Read Online The Hidden Heart of Rico Rossi by Kate Hardy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kate Hardy
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course,
signorina
. What time would you like it?’
‘Now, please.’
‘Sì
, of course. Would you like to wait in the lounge, round the corner? I’ll come and find you as soon as your taxi arrives.’
‘Grazie.’
With one last look at Rico—the man who’d made her feel like a million dollars, yet had lied to her consistently—Ella went into the lounge.
Please let the taxi be quick.
It was the first time Rico had ever regretted living at the flagship hotel in the Rossi chain. Normally he didn’t mind dropping everything to sort out a problem with a difficult guest. But why did it have to be now?
Stupidly, he hadn’t taken a note of Ella’s mobile phone number, so he couldn’t call her to tell her he was going to be a little late. ‘Mr Banks is waiting for me in his room, yes? I need you to stall him for three minutes, Gaby, while I make a phone call,’ he said.
‘Will do,’ Gabriella said, looking relieved. ‘Thank you, Signor Rossi.’
‘Prego,’
he said politely, trying not to show his irritation.
He rang Ella’s room; there was no answer. So either she was still having breakfast in the hotel’s restaurant or she was in the shower, he guessed.
‘Gaby, can I ask you to get a message to Signora Chandler for me? She’s in the honeymoon suite. Tell her I’ve been delayed, and I’ll be with her as soon as I can. If she’d like coffee, whatever, then it’s on the house, OK?’
‘Of course, Signor Rossi,’ the receptionist said.
Rico took a deep breath and summoned a smile. From what Gabriella had told him, Mr Banks sounded like the kind of guest who’d complain if he couldn’t find something to complain about. But, all the same, he was a guest and deserved courtesy and attention. Hopefully Rico would be able to sort out all the misunderstandings—and then Ella would be waiting for him.
Ella sat in the back of the taxi, barely paying any attention to her surroundings as the driver took her through the outskirts of Rome and onto the motorway towards the airport.
Why
had he lied to her? That was what she didn’t understand. Why had he pretended to be somebody else? Washe so rich, spoiled and bored that he got his kicks from making a fool out of people?
What an idiot she’d been, letting herself fall for every word he’d said. Accepting everything at face value. She really ought to have known better. The man she’d spent three days with—the man she’d let into her bed and started to let into her heart—just didn’t exist. Rico the tour guide was a complete fabrication. Rico the CEO was a complete stranger; she knew nothing of his true self.
As for that coin she’d thrown into the Trevi Fountain—well, she had no intention of ever coming back to Rome.
Finally, Rico left Mr Banks smiling and satisfied. The man had to be the most difficult guest he’d ever encountered—the room was too small, the towels were the wrong size and hadn’t been laundered, the pillows were too flat, the bed was too hard, the air-conditioning didn’t suit him, and as for the city tax that tourists had to pay on top of an already extortionate hotel bill …
Rico had listened, empathised and made suggestions. And he’d upgraded the man’s room, even though he suspected that Mr Banks was the kind of customer who booked the cheapest room in every hotel he stayed at and then complained until he was upgraded to the best suite. He’d gently explained that anyone staying in Rome had to pay the city tax, and Mr Banks’ travel agent should have told him when he booked that several other cities in Italy, including Venice and Florence, levied the same tax on visitors. And he’d also very politely pointed out the notice in the bathroom asking guests to help the hotel be more environment-friendly by leaving the towels that needed laundering in the bathtub and putting the ones they didn’t mind re-using on the towel rack. If Mr Banks wanted all his towels laundered every day, that was fine.
He took a deep
signorina
. What time would you like it?’
‘Now, please.’
‘Sì
, of course. Would you like to wait in the lounge, round the corner? I’ll come and find you as soon as your taxi arrives.’
‘Grazie.’
With one last look at Rico—the man who’d made her feel like a million dollars, yet had lied to her consistently—Ella went into the lounge.
Please let the taxi be quick.
It was the first time Rico had ever regretted living at the flagship hotel in the Rossi chain. Normally he didn’t mind dropping everything to sort out a problem with a difficult guest. But why did it have to be now?
Stupidly, he hadn’t taken a note of Ella’s mobile phone number, so he couldn’t call her to tell her he was going to be a little late. ‘Mr Banks is waiting for me in his room, yes? I need you to stall him for three minutes, Gaby, while I make a phone call,’ he said.
‘Will do,’ Gabriella said, looking relieved. ‘Thank you, Signor Rossi.’
‘Prego,’
he said politely, trying not to show his irritation.
He rang Ella’s room; there was no answer. So either she was still having breakfast in the hotel’s restaurant or she was in the shower, he guessed.
‘Gaby, can I ask you to get a message to Signora Chandler for me? She’s in the honeymoon suite. Tell her I’ve been delayed, and I’ll be with her as soon as I can. If she’d like coffee, whatever, then it’s on the house, OK?’
‘Of course, Signor Rossi,’ the receptionist said.
Rico took a deep breath and summoned a smile. From what Gabriella had told him, Mr Banks sounded like the kind of guest who’d complain if he couldn’t find something to complain about. But, all the same, he was a guest and deserved courtesy and attention. Hopefully Rico would be able to sort out all the misunderstandings—and then Ella would be waiting for him.
Ella sat in the back of the taxi, barely paying any attention to her surroundings as the driver took her through the outskirts of Rome and onto the motorway towards the airport.
Why
had he lied to her? That was what she didn’t understand. Why had he pretended to be somebody else? Washe so rich, spoiled and bored that he got his kicks from making a fool out of people?
What an idiot she’d been, letting herself fall for every word he’d said. Accepting everything at face value. She really ought to have known better. The man she’d spent three days with—the man she’d let into her bed and started to let into her heart—just didn’t exist. Rico the tour guide was a complete fabrication. Rico the CEO was a complete stranger; she knew nothing of his true self.
As for that coin she’d thrown into the Trevi Fountain—well, she had no intention of ever coming back to Rome.
Finally, Rico left Mr Banks smiling and satisfied. The man had to be the most difficult guest he’d ever encountered—the room was too small, the towels were the wrong size and hadn’t been laundered, the pillows were too flat, the bed was too hard, the air-conditioning didn’t suit him, and as for the city tax that tourists had to pay on top of an already extortionate hotel bill …
Rico had listened, empathised and made suggestions. And he’d upgraded the man’s room, even though he suspected that Mr Banks was the kind of customer who booked the cheapest room in every hotel he stayed at and then complained until he was upgraded to the best suite. He’d gently explained that anyone staying in Rome had to pay the city tax, and Mr Banks’ travel agent should have told him when he booked that several other cities in Italy, including Venice and Florence, levied the same tax on visitors. And he’d also very politely pointed out the notice in the bathroom asking guests to help the hotel be more environment-friendly by leaving the towels that needed laundering in the bathtub and putting the ones they didn’t mind re-using on the towel rack. If Mr Banks wanted all his towels laundered every day, that was fine.
He took a deep
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