Chapter 24
“Enjoy your stay in L.A,” the flight attendant said to Marissa and Bruno as they exited the plane.
“Thank you,” Marissa said.
For the first time in her life, she had flown on a chartered plane. The tan leather seats had been soft and comfortable, and she appreciated all the extra space and leg room. In addition, the flight attendant plied them with drinks and delicious food—much better than any meal she had ever eaten on a commercial flight. How could she go back to commercial flights—and coach—after such an amazing experience?
She still wasn’t sure she had made the right decision, but it was too late now. A car waited for them on the tarmac. After they climbed into the back of the vehicle, they took off for Bruno’s property in the Hollywood Hills.
“Once we get to my place?—”
Whatever he said was interrupted by his phone ringing.
“Excuse me. Hola,” he said and launched into a conversation in Spanish with the person on the other line.
Marissa preoccupied herself with sending a text to Chet to let him know she landed safely. Though she was doing nothing wrong on this trip, she felt the need to keep the purpose from Chet. She had told him that she was visiting the Executive Match office, and to keep from being a liar, she planned to go into the Beverly Hills location in the morning.
“We should be there in a few minutes.” Bruno’s voice came from beside her. “I’ve been preoccupied. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. I know you’re a busy man with businesses to run,” Marissa said.
He was dressed down in Chinos and a white shirt that was stark against his olive skin. She marveled again at how handsome he was and the feelings he stirred in her body. She longed to experience his lips on hers again but knew that would never happen. If she kept her good sense, anyway.
“I didn’t bring you on this trip to ignore you.”
“I don’t feel ignored. I’m enjoying the scenery. I’ve only been to L.A. once in my life. One of my friends moved here to be an actress, and on a whim, Lark and I visited her for a week one summer.”
“How old were you?”
“Oh gosh…” Marissa thought for a moment. “Nineteen.”
“Is your friend famous?”
“No. She booked a couple of roles in minor commercials but never had her breakout moment. After years of struggling, she left L.A. She’s married now. Her husband owns a construction company, and she works as his assistant. They have three kids and live in Tennessee, but she still has a passion for acting and teaches acting at the local theater. They put on community plays, that kind of thing. Not what she wanted to do with her life, but at least she’s able to dabble in the art of acting.”
“It’s hard to let go of the things that we have a passion for. What about you, Marissa? What are you passionate about besides matchmaking?”
“I’m doing what I’m passionate about. Helping people find their soulmates.”
“Soulmates,” Bruno said with amusement.
“You still don’t believe, do you?”
“No, I don’t, but I won’t argue with you because I know how passionate you are about the topic.”
“You’re mocking me, but I’m going to ignore that,” Marissa said with a laugh.
Sixty seconds later, they pulled up to a gate. The driver punched in a code then took the winding driveway up to the house. Marissa’s eyes widened. Bruno’s “little house” was anything but little.
The two-story property sat nestled in the Hills, a rectangular white structure dominated by glass with a balcony on the second floor that ran the length of the exterior. The chauffeur parked on the pad in front of the garage and opened the door on Bruno’s side. He climbed out and extended a hand to Marissa.
She took his hand, warmth permeating her body at the contact, memories of his touch sending tiny tremors through her. The way his hands had massaged her breasts and his thumbs rubbed her nipples.
She lowered her gaze so he couldn’t see his effect on her. “Thank you,” she murmured.
They entered the house, and the driver delivered the bags to the first floor.
Wow, Marissa thought.
The house was exquisitely furnished in creams and whites, the modern decor dominated by tasteful decorations that gave the impression of comfort. Typically, light colors presented a sterile décor, but the design elements depicted contemporary elegance instead.
“Let me show you around,” Bruno said.
He took her through the first level, where there were two bedrooms, a living room, and a wine cellar. They then carried their bags up to the second level, where there was a sleek kitchen with handleless cabinets.
He opened the refrigerator and showed her the fully stocked shelves. “My housekeeper went shopping before we came. We have plenty to eat and drink. Help yourself.”
There were two more bedrooms upstairs. Bruno placed her luggage in the smaller one before showing her into the main suite.
Marissa gasped.
“You like the room,” Bruno said.
“The room and the view.” She walked to the windows that took up an entire wall. A table and chairs were set up on the balcony, but beyond that was the dramatic view of the Hollywood sign, the canyons, and downtown.
“There’s a pool at that end of the house, but you can’t see it unless you step onto the balcony and go around the corner there,” Bruno said.
What the heck was she doing flying on a chartered jet with a billionaire chef, about to attend the James Beard Awards? The whole experience was surreal. Like something out of a movie. She didn’t know whether to pinch herself and wake up or sit back and enjoy the experience—fantasy or not.
“You have a beautiful place. Not quite as little as you implied. Four bedrooms, four baths, two stories, a pool, and a great-looking kitchen.”
“Thank you. I’ll assume you like the accommodations.”
“I like your home very much.”
Uncertain what to do next, Marissa clasped her hands together in front of her hips.
Bruno studied her in silence for a moment before he spoke. “We have a few choices for dinner, but I’ll let you decide. We can go out to eat, we can cook, or we can take the easy route and order in.”
“I would love to take the easy route. I feel like I’ve been traveling all day, though our flight was only a few hours. I would love to relax, if that’s okay with you.”
“That’s okay with me.”
“How about pizza for dinner?”
“Pizza?” Bruno repeated with a frown.
“Yes. Tell me you know a good pizza place.”
He thought for a moment. “As a matter-of-fact, you’re in luck. I do know a good pizza place.”
“Yes!”
He chuckled. “You and your cravings.”
“I know, it’s wild.”
“Are you craving anything in particular?”
You.
The word startled her, and she jumped.
Bruno stared at her with a frown. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I… um, I thought of something that I needed to do and didn’t do before I left so I better get to it.” She was rambling and shook her head. “Anyway, surprise me. I’ll leave the decision for toppings up to you.”
“All right, I’ll order dinner, and we can eat on the balcony in about an hour. Sound good?”
“Perfect.”
Marissa left him alone and went to her bedroom down the hall. Flopping onto her back on the mattress, she stared up at the ceiling. She flexed her fingers, which tingled from when Bruno had helped her out of the car earlier.
She hoped she could make it through the weekend without jumping his bones.
* * *
When the pizza arrived, they took both boxes out to the balcony. The sun was setting and washed the exterior in a golden glow. Bruno had a glass of red wine and placed a decanter in the middle of the table. Marissa opted for a Coke.
He opened both boxes.
“This is your garden variety pizza with pepperoni and cheese. This is one of my favorites—prosciutto and arugula with a drizzle of balsamic glaze. Both delicious in their own way.” He removed a slice of each and placed them on her plate. “Bon appétit.”
“Bon appétit,” Marissa said.
She took a bite of each, and they were delicious. She didn’t expect anything less because of course he had great taste. “This view. How can you leave it for Atlanta?”
“This house is nice to come back to, I admit, but my family is in Atlanta. No view can compare to that.”
Marissa finished chewing. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were close to your family.”
“Not at all. Our relationship is especially important to me because my parents split when I was a kid. My mother took us back to Colombia where she’s from. After a while, my father moved permanently to the United States. He had been living part of the year here and the other part in Mexico. It was difficult to not see him on a regular basis. My mother… well, I love her because she’s my mother, but not everyone is meant to be a parent. She is missing the mother gene. She always depended on help to raise us, but once she and my father divorced, we spent much more time with the nannies than with her, which we hated. Which caused us to act out. We were a handful.” He shook his head before taking a bite of pizza.
That explained the aversion to having a nanny raise his children, a sentiment he had expressed in their initial interview.
“A handful? Uh-oh.”
He chuckled. “We were boys, and I was the oldest. My younger brothers followed my lead.”
“You made your mother’s life miserable, didn’t you?”
“As much as I possibly could.”
“Bruno!”
He shrugged, elegant in his nonchalance. “I was a child, only eight or nine years old. I didn’t fully understand what I was doing. Then when my father married Rose, my stepmother, I was not happy. I gave her hell at first, but she was different. She was a hands-on mother and took care of us. I tried my best to make her life miserable too. She was not my mother, and I wanted to make sure she understood that. But, the more difficult I was, the more she showed patience and understanding. It was truly unbelievable.”
He took a sip of wine before continuing.
“Both my parents were actors, so I was accustomed to histrionics, but Rose…” He shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe his stepmother’s patience. “She never wavered in showing us love. She wore me down, and once my attitude changed, my brothers followed my lead. I don’t know how she found out, but she learned I liked to cook. I ended up in the kitchen with her and the family chef most days. She taught me about gardening and how to grow my own vegetables. Let me tell you, as a kid, to pick vegetables you had grown and cook them and serve them to your family—there is nothing like that experience.”
Marissa enjoyed getting these insights into his family life. He experienced love and affection, which she’d longed for growing up. “Rose sounds like an amazing woman.”
“She is.”
“You’ve spoken highly of both your parents. They sound like wonderful people. Why are they divorced?”
Bruno swirled his glass of wine with a sigh. “Because my father is stubborn. Rose wanted to spend more time with him, and the old fool couldn’t see she was a different kind of woman from my mother. She wasn’t trying to tell him what to do, which he hates. She loved him. That’s all. Their divorce was difficult to watch because I know they love each other. I hold out hope that one day they’ll get back together.”
“You’re a romantic after all,” Marissa remarked.
“Not a romantic. A realist. They love each other and make each other happy. They should be together.”
“You call it realism, I call it romance.”