately directed to voice mail. This engagement was supposed to be a conduit for business, not a hindrance. He would handle Catarina the way he handled everyone else who got in the way of his plans: by making it clear that it was in her best interests to follow the paths he presented to her. Because he knew how to make sure that the people at his command did what he asked them to do. Massimo told himself that this was like any other business crisis he had handled in the past. He would deal with it swiftly and efficiently. And he absolutely would not lose his temper.
Massimo’s private jet was ready within the hour, and as the plane flew north, he contemplated his options. Her weakness seemed to be her father, and their marriage agreement was connected to the man’s business. He was debating the efficacy of taking a harsher approach with her when his phone rang, and his brother’s name appeared on his screen.
“I saw the newspapers this morning,” said Alessandro. “Not wasting time with your plans. Efficient as ever.”
“There’s been a complication,” he muttered. “My lovely bride-to-be appears to have fled to Norway.”
His brother’s laugh traveled through the phone, further grating on his nerves. “You always were a charmer.”
The jab irritated Massimo more than usual because of the reality it exposed. He had walked into the library of the d’Avalos estate fully intending to be charming, or at least his best version of it. Somehow, his plans had fallen apart the moment her voice sang through him. And when her lips had brushed against his cheek…
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he barked. “We’ll return in time for supper at Ristorante Emmanuel Rossellini, as planned.”
“I have no doubt,” said Alessandro, and Massimo could hear the smile in his brother’s voice, crawling farther under his skin. “But I can hear your scowl through the phone line. Maybe you want to work on that before you talk to the woman again.”
“I don’t need relationship advice from my younger brother,” he growled because he was, in fact, a minute older than Alessandro.
This comment only made his brother laugh even louder.
“By all means, use your own…expertise,” he said, and Massimo didn’t miss the sarcasm that his brother infused in that last word. “As long as this marriage boosts our family’s reputation, I don’t care how you make it work.”
“It will work,” he said with finality. “Just take care of anything that is burning this afternoon.”
When he ended the call, Massimo reminded himself that he loved his brother. He did, truly, in the same way he loved his grandmother. The two were the only relatives he associated with happy memories from his childhood. When his parents were too busy with their latest dramatic fallout or reunion to be bothered with two young boys, Massimo and Alessandro would spend weeks at their grandparents’ sprawling estate on Lake Como, climbing trees, staying out of their thunderous grandfather’s path and clinging to their grandmother, elegant, stern and loving. In those earliest memories, neither he nor Alessandro had thought their parents’ absences were strange, nor did they think twice about the tempestuous fights that echoed through the house when their parents occasionally graced them with their presence, not when their grandmother would appear with fresh vanilla cake and cold lemonade.
