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Not quite New York. It’s the other end of the spectrum, sure, but it is away from here. It’s exotic and new, and not to mention the position is amazing. It’s a no-brainer really. I’m stupid if I don’t do this. I roll my fingers on my desk as I go over my options.
Fuck it. I’m going.
* * *
May, one month later.
“Ciao.” I smile at the concierge over the counter.
I’m in the hotel where I’m staying for the next couple of weeks in Milan—The Chateau Monfort. I’m trying desperately to contain my over-the-top excitement. This place is already fabulous; I can just tell. The foyer has huge limestone arches and a marble concierge desk. The floor is an exotic tile. Don’t even start me on the artwork in here. Let’s just say, I can tell that I’m in Milan.
Over the last month I’ve been listening to my Italian tapes like a woman possessed. I really want to learn the language while I’m here and I am going to try to converse as much as I can in Italian.
“Vorrei fare il check-in, per favore. Mi chiamo Olivia Reynolds.” I smile proudly. Yes, that’s right. I speak Italian because I live in Milan and shit. I bite the side of my cheek to stop myself gushing about how cool I have suddenly become.
The man on the counter speaks. “Certo, signora! Ha prenotato online?”
Oh. Jeez, he said that fast. “Ah, può ripetere per favore?”
“Abbiamo aggiornato la sua prenotazione e abbiamo incluso un pachetto colazione,” he says way too fast.
My coolness was premature. “Do you speak English?” I ask.
“Yes, Madame.” He smiles, knowing full well he just knocked me down from my pedestal. “We have
you booked in for a period of six weeks.”
“Yes.”
He types something, and then reads the notes. “Oh, you are here for Valentino?”
“Yes.”
He continues to type. “What do you do for them?”
“I’m a textiles consultant.” I beam. That sounds so cool.
“Impressive. You are in room two-three-two on level two.” He slides my key over the counter. “We have upgraded you to also have a breakfast package. It’s served daily in the restaurant on level two from 6:00 a.m. You have full access to the swimming pool on level three with a gymnasium and a day spa. Concierge is twenty-four hours, and we will arrange all of your transfers for you if you call ahead. There is around-the-clock room service available with an extensive menu.”
I grin brightly. “That all sounds great. Can I please have a kettle, coffee, and tea supplies brought to my room?”
“Of course, I’ll order that now.” He types something into his computer. “Your luggage will be up shortly, and if there is anything you need, please dial nine.”
“Okay.”
“Enjoy your stay in Milan, Miss Reynolds.”
I bounce my shoulders. “Thanks.” I make my way up to level two and down the wide corridor until I get to my room. I walk in and my breath catches.
The room is huge, full of antique furnishings, chandeliers, and gorgeous artwork. Sheer white drapes cover the windows, and the view over the city is spectacular. There’s a circular table made from dark wood, and matching chairs with upholstered cream velvet cushions. There’s also a large couch in the same velvet, and the carpet is thick and lush. Holy shit, the bed. It’s round, king size, and has a white netting canopy over it.
What the heck? A king size round bed? Now I’ve officially seen it all. I look around in awe. This place is fucking amazing. It’s like a fairy tale.
There’s a knock on the door and I rush to open it. “Your kettle, coffee, and tea supplies.” The porter smiles.
“Yes, please, come in.” I open the door and watch on as he sets them up in the little kitchen area. “Will that be all?”
There’s another knock on the door.
