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Gia’s things. They’d totally slipped his mind. He was about to turn the man away, but he had no idea where Gia had gone. It looked like the luggage was his problem.
“Thanks. You can set them inside the door.” Ric backed up, making room for the man and the three pieces of matching luggage.
After Ric tipped the man handsomely, the door shut and he was alone with Gia’s things. He rubbed the back of his neck. What was it about this woman? Since she’d entered his life mere hours ago, it had become increasingly complicated.
What he needed to do was head back to the office. When he was at his computer working on his latest project, he felt in control—at peace. Adrenaline rushed through his veins when he was sorting out a new idea. And all his attention was focused on the letters and numbers on his monitor. There were no emotional land mines to avoid. There were facts and figures. Nothing more. Work was clean and for the most part straightforward. Relationships were messy and complicated.
Even when people said they loved you, they ended up hurting you. Not that he loved Gia. He didn’t even know her. And that was the whole point—he didn?
?t want to get to know her, to let her into his world. He was better off on his own.
And with that in mind, he reached for his phone. He flipped the leather tag on a piece of luggage and snapped a photo of her name and address. His assistant was good at locating people as well as things. He was certain Marta would be able to reunite Ms. Bartolini with her luggage.
As though his thoughts had summoned her, his phone rang. His assistant’s name popped up on the caller ID. She was probably wondering what was keeping him.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Moretti, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’ve just had a phone call I thought you would want to know about immediately.”
Marta was very good at her job and dealing with people. She was used to prioritizing interruptions and only bothering him with the most important items. He had a sinking feeling he wasn’t going to like what she had to say.
“What is it?” he asked hesitantly.
“Your dinner meeting with Mr. Grosso has been canceled.”
“Canceled?” That couldn’t be right. “You mean rescheduled.”
“No, sir. His assistant called and canceled the meeting.”
Ric’s body tensed. This wasn’t good—not good at all. He had his entire rollout planned. He was ready to start testing on Mr. Grosso’s system.
“What did he say?” Ric’s voice came out in a heated rush. “There has to be a reason. I want to know what it is.”
Marta was quiet for a moment.
He drew in a deep breath, calming himself. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take this out on you. I just can’t believe after months of going back and forth, trying to arrange this meeting that it has fallen through.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I know how much you were counting on this.”
“Did they give any hints of what went wrong?”
“The assistant said that Mr. Grosso had looked over the proposal and decided there wasn’t enough evidence the program works.”
Ric muttered under his breath as he raked his fingers through his hair. “Of course it works. I’ve been perfecting it for the past year.”
He wanted to say that if this man wasn’t interested, he would just sell his technology to someone else, but there was no one else with pockets as deep as Grosso Global Transports. And he’d written the algorithm with that company and its needs in mind.
“What shall I do, sir?”
He wished he had a quick answer. He wanted to say to call them back—to insist on the meeting—but he knew that wouldn’t work. Mr. Grosso was a recluse. The fact he’d been granted the meeting in the first place had been a miracle. But Ric wasn’t giving up. He just needed a moment to regroup.
“I’ll let you know.” And with that they concluded their call.
He’d totally lost his appetite now. He headed out the door and straight to his car. He jumped in, fired up the engine and set off toward the office. Soon his fingers would be moving over the keyboard, and then the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders would loosen. His pounding headache would subside and he’d be able to think of a plan B.
He pulled to a stop at the next intersection. As he waited his turn to proceed, he glanced around, taking in the busy storefronts to his right. He’d moved back to the island of Lapri close to four years ago. In all that time, he’d not so much as strolled down the sidewalk. Even though most people walked or rode a moped, he always drove, no matter where he went.
Time was money. And money was power. He didn’t have time to waste. He had a life plan—to be the best of the best.
