Текст книги "RIVALS: Part One "

Автор книги: Ella Adams

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5

The truth however, was that I now had to work for Clay Roth.

I had already given up my position with the event company, and I could not go back, seeing that I quit after only a month of work.

I was now stuck. I had to continue this position. I forced myself to remember the details of the fundraiser. I was going to Venice and I was working on a career-changing event. It was a masquerade ball during Carnivale, and it would be epic.

For two weeks I planned the charity ball. I never spoke to Clay again and I didn’t have to. He wasn’t involved on this level.

I dove right into the work with a fury. Anything I could do to distract myself from the flashbacks I was getting. Every time I closed my eyes or had a moment of silence, I saw Clay with his beautiful blonde locks between my legs caressing me.

He would look up at me with his beautiful blue eyes. It was too much to have to relive that moment over and over. I couldn’t even take walks in Central Park with out thinking about being in a garden with him.

I became a workaholic just to cope with the ordeal.

The night before I was due to leave for Italy, I was at my apartment packing and making some last minute preparations when my buzzer rang.

“Hello?”

“It’s Clay. May I come up?”

I was stunned into silence. Only a few seconds passed but it felt like minutes.

“OK.” I buzzed him in, then I darted to the bathroom and quickly put on a coat of lip-gloss and powdered my face.

I was wearing a tank top and tight jeans, but that was better than sweats so I left it on. I ran the brush aggressively through my hair and pinched my cheeks to get some color in them. Then I sprayed myself, and my entire apartment, with lavender.

I was thankful that I had spent the day cleaning and tidying up before my trip. A loud knock on the door let me know he had made it up. I took a deep breath and opened it, wondering how he knew my address, but then realising that as a new employee it would have been on record.

“Mr. Roth…. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“May I come in?”

“Yes, of course.”

He strolled in and paced around my apartment proudly, as though sizing up the place.

I felt minuscule. I’d almost forgotten how striking he was. His beautiful blue eyes were warm, even though his jaw was set in a stern line as he looked at me.

His long blonde locks looked recently bleached by the sun. Right then he looked like a surf god in a business suit. He looked so good right there standing in my apartment, only inches from my bedroom, and I wanted so desperately for him to fuck me.

It was all I could not to fall on my knees there and then, unzip his trousers and take his magnificent cock in my mouth.

“I just wanted to make sure everything was on track for the Venice fundraiser,” he said, as I struggled to regain my composure.

“Yes, of course.” I walked over to the coffee table and pulled out my leather binder with floor plans, ticket sales, and everything that had to do with the ball. “The supplies has been arranged, venue tickets are sold out, and as soon as I arrive I’m meeting with the vendors -”

“Sold out?”

“Yes, I thought you knew.”

“No, I did not. We’ve never sold out a charity ball before.”

Was that a hint of approval? Was he impressed with my work? I couldn’t tell. His blue eyes were so distracting that I stuttered through my words.

“I have a friend that works in marketing, and she has a knack for selling high priced ticket items like this. The key is to make it an experience for a good cause, instead of a donation for a good cause.”

“Then it had better be as promised. An experience, I mean.”

I was silent. He was being so cold. How was this the same man that awoke every desire in my body?

How was he the same man that took me so passionately in the garden? How was he the same man that flirted with me so aggressively when we first met?

Right then he was a completely different person. I was expecting an explanation for it all at any moment but he just stood there and looked at me up and down.

I suddenly felt inadequately dressed for what was obviously a business meeting.

“Did Max tell you the car will pick you up at ten in the morning tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Then you will be taking the private jet.”

“Jet? I thought I had airline tickets?”

“No, you are booked on my jet. It’s not for your comfort. I expect you to make the most of your time and use it to do any final preparations. This is a very important event.” He crossed the room to the door.

I just stood there. He was being a downright jerk. I wanted to slap him. Who did he think he was coming on to me so aggressively and then treating me like one of his lackeys?

Yet, I had to remember that however he made me feel, Clay Roth was my boss and my entire career was in his hands.

6

The next day I travelled to Venice alone on Clay’s private jet.

I had not spoken to him again since that last meeting. I didn’t want to either. I’d been humiliated and now I just wanted to do my job and do it well.

From this point on his assistant Max, became my main source of communication for Clay’s charity foundation. I was relieved.

Maybe it was possible to have this position and not have to talk to Clay again. It wasn’t clear whether he would even be in attendance at the event in Italy. His busy schedule might not allow it.

On the jet signs of Clay were everywhere. It was a masculine space with dark woods and brandy. It made me long for him. I was served the best foods by an attractive flight attendant and I couldn’t help but to assume that Clay had been with her as well. During the flight, I buried myself in my work, and then slept the rest of the way.

After landing at the airport a black car was waiting for me. It drove me to the docks whereupon a private boat took me to the beautiful city on the canals.

It had been years since I had visited the most romantic place in the world, and even then it was a tourist trip. This was different. I would be living here for weeks while I organized the ball. It was like a dream come true.

The vaparetto stopped on the outskirts at a small dock and from there I boarded a small watercraft with a slow engine that took me to my new living quarters.

It was early morning and the Venetians were just waking up. The small motorboat stopped along the side of a small canal in front of a step of grey stone stairs that went from the sidewalk straight into the water. A kind man carried my luggage up the stairs and I followed to a large gate. I pulled on a rope and the bell rang. A maid answered. She greeted me kindly, and said, “I am Sofia, Andiamo.”

I walked in the gate to a large courtyard garden and a massive palazzo. I thought I was staying in a hotel but by the looks of it, this was a private residence.

I immediately guessed it must be Clay’s. I started to feel flushed and panicked. Would he be here? Or did he let me stay here because he knew that he would not be here?

So many questions, and I could not get answers. I was too embarrassed to ask Max for any information about Clay, because I didn’t want him to see that I might be asking because I was romantically interested.

My bags were taken care of while I shown inside. Through the enormous wooden stairs was a large entryway. Beautiful Italian marble floors and colossal columns were the first thing you saw.

The décor looked like it had been there since the early 1500s with heavy tapestries and rich paintings. The furniture ranged from Renaissance to Victorian yet it was warm and inviting, not cold like in a museum. It was breathtaking.

Right then, I knew I had made the right decision to keep this job. No other job would give me these types of experiences.

I just had to deal with the bed I had made for myself by stupidly being intimate with the boss. I would just have to forgive myself and move on. The work was the most important thing now and the experience alone would be incredible for my resume.

I was led up the intricately carved staircase to my room, which was one fit for a princess. The canopy bed was draped in fine white lace, and the large windows over looked the Grand Canal and some of the smaller island surrounding the main city, San Marco. The armoire was massive and evidently from a time long gone. The walls were covered in light mint green silk wallpaper with soft patterns. A heavy wooden chest sat at the foot of the bed and beautiful paintings of gardens and Italian landscapes adorned the walls.

It was heaven. Even after a long flight I was excited to walk through the city. I decided I would take a hot bath, a small nap, and then head out in time for lunch.

In the early afternoon I was ready. It was three days before the Carnivale celebrations were set to start. My event was in the last week of the festival and on the last day. Basically it would be a closing ball.

This meant I had some time to enjoy the festivities and all that Venice had to offer.

I left the palazzo and strolled down the beautiful canal side sidewalks in San Marco with out any sense of where I was going. I would just let the magic of the town guide me.

I walked until I came across a sidewalk café with lots of charm. I sat down and ordered a cappuccino and light tomato salad with olive oil and of course fresh baked bread for lunch. It was absolute heaven. This was everything I wanted it to be.

After lunch it was straight to business. I had an appointment to see the space where our ball would be held. I decided to take a gondola since I had plenty of time to spare.

I gave the gondolier the address and sat back and enjoyed the leisurely boat ride. Tomorrow was the official kick off for Carnivale and Venice was already buzzing. People casually wore the famous masquerade mask, but most were not in full dress. This would definitely be a sight to see.

The gondola pulled up to an old palace. It was massive, done in the same style as the Doges Palace. This was to be my event space for the charity ball. It was perfect.

There was more than one landing and staircase that lead up to the massive gates. This allowed for high traffic for those coming by water. For those walking the entrance was on the other side of the building.

“You must be Eva?” a cheery Italian woman yelled at me from the gate.

“Yes! Thank you for meeting me.”

“With pleasure! With pleasure!” her accent was thick and I liked her immediately. Her name was Maria and she was the caretaker of the massive palace. We began the tour. Upon walking into the building it took my breath away. It was a massive space with high ceilings that looked like a cathedral. There would be ample space for a ballroom dance floor surrounded by plush furnishings and lots of food and entertainment. I was impressed.

Off the main ballroom were large halls that led to smaller more intimate rooms. They were perfect areas to stage dinner tables and lounge areas. I was in heaven. Maria loved that I was so blown away by the space. She gave me a blueprint layout and I was on my way out the door.

I decided to walk back through the streets of San Marco instead of the gondola ride. As I walked I passed shops with beautiful ball gowns in the windows. I still needed to get a gown. I laughed as that thought ran through my mind. I never thought I would actually say that. I was happily walking when my phone rang. It was Clay’s assistant Max.

“Hello Eva. How’s Venice?” he asked.

“It’s amazing. I just toured the event space and everything is going smoothly.”

“Perfect. I just wanted to give you a heads up on Clay’s schedule. It seems he still will not be able to join you in Venice. His girlfriend has some sort of emergency. If you need anything just give me a call. I can come out if you need me as well.”

“Of course, thank you.”

As I said goodbye to Max and hung up the phone, I tried my utmost to pretend that the word ‘girlfriend’ hadn’t hit me like a blow to the solar plexus.

7

I stood there motionless. Suddenly everything made sense. Clay had a girlfriend.

Which meant our time in the garden together meant he was cheating. I was hurt, jealous, and confused. How could he?

I needed to get back to my room. I needed to be alone. I walked fast and as I looked around I started to notice all the couples walking hand in hand. The romance of Venice was suddenly like a thorn through my heart.

I got back to the palazzo and hurried to my room. It felt good to be alone and to process the information that I learned. It seemed obvious now that a girlfriend must be the reason he rejected me in the garden. It must be the reason he was so cold to me in my apartment. It was relieving to know that it wasn’t because there was something wrong with me. But it made me furious. Clay obviously had some sort of sense of entitlement to do that sort of thing to me in the first place. Even if he did stop himself, to me, intimate is intimate.

I slept restlessly that night, completely unprepared for what awaited me in the morning.

I woke up to a loud knock at the door. I sleepily made my way over and opened it. In rushed two loud women followed by the maid, Sofia who profusely apologized for the intrusion.

Suddenly I was in a whirlwind of measuring tape and fabrics.

One woman, who clearly was the boss, ordered another to bring in the gowns. The gowns? I thought. Within seconds gorgeous ball gowns were scattered around my room along with masks and magnificent shoes.

Being still half asleep, I thought I was dreaming.

She informed me that Mr. Roth ordered their services to provide me with as many gowns as I needed to get through each day of Carnivale. I was astonished.

The dressmaker acted as if I knew what was going on. I did not. I managed to grab my phone and check my email while the women set about measuring me and pressing various colors of fabric against my skin.

I had an email from Max stating that Clay had ordered my wardrobe to wear to Carnivale events and that it was part of the job.

I smiled at the perks coming my way and then worried that I had truly messed up this wonderful job by being intimate with the boss. For now, I had to put that out of my mind.

The maid, Sofia, came in with an assortment of pastries and espresso drinks. I felt like a princess as I tried on dress after dress allowing the dressmaker to make the alterations to suit my body and height.

The masks ranged from delicate antiques to ones that were freshly made for this year’s festivities. I was in wardrobe heaven and I could really imagine as though I was living in a past century.

She chose ten elegant ball gowns of silk for the evenings. I had them in many shades each with their own unique design. There was a rich yellow gold silk dress that reflected the light and made me look like I was glowing. A matching gold mask was covered in sequins so it sparkled when I moved. A pale mint green gown of taffeta and silk gave me a softer appearance. It was perfect for the garden parties or a smaller ball or evening dinner. A fuchsia pink dress went perfectly with my complexion with pink satin heels to go with it. I also had gowns in purple, blue, white, peach, red, and silver.

For the daytime the dressmaker gave me seven outfits that were perfect for less formal occasions or just walking around Venice. These were in solid colors and made from lighter fabrics like cotton and linen. They were also beautiful with intricate patterns and lots of lace.

After the fitting, my closet was bursting with sexy dresses and corsets and my vanity was full of magnificent costume jewelry and masks. I was now ready for Carnivale. I was beyond excited.

Before the dressmaker left she helped me pick my wardrobe for the daytime. I was now wearing one of those daytime gowns. It had all the right designs of a vintage dress circa 1800s, but was more modest and simple for the daytime activities. It was a deep magenta made from soft cotton with intricate lace details. I piled my hair on top of my head into a messy but elegant up do, my favorite thing to do with my long hair.

The matching mask was a very slim piece of white lace made to cover just my eyes, like a cat mask. I tied it around my head with ribbon and was happy to not have to hold a mask with a stick like the more traditional ones.

I opened the shutters to my window that over looked the canal and the sights below were incredible. People lined the canal for the boat parade and almost everyone was in costume.

Within minutes the parade started and boat after decorative boat floated down the canal. I had a perfect view from my room. People everywhere were filled with excitement and an energy that promised romance and magic. I once again could not believe this was actually my life.

After the parade, I prepared to leave. My first event of the day was a lunch masquerade party. I was going in order to meet up with the caterer. This particular caterer was the one I’d hired to do the charity ball and I wanted to watch him work and make sure the work and food was to my satisfaction.

Of course, I would also take every opportunity to enjoy myself as well.

I told Sofia, I would be leaving and she mentioned that the gondola and gondolier, Ernetto, were at my disposal for the duration of the festivities.

It was basically like having a private car and chauffeur. He was an employee of Clay’s palazzo. I would have much preferred to walk but the pedestrian traffic was at an all time high. So I agreed to go by boat.

Through the canals we floated and I saw the most amazing costumes and happiness on people’s faces. For a minute I longed to have a group of my own to enjoy this festival with, but I had to remind myself that I was here for work first and foremost.

Ernetto pulled up to a water staircase that led up to a large stoned wall covered in green vines with purple flowers. It smelled heavenly.

“Here you are, bella. The Garden of Kings.”

“Thank you,” I said as he helped me out of the gondola.

Garden of Kings? I thought to myself. I thought that was the name of the party, but maybe I was wrong and it was the name of the location.

I walked up the steps to the stoned wall where there was a large archway. Men in black and white suits with black capes and porcelain white masks stood guard at the entrance of the archway. They said nothing to me, but instead extended out a white-gloved hand, almost like a mime would do. I was unsure what to do at first and then remembered I had an invitation for this party. I reached into my velvet-pouched purse and pulled out a white card. The masked man looked it over and then they both stepped aside to let me in. That was interesting I thought to myself.

I walked down the long corridor and the sounds of a party echoed off the walls. At the end of the corridor I stepped into a vibrant garden teaming with people in costume. I almost laughed out loud at the other-worldliness of it all.

There was a seated string quartet in the far corner of the garden and plush furniture set up in various spots. Large banquet tables were decorated with flowers and adorned with enormous amounts of food and drink. I looked up to see hanging baskets of flowers and plants. Indeed it was a garden fit for a king. I walked around taking it all in. The guests were nice and the added mystery of the masks made everyone feel safe enough to have open conversation. It was a very festive atmosphere.

I sampled the rich foods and met with the caterer. I was pleased with his work and relieved that I wouldn’t have to find another on such short notice. Now I could just enjoy the party. I walked through the garden paths and got the feeling I was being followed. I looked over my shoulder briefly but didn’t stop walking. I turned down a corner path. A part of me wanted it to be Clay. I wanted him to find me and surprise me. I wanted the romantic story of him telling me he left his girlfriend and only wants to be with me. My imagination was running wild.

“For you,” A low sultry voice said from behind me. It had a thick Italian accent, so I knew instantly it was not Clay.

I turned around. Before me stood a tall man in a black cape, a black vest over a white shirt, and tight black trousers with mid-calf high boots.

He wore a white mask that covered almost his entire face. Dark black curls were hidden under a black felt hat. I looked at his white-gloved hand, which held a small red rosebud.

“For me?”

“Yes, bella. The red flower of amore.”

I reached out to grab it, and he took my hand in his and kissed the top of it as he bowed. He looked up at me. I could see his piercing green eyes and full soft lips, but that was all as the mask concealed the rest. This was too good to be true. It was like a fairy tale.

He turned and walked away. I stood there mesmerized. Did that just happen?

I really was in Venice, the perfect location for romance and mystery.