Dreaming Of... Italy: Daring to Trust the Boss / Reunited with Her Italian Ex / The Forbidden Prince. SUSAN MEIER
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“I don’t want to be famous. I want to paint...and eat.” He laughed nervously.
Constanzo frowned. “Don’t you want people to enjoy what you’ve done?”
“Yes.”
Like a father, Constanzo softly said, “Then this is all good.”
Vivi said, “You’ll be fine. You’ll simply have to figure out how to strike a balance between fame and a private life. Lots of people do it.”
“Thanks.”
They spent another hour looking at the paintings and talking with Antonio. Before they left, Patrice gave him her card and told him to be at her office the following day to sign papers. Constanzo explained that because he was footing the bill for the showing, Antonio would get every cent paid for any of his paintings, minus the commission for Patrice’s gallery. But there was still a need for a formal agreement.
As a precaution, Tucker had Patrice email the agreements for him to peruse that night. They arrived in his in-box right at dinnertime, but Tucker told Constanzo he wasn’t hungry anyway. He stayed in his room all night, and Vivi was sure he thought her so much of a ninny he didn’t even want to be in the same room if possible.
But he came to breakfast the next morning and seated himself. “You’ve given your son quite a good deal.”
Constanzo laughed. “Of course, I have.”
Vivi relaxed. “So, we’re paving the way for you to tell your son who you are.”
“I don’t think we’re quite ready for that yet.”
Her gaze shot up and over to Tucker. But Constanzo laughed. “You’ve switched sides.” He pointed at Vivi. “First you wanted to hold back and he wanted to tell.” He faced Tucker. “Now you want to hold back and she wants to tell.”
“Whatever Olivia wants is fine.”
She quickly looked away. “Since we started off slowly maybe we should continue to move slowly.” But when she risked a peek at Tucker a few minutes later, he was still watching her, studying her.
After breakfast they took the limo to retrieve Antonio then drove along twisting country roads to Bordighera. Cobblestone streets and walkways took them to Patrice’s villa gallery. As they drove, Constanzo pointed out the villa of a British royal, the sites Monet had painted and the homes of two novelists.
When they stepped out of the limo, the June sun washed them in warmth. The sound of the surf caused Vivi to turn and see the ocean.
“It’s beautiful.”
Antonio said, “Now you can see why I decided to stay.”
She laughed and nodded, as Patrice opened the front door of her villa and welcomed them inside.
Vivi glanced around in awe. Rich red Oriental rugs accented the white marble beneath them. White drapes billowed to the floor. Chandeliers were everywhere. Eight or ten paintings hung on each wall. Antique tables held small sculptures and blown glass.
“I can’t imagine living here.”
“I don’t,” Patrice said, leading them to a stairway and her office. “Well, technically, I do since I have an apartment on the third floor. But I always thought this villa too beautiful to keep to myself.” She smiled at Vivi. “I made it a gallery so I can share it.”
They signed the agreements in Patrice’s office—a warm, welcoming space, different than the formal rooms of the gallery. Right from the beginning, working for Tucker Engle had been eye-opening, and coming to Italy would probably top her list of favorite things she had done in her lifetime. But standing in a gallery, surrounded by paintings and sculptures, blown glass and jewelry so perfect it had to be displayed as art, was surreal.
Oddly, she felt she belonged here. As if she had come home.
Antonio, Constanzo and Patrice shook hands. Patrice made arrangements to go to Antonio’s house the next day to begin selecting paintings. Constanzo suggested dinner at his home to celebrate and though Patrice declined, Antonio happily accepted.
They played pool. Ate dinner outside. Drank Scotch.
And the whole time Tucker watched her.
It made an otherwise enjoyable evening nerve-racking. As early as politely possible, she excused herself and headed for her room. She showered and almost slid into her pajamas but it was still too early to sleep. Knowing the men would spend hours playing games in the den, she put on jeans and a T-shirt and headed for the pool.
This time she saw Tucker standing by the sparkling water before she turned the doorknob to go outside. Boldness surged through her. He’d badgered her until she’d told him about Cord. He’d held her feet to the fire, forcing her to take charge of the Antonio project since they were using her idea. And he’d kissed her.
Then today he’d stared at her all day as if she were some sort of bug under a microscope.
Half of her wanted to go out and brag. Her idea might not have seemed like a good one to him, but he had trusted her with it and it was working. Her idea was working. She was not going to fail.
The other half wanted to go out and...well, brag too. But in a sharing way. She wanted to say, “Look what we’re doing! Look what we’re accomplishing! We’re bringing together a lonely dad and his son. Even though we don’t seem like we belong together, we are a good team.”
But that was actually the point. If she went out there and they celebrated their success, weren’t they tempting fate?
He might like her but he didn’t want to. Hell, he wasn’t even really sure he wanted her as an assistant. Forget about anything else. And she knew the dangers of getting too close to someone so far out of her league.
She took one last longing look at him, standing by the pool, looking as if he might be waiting for her—
She turned and went back to her room.
THE NEXT DAY they returned to Antonio’s with Patrice. As he had the day before, Tucker watched Vivi happily help Antonio as he worked with Patrice, an odd feeling in his gut. When he looked at her and Antonio, he saw a couple. When he thought of himself and Olivia together, he saw a disaster.
So why—two days later—did the memory of her breathy request to call her Olivia still fill him with a yearning so primal, so hot, that he wanted to do more than kiss her?
He had no idea. But sharp need pressed in on him. Something about her appealed to him on an elemental level he’d never experienced before. And maybe it was time he stopped denying it?
Patrice began examining paintings, setting two side by side, and a minute later sending one to a group on the right and the other to a group on the left. A process that Tucker would have thought would take days seemed to be taking minutes.
Finally, she sighed. “Here’s the deal. I like them all. I can put almost half of these in the downstairs of my gallery, but if I open the second floor I could double that number.”
Though Tucker thought that was wonderful news, anxiety flitted through Antonio’s eyes.
Constanzo apparently didn’t notice. His face beamed with pride. “And we will invite everybody. I have ordered my personal assistant to begin a list. I’ll have a thousand people at that showing.”
This time Antonio looked like he would faint. Olivia caught his arm. “Hey, this is your showing. If you don’t want a thousand people, just tell us what you do want.”
Tucker frowned. Interesting that she wasn’t nervous around Antonio. Only around him. No. Strike that. She wasn’t nervous around him either. Except when they were close. Or getting personal. Then she got antsy.