Modern Romance March 2021 Book 5-8 by Carol Marinelli (most romantic novels .txt) 📕

Luca’s expression hardened. “A livable wage for honest employment, thanks to efforts by my sister and I, because he couldn’t be dissuaded from doing it. Hardly the best use of Vallia’s taxes, though.”

Amy managed to bite back her observation that he didn’t sound as though he had been super close with his dad.

They stepped from the car, and the comforting warmth of sunbaked stones radiated into her while a soft, salt-scented breeze rolled over her skin. The palace was set into terraced grounds facing the sea, but the view stretched east and west on either side. Flowers were bursting forth in splashes of red and yellow, his country’s colors, in the gardens and in terra-cotta pots that sat on the wide steps. New leaves on the trees ruffled a subtle applause as they climbed toward the entrance.

A young man hurried to open a door for him.

Entering the palace was a step into a sumptuous garden of white marble streaked with pinks and blues, oranges and browns. Ornate plasterwork and gold filigree climbed the walls like vines, sweeping in curves and curls up to the sparkling crystal chandeliers. The fresco painted on the dome above had her catching at Luca’s arm, it made her so dizzy. Amid the cerulean skies and puffy clouds and beams of sunlight, the angels seemed rather...sexual.

They weren’t angels, she realized with a lurch of her heart. That satyr definitely had his hand between the legs of a nymph.

A man cleared his throat.

Amy jerked her gaze down to see a palace sage of some type, middle-aged, in a dark suit. His gaze was on her hand, which still clutched Luca’s sleeve.

She let it fall to her side.

“Amy, this is Guillermo Bianchi, my private secretary. Guillermo, Amy Miller. She’s with London Connection, a public relations firm. She’ll assist with the foundation’s gala.”

“I received the email, signor.” Guillermo nodded as both greeting and acknowledgment of her role. “Welcome. Rooms have been prepared and appointments arranged with the team.”

“Thank you. Er...grazie, I mean.”

“Amy will join me for dinner in my dining room while she’s here.”

Guillermo gave an obsequious bow of his head that still managed to convey disapproval. He asked Amy to accompany him up a wide staircase beneath a massive window that allowed sunlight to pour in and shoot rainbows through the dangling chandelier.

She looked back, but Luca was already disappearing in another direction toward a handful of people waiting with tablets, folders and anxious expressions.

Amy went back to gawking at the opulence of the palace. She’d grown up with enough wealth to recognize hand-woven silk rugs and antiques that were actually priceless historical artifacts. She lifted her feet into a slight tiptoe when they reached a parquet floor, fearful of damaging the intricate artistry of the polished wood mosaic with her sharp heels. She could have stood upon it for hours, admiring the geometric designs.

This whole place was a monument to ancient wealth and abundance that stood on the line of gaudy without quite crossing it.

After a long walk through a gallery and down a flight of stairs, she was guided into a lounge that was a perfect mix of modern and period pieces. It had a wide gas fireplace, tall windows looking onto a garden with a pond, and Victorian furniture that she suspected were loving restorations. Everything in the room was the height of class—except the pornographic scene above the sofa. Amy blinked.

“The previous king commissioned a number of reproductions from Pompeii,” Guillermo informed her in bland, barely accented English. “I’ve ordered tea and sandwiches. They’ll be here shortly. Please let the maid know if you require anything else.”

Amy almost asked whether the sofa was a pullout, but he was already gone.

She poked around and discovered this was a self-contained flat with a full kitchen, a comfortable office with a view to the garden, and two bedrooms, each with more examples of Pompeii’s salacious artwork.

Her meager luggage was waiting to be unpacked in the bigger room alongside a handful of clothes that were unfamiliar, but were in her size. There was a luxurious bath with a tempting, freestanding tub, but she only washed her hands.

A three-tiered plate arrived full of sandwiches, savory pastries and chocolate truffles, and was accompanied by coffee, tea and a cordial that turned out to be a tangy sweet liquor meant to be served with the soda water that accompanied it.

She did her best not to reveal she was completely bowled over, but she was only around wealth these days. London Connection was doing well, but they were reinvesting profits and using them to hire more staff. Amy had conditioned herself to live on a shoestring after being expelled from school. She’d been unable to take her A-levels and had had to sell what possessions she’d had at the time—mostly designer clothes and a few electronics—to set herself up in a low-end flat. She’d come a long way since then, but the maid probably had a higher net worth than she did.

Amy asked her to set the meal on the table outside her lounge. The patio overlooked a man-made pond full of water lilies where a weathered Neptune rose from the middle, trident aloft. Columns that were buckling with age surrounded the water. This must be the ruins of the Roman villa that Luca had mentioned, she thought.

Between the columns stood statues that looked new, though. Huh. The gladiator had a bare backside that rivaled Luca’s, and the mermaid seemed very chesty.

After the maid left, Amy gave in to curiosity. She set aside her tea to walk out for a closer look.

“My father’s taste was questionable,” Luca said behind her. “To say the least.”

She swung around, but had to look up to find him. He stood on a terrace off to the right that she surmised was the best vantage point to admire the pond. He wore the clothes he’d had on earlier, but his jacket was off again and his sleeves were rolled back. His expression was shuttered, but once