Chapter Two
Fourteen weeks earlier
‘So you want more autonomy, Stella?’ Alfredo Barbieri leaned back in his leather desk chair, elbows on its arms and fingers steepled beneath his chin. His bushy eyebrows lowered. ‘But not just autonomy. You want me to hand over a hotel to you. A hotel!’
That beetling look was designed to bully people into submission. She’d seen it work time and again, even on senior executives.
For years she’d done everything she could to please the man she’d met when she was ten.
Initially grief, gratitude and the desire to belong had motivated her.
But as the years progressed she learned it was easier to avoid her father’s temper, never rocking the boat, working hard and going the extra mile to fit in with her newfound family.
Pretending not to notice slights and deliberate exclusions.
But there was a difference between fitting in and being a doormat. The time had come to assert herself.
‘A small hotel, Papa. And,’ she continued smoothly when he would have interrupted, ‘you know I’m ready for this.’
She’d worked part-time in his hotels from the age of fourteen. Since school she’d worked full-time in the family company while doing a business degree. She’d learnt the business from the ground up.
‘You said yourself that I’ve excelled. The feedback on my performance—’
‘Yes, yes.’ He waved one large hand. ‘I know all that.’
Of course he did. He hadn’t built his commercial empire by ignoring details and he demanded the best of everyone, especially family.
‘I’m older than Enzo and Rocco were when you gave them a property each to manage.’
Her father planted his palms on the desk and leaned forward, scowling. ‘You think that means you deserve that I give you such an asset?’
Her half-brothers wouldn’t think so. They’d pretended she wasn’t part of the family from the day she appeared, the illegitimate daughter of a foreign mother.
She’d arrived from Australia when they were in their twenties.
Even the fact that their father had been a widower for years before Stella was conceived during a short affair didn’t assuage their dislike of having a stranger thrust into their midst.
She sat back and crossed her legs, taking her time responding. Her father walked over anyone who didn’t have enough gumption to stand up to him.
‘Yes. I do deserve it. You know I do.’
Being Alfredo Barbieri’s daughter was a two-edged sword. She knew the business like the back of her hand, for her father lived and breathed it. She was more than qualified, academically and experientially.
At the same time, because she was the boss’s daughter she’d had to work harder and longer to prove herself.
Her father had happily lavished money on her for things like a car or being seen dining in the best places, because that reflected on the family’s prestige.
But he continued to pay her a pittance. As if in her mid-twenties she were still cleaning bathrooms rather than creating a successful publicity campaign for a newly renovated hotel, or managing the development of a VIP travel concierge service.
‘Very sure of yourself, aren’t you?’
‘I know my worth, and so do you.’
He said nothing, just raised his eyebrows. Stella shrugged, trying to make the movement look easy rather than stiff as tension crept up her neck. She’d prepared for this interview so long, she couldn’t let him cow her into silence, despite the nerves making her stomach churn.
‘Others have noticed my work too.’ That caught his attention. ‘I’ve had offers of work elsewhere, in other hotels.’
A heavy hand slammed down on the desk. ‘No Barbieri is working for a rival company! I won’t permit it. Is that your idea of loyalty to the family? After all I’ve done for you?’
I’m not really a Barbieri, though, am I?
She’d tried to adapt to the family she hadn’t known existed before her mother’s death, but often felt an outsider.
Bastard, her half-brothers had called her.
And while Alfredo talked about family, he wasn’t loving.
She’d assured herself people showed affection in different ways, yet still she wondered.
Her mother had been warm-hearted and demonstrative. Alfredo was her polar opposite.
Stella sat straighter, dismissing unhelpful thoughts. She wasn’t a little girl, lost and grieving.
‘You know I’m loyal. If I weren’t I’d be working in Rome by now. Or—’
Her father’s scowl turned ferocious. ‘Who tried to steal you? Not Valenti?’ His voice was a growl of hatred.
Quickly she shook her head. She didn’t know the origin of her father’s feud with Giancarlo Valenti, but his name was guaranteed to sour Alfredo’s mood.
‘I’ve never met the man, or his staff. I’m asking for the same as you gave my brothers.’
‘So, we’re back to your brothers again. You expect a handout because you’re family.’
A slow smile curved her father’s mouth as if finally she’d said something he wanted to hear.
Stella stiffened, fearing she’d taken a misstep, the hair at her nape prickling. She knew that expression. Her father wore it when he’d pushed someone onto the back foot and was about to outmanoeuvre them.
‘I want an opportunity to prove myself.’
Her work was better than Enzo’s or Rocco’s, despite their age difference. But her father had always been loath to admit it.
‘An opportunity for you and for the company,’ he probed. ‘Is that what you’re saying? Because you’re committed to Barbieri Enterprises?’
Stella had given her all and wasn’t about to walk away, no matter how enticing the other offers. She wanted to make her mark in the family company. She wanted to belong.
‘Of course I’m committed.’
He sat back, eyes glinting, and trepidation stirred in her belly. That toothy smile put her on edge.
‘Excellent. You have worked hard, Stella. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. And now there is an opportunity for you to show your commitment to the company and the family.’
Unease skittered down her spine. ‘You’re not talking about the hotel in Taormina, are you?’
With money and vision, the newly acquired hotel could become a jewel.
She wanted to be the person to achieve that.
It would be her steppingstone into the company’s executive and the future for which she’d worked so hard.
Yet instinct born of a decade and a half’s acquaintance with Alfredo Barbieri warned he had something else up his sleeve.
Her father waved a dismissive hand. ‘The hotel is yours and the budget you need to renovate. On one condition.’
Now they came to it.
Stella had suspected from the moment she’d walked into his office that the old man was up to something. But she’d put it down to nerves, telling herself it was imagination.
She should have known she’d have to jump through more hoops than her half-brothers ever had to get the same opportunity. It had always been like that.
Planting her hands on the arms of her chair, she met her father’s eyes. ‘What condition?’
‘Marriage. Join our family with the Morosis.’ He leaned back, rubbing his hands. ‘Eduardo Morosi is sole heir to a banking empire. Rich, aristocratic and in need of a wife. Think what we could do with access to the Morosi family money and connections.’
Her head felt light and her voice was scratchy as she said, ‘We’ve got our own money and connections.’
‘Don’t be na?ve, girl!’ He slapped the desk again.
‘There are some things you can never have too much of. I’ve been in negotiations with the family for some time and we’re close to agreement on some big projects.
’ He paused, his glare pinioning her. ‘We’re talking serious money and long-term schemes.
Obviously if that were underpinned by a family connection, we’d all feel happier.
It’s easier to trust family, after all.’
Stella sucked air into starved lungs. Her half-brothers had married well-connected women but as far as she knew they’d chosen their brides. Had that been allowed because they were male or because they were real Barbieris, not foreign blow-ins?
Maybe it was sheer luck that the Morosi heir was male and Alfredo had an unmarried daughter. An asset to be negotiated away like an underperforming hotel.
Her throat was so tight she could barely swallow. The rusty tang of blood tainted her tongue where she’d bitten it.
‘And without a marriage?’ she whispered. ‘Doesn’t the Morosi family trust you enough to do business otherwise?’
She wouldn’t blame them. Her father had a knack for getting his own way at the expense of others.
Dull colour flooded his cheeks, his mouth flattening. ‘You’re saying no?’
She lifted one shoulder. ‘Surely Eduardo Morosi can find his own wife. Unless there’s something wrong with him?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with him. You should be grateful I’ve gone to so much trouble finding you such a husband. Any woman would be proud to marry him.’ Her father leaned across the desk. ‘And proud to help their family.’
Stella wanted to say she’d already helped her family.
She’d put in years of virtually unpaid work, always ready for whatever challenge was thrown her way, never complaining.
As her skills had grown she’d been responsible for changes that had increased profits significantly.
She was an asset to the business and they both knew it.
‘You’re not saying anything, Stella,’ her father said through gritted teeth.
‘I want to work for the company, not be sold off like an inanimate object.’
For long moments her father held her gaze before slowly shaking his head. ‘I’ve always tried to do what’s best for you, Stella. Taking you in, caring for you, giving you a home. I never thought you’d be ungrateful.’
‘I’m not ungrateful! I just want—’
‘That’s the current generation, isn’t it? It’s all about what you want. Not about what you can do for those who care for you and raised you. Who gave you the best education and opportunities. The best of everything.’