A few days later, I was rolling my carry-on suitcase to my office, ready to board a flight and head to Italy with Scott.
We were going to do an in-person check on the Delilah Estate in Tuscany, and we’d be accompanied by the Executive Manager of Imperial Findings—the company responsible for sourcing the luxury materials used inside most of our hotels.
The Executive Manager was Calvin Walters, and while I’d never met him before in person, we’d exchanged enough emails over the past few months for me to get to know him. I could tell he was smart and quite charming.
“There you are,” Scott said from behind my desk as I rolled my suitcase to a halt. He was seated in my chair.
I checked my watch. “It’s not even seven yet—I’m early. Where’s your stuff? And what are you doing in my—?”
“I can’t come on the trip. You’ll be taking this trip alone, being my eyes and ears.”
“What do you mean you can’t come? This is the final check-in before all the orders are placed and before we make the final hires for the supplemental jobs!”
Scott eyed me. “Who do you think you’re reminding here?”
That was when I noticed the scruff on his usually clean-shaven cheeks and the redness of his eyes. “Sorry,” I said. “Is everything okay?” I pushed my suitcase to the wall and took a seat in the guest chair.
“Everything’s fine.”
“Scott, I know I’m just your controversial new hire, but you can tell me, you know? If something’s wrong, I’m happy to pick up whatever slack needs to be picked up, but I really don’t like operating in the dark.”
“It’s Rosaline,” he let out with a sigh. Rosaline his fiancée—his newly pregnant fiancée.
“Is she okay?” I asked, leaning forward. My concern was genuine.
Though I'd never met Rosaline, from all that I knew about her, she seemed like a wonderful woman. She might’ve been born into the same world of privilege as Scott and might’ve even dabbled in a beauty pageant or two, but she wasn’t just all blonde hair and Chanel purses.
Scott exhaled again. “I think so. The doctor said everything looked normal and that we shouldn’t be worried…”
“But?”
“But she’s been bleeding. Not a lot, and not all the time, but it started a few days ago, and it freaked her out. She’s been hiding under the duvet in our bed for seventy-two hours, and I just…I need to be here. I know it’s a big job for you to do by yourself, but I’ll have my phone with me at all times—”
“Don’t be crazy, Scott.”
“And if you need anything, have any questions—I don’t care how stupid they are—call me.”
He glanced at me, his eyebrows half-raised like he was expecting me to put up a bigger fight. Or maybe he was expecting himself to hesitate a little more before passing the reins over.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“I got it. Go. Seriously.”
“Alright,” he nodded, standing up. “Thanks, Jessica.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“Oh, and Calvin’s outside already. He’s waiting in the car. The two of you are taking the Michaels’ private jet.”
I nodded. “Right,” I said, watching as Scott walked out of my office.
“Have fun! But not too much,” he called over his shoulder.
I ate Oreos for dinner last night, and now here I was, flying on a private jet to Tuscany. Sometimes, life wasn’t so bad.
“You haven’t said a word since we got in the car.”
Calvin Walters smiled at me from the other side of the stretch limo. Because a normal town car, or even a Range Rover, would’ve been too declassé for him. I looked up from the planner in my lap.
“Sorry, I have a lot on my mind.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
I stared at him. He was the Executive Manager of the UK’s biggest construction company, and he didn’t look older than thirty. Slick black hair and crystal blue eyes, he wore the kind of confidence no girl was immune to.
Yet, there was something about him that made me…suspicious.
“I’ve just never been to Tuscany before. To Italy at all, actually. And now, I’m going to oversee our property and propose plans for renovations based on my observations. It’s a little bit of a whirlwind,” I said, maybe too honestly.
In response, Calvin slid across the seat until he was sat beside me.
“Don’t worry, doll. You have me by your side, and I’m quite good at what I do.”
“Are you now?”
He smiled the most self-assured smile I’d ever seen. “You have no idea. Now, come on. Let’s celebrate,” he said, opening the hidden mini-fridge door and pulling out a bottle of champagne.
“It’s not even seven-thirty in the morning!”
“Come now, if you want to get to know the Italians? This is how you get to know Italians,” he said, popping the cork like a pro. I watched the steam rise from the bottle and couldn’t help but laugh as he poured me a glass.
“To Tuscany,” he said, clinking his flute against mine.
“To Tuscany,” I echoed, raising the glass to my lips. One sip of the dry, sparkling champagne, followed by another, and I could already feel the bubbles going straight to my head as the heat from the alcohol warmed my cheeks.
‘This is why adults don’t subsist on Oreos alone,’ I chided myself.
Meanwhile, Calvin was already refilling my glass, and my rational thoughts evaporated.
“So tell me, Jessica, what do you do for fun?”
“Fun?”
“Mm,” he hummed, his eyes locked on mine.
I suddenly felt a little cornered. I sat up straighter, pulling my pencil skirt further down my legs and clearing my throat.
“I think we really should really stick to business,” I said, tapping the planner I still had open in my lap. “There are a few things I’d like to ask you, given your expertise, so that when we arrive, we have a clear plan of attack.”
“Plan of attack?” he laughed.
I nodded. “I like to be as informed as possible, Calvin. Starting with the exclusive suites and working our way down to the twin rooms, I’d like each room renovation on the property to be fully planned for by the time we leave on Monday.”
“You’re awfully ambitious.”
“So I’ve been told.”
I gave him a quick nod. “Great. Perfect.”
“You wanna start now?”
“Now?” I repeated like an idiot—but I was confused, and the champagne had gone straight to my head.
He let out a chuckle, patting my knee. “You’re really something. Yes, now. I can give you a rundown on how I usually appraise rooms, so when we get there, you’re less of a fish out of water.”
“Right, sure.”
“Let’s start with the beds,” he declared, looking right at me. “When I walk into a bedroom, no matter what kind of bedroom, I look right at the bed first. The bed tells a story. Don’t you agree?”
“Okay, yeah. I guess that makes sense…”
“It makes all the sense. Look at it this way—whether you’ve gone to the room to rest, to sleep, or to fuck, you’re there for the bed. That’s it, case closed.”
I studied him without raising a brow, trying to conceal my surprise at his crudeness. I was the furthest thing from a sensitive little schoolgirl, but I also knew allowing him to talk like that to me set a precedent, and I’d had enough misunderstandings this week. I wanted this relationship to be strictly professional.
“You’ve made your point, Calvin. The bed’s our mark. So, what’s next?”
He raised his eyebrows at me. “So next, doll, you need to make the bed stand out. That’s where we come in. It’s not enough to put it in the center of the room—you need to play with it, tease it, and bring it to attention. And just like in every bedroom, size does matter,” he said with a wink.
“So, you’re saying, the bigger, the better?” I asked innocently. I was going to beat this cocky businessman at his own game.
“Well, that depends now,” he said, inching closer to me. “The size of the room matters too. The little details coming to life. You don’t want the room over-stuffed. The guest needs to feel well taken care of.”
“Right, and we can’t have the guest feeling excluded in their own room.”
“Now you’re getting it. So, we choose the bed that is the best fit but also the most inviting. After all, it’s not really about the bed itself, but what happens on top of it that really counts.”
I was about to blurt out some congratulatory quip for him using a record number of sexual innuendos in one work conversation, but just then, the limo came to a stop. The driver lowered the dividing panel. “Mr. Walters, we’ve arrived on the tarmac.”
“Is the jet ready?” Calvin asked.
“They gave me the okay,” the driver replied.
“Perfect. Shall we then?” he asked me, and I nodded, closing my planner.
As I climbed out of the limo and stepped onto the tarmac, it felt like one of those once-in-a-lifetime moments you never forget. Because there I was, standing next to a stretch limousine with a private jet a few yards away from me. And there was the driver, carrying my luggage onto the plane.
“Doll, are you coming? Do you need a picture or something?” Calvin chuckled. He’d already started toward the jet and was walking away now, laughing at my dumbfounded expression.
I took a deep breath.
A moment later, I was on my first goddamn jet, and it was beautiful with all beige interiors and gold paneling.
The stewardess greeted me with the kindest smile I’d ever seen. “Good morning, Ms. Turner. Take any seat you’d like.”
As I turned into the cabin, my mind was reeling. It was all perfect. Too perfect. I didn’t deserve any of it. Everything was too goddamn luxurious!
Then, I found the one thing that could make my heart lurch amongst all this grandeur. Or should I say the one person? Because there, already seated in a beige-colored leather recliner, looking as calm and handsome as fucking ever, was Spencer Michaels.
His eyes were closed, and he wore an eggshell-white cashmere sweater. His dark jeans looked as effortlessly hip as his tousled hair and the lazy smirk on his face.
“Welcome aboard, Jess,” he said, even though his eyes were still closed.
“How? Why are you—?”
“What, you really think my brother would send you on a trip like without backup?” he asked, his smirk breaking into a smile. “Come on, grab a seat.” He patted the seat beside his.
I heard Calvin’s footsteps climbing up the stairs behind me, but I was momentarily frozen. My mind was running like a hamster on a wheel. I wasn’t just about to go on the most important trip of my professional career, but I was flying to Italy with two men, neither of which seemed to understand boundaries.
Calvin was cocky and had a filthy mouth, but I needed him to do my job. Meanwhile, Spencer was sexy as hell, but I really needed to stay clear of him to do my job.
“Doll, what’s the hold-up?” Calvin asked from behind me. He nudged me forward until I was in arm’s reach of Spencer.
I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. A weekend away in Tuscany. This couldn’t be that bad.
But then, Spencer grabbed my hand and pulled me into the seat beside his. “Let me guess, you’ve never even been to Tuscany before,” he said into my ear.
