11. Elio
Elio had often wondered what it would be like to be able to sequester himself on Malbia for months on end: refusing calls, not leaving the villa, not having to go to in-person meetings or parties. It had been a sort of fantasy of his, being able to run away from everything like that. He’d always thought of it as the perfect life, being able to buckle down and do his job without having to show up in person anywhere it was too crowded or too loud, and he had to pretend he was having a good time. All he’d needed was a valid reason.
Well, now he had one. Marc, sounding like a caricature of a New York lawyer, had pretty much forbidden Elio from leaving the island. Noel Preston had not only become hell-bent on taking Elio to court over the olive pit incident, but he’d been prancing around New York telling everyone and their mother about what had happened. The gossip in those social circles was always a toxic affair, but apparently Preston had taken it to new heights. According to him, Elio was tantamount to the antichrist and he was digging up whatever scrap of dirt he could to prove his point. Marc had used the word litigious. Elio preferred some other words that weren’t quite as civil, which only proved Marc’s point that he needed to stay away from anyone looking to get dirt on him and keep his mouth shut. Marc assured him that Preston would fall on his own sword, but for that they needed to be patient. For once in his life, though, Elio was feeling anything but.
He’d taken to walking around the island several times a day, needing to get out of the villa and have the sun on his face. It was something he’d never been particularly drawn to doing; he was usually more than happy to spend hours at his desk without so much as walking across the room or stretching his shoulders. But now in order to function from hour to hour, he found himself walking outside no matter the time or the weather. Maybe it was a strange return to his childhood, where he’d hide out in the grapevines and on the beach for hours on end. He hadn’t thought about that in years, not until he’d told Kayla all about it, and now the memories had come flooding back, reminding him of why he loved Malbia so much in the first place.
But then his brain would hopscotch from thoughts about vineyards and shady naps in the summer straight over to the blond-haired American with the miraculous eyes. It had been, what, three days? Three days that he’d known her, which was really no time at all. It was nothing but a drop in the ocean compared to the rest of his life. So why was he still thinking about her after months had passed?
Maybe it was being isolated on the island. Maybe the stress of the pending lawsuit was sending him crazy. Either way, he kept his thoughts about Kayla locked away in the back corner of his mind where they belonged. The trouble was he was really terrible at keeping them there. All of his efforts to focus on reality, on the here and now, didn’t stop him from wondering about possibilities. The possibility of talking to her again, seeing her again… Kayla hadn’t left a number or address, not even an email. But she’d mentioned that she was from Newark, and he knew which law firm had drawn up the papers that she had passed on to him. It wouldn’t be impossible to find a way to contact her, not when he had the resources he did at his disposal. But then that would send him into a whole different sort of thought spiral that kept him walking along the beach in an effort to clear his head. Because that was stalking, wasn’t it? At the very least, it was creepy. Surely, a woman he’d known for such a short amount of time wouldn’t feel great about being contacted by him months after they’d had a one-night stand and then finding out the lengths he’d gone to track her down.
It was all the ingredients for a different sort of lawsuit and maybe a restraining order to top it all off. Even though the thought of trying still held a golden edge of appeal, just enough that Elio wasn’t able to forget about the thought of tracking Kayla down entirely. So he just continued his daily battle of shoving those thoughts to the back of his mind, beating them away whenever they tried to crawl back into the light. Not to mention, if he went about actively trying to contact someone in the States while he was supposed to be in hiding, Marc might literally kill him. And Elio wasn’t suicidal enough to test that particular theory.
He wandered in from the beach, taking the long way through the kitchen. Even now he didn’t particularly feel like going back to his desk and looking at spreadsheets and percentages. He’d thrown himself into work harder than he ever had before, which really was saying something. Then again, it wasn’t like he’d had anything else to do. He didn’t even go to the mainland; there was no need. With the weather steady and calm and the worst forecasts only predicting light showers, the staff that kept the island villa running efficiently came and went like a swarm of bees. And with a gardener, a housekeeper, and a private chef here most days, Elio didn’t even have chores to complete to distract him from the business. And seeing as he needed a distraction from thoughts of Kayla, the business was his only option. It was a perfect circle.
At least Oro was benefiting from it. He’d drawn up detailed plans for production for the next three years at least, designating his design and marketing teams’ duties via virtual meetings. Then he’d have a flash of a memory about long blond curls and it would mean he spent even more time at his desk trying to forget about things that really shouldn’t matter.
But even so… he was still a human being and needed to eat. While Gianna was somewhere upstairs, Isabella, the chef, was in the kitchen flipping through one of her cookbooks and taking notes. Planning a menu had always been one of her favorite things to do, and since Elio thrived on routine and predictability, their working relationship had been pretty much perfect from the start.
“Hello, Isabella,” he said, and she looked up with a warm smile.
“I was thinking of taking advantage of some beautiful lamb cutlets I saw at the butcher’s,” she said, continuing to scribble notes.
“Sounds perfect. You know you have free rein.”
“And I appreciate it, but any requests while I’m at it?” She looked up at him, pen hovering over her notepad.
“Uh, yeah, I do, actually,” Elio said, already embarrassed at himself for bringing it up. But Isabella was looking at him expectantly and pleased, waiting for what he was going to say. If he tried to swallow his words, she’d only start asking questions, prodding at him until she found out what it was that he wanted to eat.
“Um, I’ve really been craving an omelet lately.”
“Of course,” Isabella said, noting it down. “It’s not much of a challenge, but I’m sure I can get creative.”
“We have plenty of onions and tomatoes, I’m sure.”
“I would hang up my apron in shame if we didn’t have onions and tomatoes at all times.”
Elio offered up a polite laugh, made his excuses about getting back to work and fled the kitchen, wanting to smack himself over the head with a frying pan.
So much for not thinking about Kayla… come breakfast tomorrow, he’d be served another reminder of her time here.