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She placed her wineglass on a coaster, walked to the shelf, and plucked the book from the row. The small, square book seemed innocuous enough. The Book of Spells. Hmm, no author noted. As she flipped through the worn, delicate pages, no witches’ smoke puffed out. The room didn’t shake, and no cold wind blew through the space.
Julietta settled back against the cushions. Strange, just one love spell made up the entire book: Make a list of all the qualities needed in a soul mate. That certainly didn’t promise marriage or happily ever after. Place a copy of the list under her mattress. Burn the original list in a fire. Chant something silly to the entity of earth Mother. Finito.
That’s it?
Julietta shook her head, and with a muttered curse, she grabbed the ledger pad she always left next to her laptop.
The dark ink bled on the stark white pages as she scribbled furiously, refusing to linger. No pondering or analyzing this time. Just an emotional dump she rarely allowed herself, a list of everything she always wanted in a mate and knew was impossible to achieve.
Julietta didn’t read it over. She folded both papers into four quarters and placed one under her mattress. Then she trudged to the kitchen. Whipped out a stainless steel bowl, grabbed a match from the drawer, and lit the paper.
The edges blackened and curled. She fanned her smoke detector and watched the list disappear. Her lips formed the silly chant to earth Mother, and her cheeks burned in humiliation at the act. She was going to kill her sister for making her an idiot, but at least she’d kept her vow. A few deep breaths and nothing was left in the bowl except for scattered ashes.
An odd sense of doom came over her. Her heart skit-tered. Why had she written such a list? She should’ve stuck to clear, cold qualities in a mate rather than the stark need pulsing from every word on that paper.
Didn’t matter. No one would know or suspect. And since earth Mother wasn’t talking, Julietta was safe.
She grabbed her phone, punched the power button, and hammered out her message.
It’s done. Now leave me alone.
A second passed. A smiley face popped up on the screen.
Thank goodness. Now she’d get back to her life and put the whole episode behind her.
Julietta ignored the emptiness that clenched her gut, and she pumped up the volume on the television to break the silence.
Chapter Two
Julietta adjusted the knot in her sage green scarf, smoothed down her skirt, and opened the gilded double doors. She walked to the receptionist’s desk, where a matronly woman took her name and told her to have a seat. Hmm, surprising.
She’d expected a young starlet in killer heels who rocked her boss’s world at lunchtime. Shame on her for assuming.
Perhaps Sawyer Wells would be a pleasant surprise.
She shrugged out of her lime green trench coat and settled her briefcase on the floor. The ringing of phones drifted in the air as she took in the lush corporate surroundings of Wells enterprises. The giant logo of a scripted W@e hung in polished brass on the front wall, and the reception area had comfortable leather chairs and royal blue carpet. The massive main desk was of glass and boasted a variety of high-tech equipment along with assorted drawers and com-partments for organization.
Julietta had done her homework, but it hadn’t given her much. A quick call placed to her brother-in-law Max informed her Sawyer was a friend of his, true to his word, with razor-sharp business skills. His name was well-known in the hotel industry where luxury hotels courted him to run their establishments for certain lengths of time. Sawyer stepped in, turned the businesses around, and gracefully removed himself without another word. His main head-quarters was housed in New york, but ten months ago a brand-new satellite office appeared in Milan. Uneasiness rumbled through the business industry as rumors exploded.
She bet even the famous Hotel Principe di Savoia kept a close eye on the man. His record was impeccable, and he possessed the golden touch to change a crumbling resort into a treasure trove.
The mysterious phone call had taken her completely off guard. Why would the biggest hotel connoisseur request a meeting with her at nine-thirty on a Monday morning?
She’d tried to gain further information, but a curt voice had informed her there would only be only one opportunity to meet with Sawyer, and he’d explain the terms of the meeting in person.
Julietta despised secrets and business cloaked in mys-tery. She had agreed to the meeting, but had immediately begun digging. Funny that such a powerful man who traveled the world bailing out expensive hotels seemed to have no past. Almost as if he’d been a ghost until his mid-twenties. The last decade showed his steady rise in power, and other than the gleeful press regarding his colorful love life, nothing else interested her. An endless line of women was expected when it came to rich businessmen. She couldn’t care less who he slept with or when. She only cared about what he wanted with her company. Unfortunately, Max had only advised her to take the meeting, vowing he knew nothing about his friend’s intentions.
“you may go in now, Ms. Conte.”
Julietta smiled and grabbed her Pineider briefcase. She was led down a short hallway to a heavily carved cherry-wood door. She reached for the knob, but the door swung open without a sound. A shiver raced down her spine, and she hesitated. odd—she felt that if she crossed the threshold, her life would never be the same. Almost like being invited into a haunted house by the owner, who craved your soul.
“Come in.”
The husky drawl whispered against her ears. She took the necessary three steps in. The door swung closed sound-lessly behind her.
Her hands clenched around her briefcase. What was wrong with her? Usually she dominated a meeting from the first moment, but she stood rooted to the floor staring across the room at one of the most powerfully sexual men she’d ever seen in her life.
No wonder his receptionist was a grandmotherly type.
There wasn’t a woman alive who could work for him without getting tongue-tied and stumbling over herself in an effort to please him. His inner sanctum was decorated in dark wood, wine reds, and rich gold trims. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves took up the wall behind him with endless leather spines amidst odd figures and sculptures in vari-ous materials. Smooth marble, gleaming silver, twisted copper. The left wall was painted red and displayed an assortment of art with an erotic flavor. She longed to study the artwork closer but tucked that information to the back of her mind for future reference. His sprawling cherry desk took up half the room in an effort to intimi-date. His chair must have been elevated for a dominating visual impression, because there was no way a man could be that tall. Perched on his red leather throne, he studied her with an assessing air that stripped her of niceties and social barriers, somehow leaving her bare. exposed. And a bit vulnerable.
