‘Of course, Signor Rossi,’ the receptionist said.
Rico took a deep breath and summoned a smile. From what Gabriella had told him, Mr Banks sounded like the kind of guest who’d complain if he couldn’t find something to complain about. But, all the same, he was a guest and deserved courtesy and attention. Hopefully Rico would be able to sort out all the misunderstandings—and then Ella would be waiting for him.
Ella sat in the back of the taxi, barely paying any attention to her surroundings as the driver took her through the outskirts of Rome and onto the motorway towards the airport.
Why had he lied to her? That was what she didn’t understand. Why had he pretended to be somebody else? Was he so rich, spoiled and bored that he got his kicks from making a fool out of people?
What an idiot she’d been, letting herself fall for every word he’d said. Accepting everything at face value. She really ought to have known better. The man she’d spent three days with—the man she’d let into her bed and started to let into her heart—just didn’t exist. Rico the tour guide was a complete fabrication. Rico the CEO was a complete stranger; she knew nothing of his true self.
As for that coin she’d thrown into the Trevi Fountain—well, she had no intention of ever coming back to Rome.
Finally, Rico left Mr Banks smiling and satisfied. The man had to be the most difficult guest he’d ever encountered—the room was too small, the towels were the wrong size and hadn’t been laundered, the pillows were too flat, the bed was too hard, the air-conditioning didn’t suit him, and as for the city tax that tourists had to pay on top of an already extortionate hotel bill …
Rico had listened, empathised and made suggestions. And he’d upgraded the man’s room, even though he suspected that Mr Banks was the kind of customer who booked the cheapest room in every hotel he stayed at and then complained until he was upgraded to the best suite. He’d gently explained that anyone staying in Rome had to pay the city tax, and Mr Banks’ travel agent should have told him when he booked that several other cities in Italy, including Venice and Florence, levied the same tax on visitors. And he’d also very politely pointed out the notice in the bathroom asking guests to help the hotel be more environment-friendly by leaving the towels that needed laundering in the bathtub and putting the ones they didn’t mind re-using on the towel rack. If Mr Banks wanted all his towels laundered every day, that was fine.
He took a deep breath. At least now he could see Ella.
Except she wasn’t waiting for him in the lounge next door to the hotel reception, as he’d expected. Maybe she’d missed the message and was waiting for him in her room, he thought, and rang her room. Again, there was no answer.
He frowned and went over to the reception desk. ‘Gaby, did you manage to get hold of Signora Chandler?’
‘Ah, Signor Rossi. I’m afraid not. She’d already checked out and left.’
What? He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Why had Ella gone without a single word to him?
‘Maria booked a taxi for her.’ Gabriella gestured to the other receptionist.
‘A taxi?’
‘To the airport.’
‘Right.’ He could see that Maria was busy with a guest. ‘Can you ask her to come to my office for a quick word when she’s free?’
‘Of course, Signor Rossi.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, keeping a lid on the hurt and anger that threatened to bubble over, and headed for his office.
‘Rico? I thought you were taking three days off?’ Lina said when he walked through the door.
‘I changed my mind.’ Warning her silently not to ask, he closed his office door behind him.
Ten minutes later, there was a rap on the door. ‘Signor Rossi? Gaby said you wanted a word.’ Maria looked worried.
‘Come and sit down,’ he said, forcing himself to give her a reassuring smile. It wasn’t her fault that Ella had left without even saying goodbye. ‘I believe you booked a taxi for Signora Chandler?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did she leave a message for me?’
‘No.’ Maria frowned. ‘Is something wrong?’
Yes. But how could he explain it without making himself look a fool? ‘She’s a friend of the family,’ he fibbed. ‘I was going to give her a lift to the airport this morning, but then …’
Maria rolled her eyes. ‘Signor Banks.’
He should’ve reminded her that they should always be ultra-polite about a guest, however difficult, but he understood exactly what she meant. ‘Gaby was going to give Signora Chandler the message that I’d been delayed, but she’d already left before Gaby could find her.’
‘But Signora Chandler pointed you out in the lobby and asked me who you were. I told her.’ Maria frowned. ‘If you were giving her a lift to the airport, why didn’t she know who you were?’
Oh, great. Now he was tangled in a real web of lies. His own fault, for not being honest in the first place. All he could do was bluff it out. ‘Nonna knows her grandparents. We don’t really know each other.’ That last bit at least was true. He’d thought he knew Ella—but how wrong he’d been. ‘I guess she saw I was busy and thought I might not be able to get her to the airport in time.’ He smiled at Maria. ‘I just wondered if she’d left me a message. But no matter. Thanks for clearing that up for me.’
‘Prego.’ Maria smiled back and left his office.
Rico leaned back in his chair. Maria had told Ella who he really was—and Ella had obviously realised that he’d lied to her. But it had been a white lie. He hadn’t done it to hurt her, and she’d completely overreacted to the situation.
Perhaps it was just as well that she’d gone and they’d never have to see each other again. He could go back to his normal life. No more strange feelings that something was missing. What he’d shared with her had been good sex and nothing more. A holiday fling. He’d obviously spent too long in the sun—and that crazy idea of trying to make things work between London and Rome was just that. A crazy idea. Ella Chandler was nothing special. He didn’t need her, he didn’t want her, and he was perfectly happy with his life as it was.
FOR the next three weeks, Ella was busy—more than busy. She spent her time working her way through all the local cafés and sandwich businesses to see if they wanted to stock her cupcakes, talking to managers at function rooms and taking samples of her cakes to see if they’d put her on their recommended supplier lists for celebration cake bakers, planning the launch party for Ella’s Cakes, and making sure that all the invitations were sent out on time.
When she crawled into bed at night, she should’ve slept like the dead. Except she couldn’t get Rico out of her head. Which made her even crosser with herself. Why was she thinking about a man who’d lied to her? Especially as she couldn’t see a single reason for him to need to lie.
Yet still she dreamed of him. Every single night. And it was driving her crazy.
Rico couldn’t get Ella out of his head. He kept telling himself that it was because she was the one who’d ended it and that usually he was the one who called it quits; it was just hurt pride making him feel that way. She wasn’t anything special. He was being an idiot.
And yet he found himself brooding. He didn’t even sit on his rooftop terrace any more, watching the sun go down and the lights of Rome bloom in the darkness—because all he could see was Ella and the delight on her face