Of course, it never occurred to Antonio Valaperti that an outsider, an American, might have greater access to Italy’s corridors of power than he had. Especially not this pretty little slip of a girl young enough to be his daughter. Deaf, too, God bless her. Americans really did have some very strange ideas about how to run a business.
“Would that I could, Antonio. Would that I could.” Every head in the restaurant of the Hotel Hassler swiveled to watch Lexi as she stood up to leave. “But I’m afraid I have pressing business in Florence tomorrow morning. I must get an early night. Good night.”
Antonio Valaperti watched her leave, biting back his irritation.
Little tease. She thinks she’s played me. He signaled to the waiter to bring him the check. When you find out how much that land is really worth, sweetheart, you’ll see who’s played whom.
Then you’ll know what it feels like to get fucked in the ass by Antonio Valaperti.
At ten o’clock the next morning, Lexi checked in to the Villa San Michele, an idyllic former monastery turned luxury hotel perched high in the Florentine hills.
I love Italy, she thought as she stepped out of her traveling clothes and into the marble-tiled shower. She’d chosen the San Michele because its high walls made it impossible for the paparazzi to disturb her there. For once in her life, Lexi felt in need of a break from all the attention and this was the perfect place to get it. Robbie had told her that Italy was astonishingly beautiful. But not even his elaborate praise had done it justice. Rome was so spectacular Lexi found she was catching her breath at every turn in the road. It was like stepping back in time. But if the Villa San Michele was anything to go by, she had a suspicion she was going to enjoy Tuscany even more.
Her triumph over Valaperti was all the sweeter because August Sandford had been so sure she would fail. Lexi herself had had her doubts. She found lip-reading much harder with foreigners, who formed English words differently, and had even considered traveling to Italy with an interpreter.
Thank God I didn’t. All those cozy dinners-à-deux with Valaperti were what clinched us the deal.
Over the past year, Lexi’s relationship with August had thawed, somewhat. She still thought he was arrogant and sexist. He still resented her for being Kate Blackwell’s great-granddaughter. But each of them had developed a grudging respect for the other’s business skills. August was flying in to Florence that night, and for once Lexi was looking forward to having dinner with him.
Maybe now he’ll admit I might actually make a good chairman. That I’m as capable of running Kruger-Brent as he is.
The restaurant at the Villa San Michele spilled out onto a medieval terrace covered with thick vines. From her table, Lexi could see the formal monastery gardens with their box hedges and gravel paths. Beyond the gardens lay the distinctive terra-cotta rooftops of Florence, spread out like a blanket in the warm, rosemary-scented evening air.
It’s so romantic! How much nicer it would be to be having dinner with a lover here, instead of my boss.
Lexi felt a tap on her shoulder and spun around. The smile of contentment dissolved on her face.
“What are you doing here? Where’s August?”
“In Taiwan, I believe. Something came up. Have you ordered yet? I’m famished.”
Max sat down and snapped his fingers imperiously for the waiter. Without looking at the menu, he rattled off his order in flawless Italian. He was speaking too fast for Lexi to make out much of what he said. But she did notice he’d asked for a two-hundred-dollar bottle of Antinori red wine, and that he’d taken it upon himself to choose food for her, too.
Her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here, Max?”
“We’re thinking of buying an online recruitment company.” His tone was casual. “Starfish. It’s like a European version of Monster.com. They’re based out of Florence, believe it or not.”
Lexi didn’t believe it. He’s up to something.
Although they lived in the same city and even worked in the same building, it had actually been months since Lexi had seen Max. She traveled constantly. On the rare occasions when she was at Kruger-Brent, she didn’t exactly seek out his company. Tonight he was wearing a blue open-necked shirt and black Armani suit pants. He smelled very faintly of an old-fashioned, lemon-ish cologne, and his naturally olive skin was more deeply tanned than usual. She’d forgotten how attractive he was and found herself irritated by it.
“How did it go in Rome? I gather Valaperti is a tough cantuccini.”
Part of Lexi would have liked to ignore him. But the urge to boast was too strong.
“It went great. Valaperti was putty in my hands.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. I sold him that land for over a hundred million dollars.”
Leaning in closer, Max signed: “Did he try to sleep with you?”
Lexi looked amazed.
“When did you learn to sign?”
Max shrugged. “I only know a few phrases, but I’m working on it. I figured, you know, we’re going to be working together for a while, so I should probably make the effort.”
He seems genuine. But why is he being so nice and reasonable all of a sudden?
“So did he?”
“What?”
“Try to sleep with you?”
“No! Well, kind of. Maybe a little bit.” Lexi found she was smiling despite herself. “Our friend Antonio evidently thinks of himself as quite the catch.”
“How old is he?”
“Sixty-five? Seventy maybe?”
“Dirty old goat.”