“Are you hungry?” He veered through an archway into a kitchen of bright appliances and white tile that had an open pass-through to the dining nook, where six very comfortable chairs were arranged in a horseshoe so they all had views through the windows overlooking treetops and blurred mountains in the distance.
“You don’t have to feed me. I’m a picky eater.” She wandered into the enormous lounge area, admiring the fireplace, with its wide mantel, and the abundant light pouring through fan-shaped windows over paned French doors. He had some gorgeous artwork, including an abstract sculpture she immediately coveted.
She started to peer onto the terrace, but he said, “Wait.”
She looked back and saw him pointing a remote at her through the pass-through. There was a click and a hum. Three sets of bifold doors opened, letting in fresh air and very little city noise.
She stepped onto the terrace and realized it overlooked the courtyard with the pool below. Three sides of the building were residences with wrought-iron balconies covered in vines and riots of colorful blooms spilling from window boxes. Directly across, the courtyard was closed in by a wall of arched breezeways, likely installed for privacy and security while also allowing airflow during hot summer days.
Rocco’s terrace was partly in sun, partly protected by an overhanging roof. Bougainvillea climbed latticework to form a privacy wall next to a full, outdoor lounge. There was a dining area, then an outdoor kitchen at the far end, where herbs grew between pepper and tomato plants in raised boxes. Pots of roses and lavender released a subtle fragrance into the air. Music drifted from one of the lower units, a quiet accordion with a lazy tempo.
It was an oasis, one she suspected she would never leave if she had the choice.
“Why is your terrace so much bigger than everyone else’s?” she asked as he came outside with tray of salads, plates and cutlery. He set everything on the table.
“I own the building. The top floor was six units that I’ve combined into one. That’s why there’s a second kitchen out here. My bedroom is that whole wing.”
She glanced in the direction of his nod, but was hungry enough to be interested in the caprese salad he’d brought out. The other one was more suspect.
“Olives?” She crinkled her nose in rejection.
“With mint and celery leaves. Try it.”
Good luck, mister. She sat and helped herself to the tomato and cheese slices layered with basil leaves while he walked away and came back with two glasses and a bottle of red wine.
“You didn’t need to make all of this for me, but thank you,” she said politely.
“My housekeeper leaves it for me.” He poured the wine.
For a few minutes, they ate in silence, but it was strangely comfortable. How could it not be in this idyllic atmosphere?
“This is really nice,” she finally said, in reference to the terrace. “It’s obvious you spent a lot of time thinking about how to make this a space you want to come home to. I thought I would feel like this at the villa, but it needs a complete overhaul.”
“I can help with that.”
“I’ve already had a consult with your Salerno office. That’s how I got my appointment with you today,” she reminded him.
“I meant I can personally help you with design and decision making.”
And have his influence baked into every wall? “I’ll think about it.”
They fell into silence again. This time the quiet held more undercurrents.
“We have to be careful how much you tell me about the inner workings of Vorstoben. I don’t want to be accused of industrial espionage.”
“I supervised payroll. Salary and bonus structures won’t help you.”
“Still, there could be an unflattering perception unless… Has there been an announcement about your departure from Vorstoben?”
“It’s not a secret, but no one cares enough to turn it into a story.”
“What about your broken engagement?”
“I think Axel is being a gentleman and letting me make a statement when I’m ready.”
“Why haven’t you? Are you having second thoughts?”
“No. I’m relieved.”
