CHAPTER FOURTEEN
W ithout a chance to catch our breaths, the press had taken over the front of Marini Corporate. They had television cameras, paparazzi poised and ready to speak to any Marini that might come to force an impromptu interview. Somehow, they always seemed to know our every move and what was happening. Staring out there was only one path inside the glass front lobby and we’d have to walk past them. My heart pounded as anxiety took hold of me. I felt a touch on my hand and turned to Ian. “A few seconds and we’ll be inside. Don’t worry.”
Zane climbed out and ran towards the building. A few seconds later, he returned with two security guards to our door.
“Don’t say a word,” Ian instructed, picking up his briefcase. He climbed out first, and I followed. Zane moved to the other side of me, and with the security, we walked forward as a unit toward the front lobby. The paparazzi shouted questions.
Adelina…Adelina, is that a wedding ring on your finger?
When did you and Rocco get married?
Did you know Luca Marini was ill?
Are you pregnant?
I clenched my jaw and stumbled. Pregnant? Why did they ask that ?
“Stay back,” a security guard shouted, but the press ignored him.
So you are pregnant? Is that why the fast wedding?
“No, no. Uh, I’m not-I’m not pregnant,” I stammered. Am I?
The paparazzi pressed closer still, and one male stepped before the security blocked our path. He pushed his camera close to my face . “Did you elope because you’re pregnant or was the wedding secretly held? Why wasn’t your father, Eric Colby, invited? He said he’s looking forward to a reunion.”
I prickled and pressed my lips together.
A police officer appeared and yelled. “Move back. Now.”
The press finally stepped aside, and we rushed forward inside the building.
I took a deep breath when the door closed, and the lobby’s low lighting put me at ease. Ian signed us in, and then we walked down the grey carpet to the elevators.
“We’re early,” Ian announced and pressed the button that lit up with an icon of a steaming cup of coffee to floor 19. We climbed inside, and I wasted the short ride on my father. The thought of seeing him again brought on a feeling of dread that cramped my stomach. There’s no way he’ll stay away from me now that I married a billionaire.
“Are you okay, Adelina?”
I bobbed my head. “Uhm, yeah. The press caught me off-guard.”
Ian gave me a sympathetic look. “That’s what they do, but please don’t let them get to you.”
What he said made sense; besides my father, I had other things to worry about, mainly what my new in-laws thought about us marrying today. Had they expected a marriage at all? They knew my grandparents would never agree to a three-month delay, didn’t they?
The door opened to a complete café lounge, which was not what I expected, though admittedly, I had only been in a few offices. It had a relaxing ambiance with soft lighting and easy-listening music playing at a low volume in the background. A few people were seated at the circular tables and couches, and some were working at computer stations.
We went to the counter, and the aroma of freshly baked banana nut muffins made my mouth water.
“What would you like?” Ian asked.
“Just a chocolate espresso,” I murmured and glanced around.
He placed an order, and we sat down at a table near the window.
I rubbed my neck. “So you’re my lawyer? Since when?”
Ian smiled, and woah, he was so handsome.
I looked away and shook my head.
“Something wrong, Adelina?” he asked.
“Why is everyone so good-looking? It’s weird.”
“It’s a club,” he mused. “You’re also a member, and I didn’t mean that as a flirtation. You’re beautiful, but let’s leave it at that. Now, let’s get down to business.”
I puzzled. “What business?”
He grinned. “Your illustration business.”
I lowered my brows. “Business? Hardly. I illustrated one book.”
The barista came and placed our orders on the table. Ian ordered banana nut muffins, and one of them was on a plate before me. He noticed I wanted one.
I shook my head, smiling, then sipped my chocolate espresso and groaned. “Delicious.”
He put down his cup after a sip. “Yeah. Nothing better than a good cup.”
I took a deep breath. “So what’s up?”
“I’d like to know what made you illustrate a book in college.”
“Really?” My voice rose.
“Yes. I’m fascinated by it.”
I squinted. “You read it?”
He nodded.
My mouth went dry. Does Ian have children? It was a bit too personal to ask someone I just met, but I was curious. Besides that, it had nothing to do with Luca’s will, but I assumed we had time to fill and he wanted to put me at ease.
“My favorite part of The Bumble Bee Ball was the picture of the little bumble bees dressed in their finest flying to the grand Honeycomb ball in Honeyville Springs.”
I let out a chuckle. “So, you have a copy.”
He grinned. “I do. Rocco sent copies of the book to everyone.”
My jaw dropped. “Really? He never mentioned it.” What does everyone mean in Rocco’s world? I had no idea.
“Yes, he did,” he said and opened his briefcase. “One of the ‘everyone’s owns a company. Have you heard of Lily Crane’s Perchance to Dream Publishing?”
I gasped. “What? Seriously? Yes, yes I have heard of Lily Crane.” In fact, everyone knew Lily Crane. She married Paul Crane’s father, Jonas, a famous business mogul. But Lily had fame in her own right. Her world-renowned music charity provided art lessons and sponsorships for children in need. But she meant more to me than that. I felt connected to her in spirit as a survivor of domestic violence.
“Have you seen what’s happened to The Bumble Bee Ball ?” Ian asked, bringing my attention back.
I shook my head.
“Your illustrations are a sensation,” he said, smiling. “Check online.”
I peered at him, a bit skeptical, as I took out my phone and checked. There were loads of new messages from people in my old college email. I zeroed in on at least ten from the author of The Bumble Bee Ball book .
Lauren Willoughby Re:The Bumble Bee Ball is now a bestseller!
I shook my head back and forth and touched my smile. “This is so great for Lauren. I loved her book.”
“Lily wants to know if you’ll consider illustrating more books.”
I gaped at him. “What? Because of this one book?”
“Yes.” He handed me an envelope. “I’ll send a copy via a shared drive. However, let me tell you first: it’s not a job offer, but it’s a start. You’ll need to submit samples.”
My head was spinning, and a rush of excitement and disbelief surged within me. “No way. Is this real?” I pressed my hand to my chest to try to calm my pulse and the out-of-control hammering of my heart, and then I opened the envelope.
“It is, and please tell me you copyrighted your work.”
There was a welcome letter, brochures, and a few samples of short stories. I wanted to explore them all and almost forgot Ian was waiting for my answer. “I did.”
He exhaled a noisy, relieved sigh. “Good. I recommend literary lawyer Holly Logan. Is it okay for me to have her contact you?”
“Uhm, sure,” I said excitedly.
“She’s amazing and trustworthy. If you don’t use her, don’t sign anything until a lawyer looks it over.” His tone was authoritative, and it was clear this was how the men in Rocco’s circle handled most things.
I sucked in the air. “Please, give me a minute so I can calm down without hyperventilating. Oh, my God. So this is real?”
He grinned broadly. “It’s a proposal, and the fact that she already loves your work is a big start.
‘However, handing it to you is the end of my involvement. Rocco hired me and my firm because Mr. Marini’s will is successive and may lead to extensive litigation. I have a good team to manage it. As for your illustration, Lily asked me, and that’s enough. Rocco certainly felt your artwork was worth showcasing.”
Rocco’s support was unwavering. He encouraged me to dream and find my passion and went all in to help it come true. Of course, he hadn’t known that his friends would give me an opportunity, but he told me to take a leap of faith with him.
I eagerly looked through the papers again and even stopped to look at the company’s website. On the website’s home page, a book had become a television series! Though my conscience reminded me that Lily Crane only expressed interest, hiring me wasn’t guaranteed. Still, I skimmed excitedly over one of the sample short stories to illustrate. A little boy had found a magic portal that took him on a journey to a multi-universe. My mind swirled with possibilities as I read further. And I couldn’t help marveling that it all happened because Rocco saw my work. “I’m shocked that Rocco did this, but why tell me today?”
“Because going into a difficult situation feels a lot better when you have a win. Rocco hoped it would boost your confidence in your value as a person,” he explained. “For better or worse, you are Rocco’s wife, a Marini, and future wife of the head of the Marini Empire.”
The magnitude of what was before me was too much. But Rocco was right: I needed to feel secure. That he organized this meeting with Ian amid his busy schedule and at his dear grandfather’s funeral touched me deeply.
A woman in a power suit approached our table. “Excuse me. Everyone has arrived for the meeting.”
Ian smiled at her. “Thank you, Evelyn.”
I tensed as nerves danced in my stomach.
“It’ll all be fine. Rocco will be there, and I know he’ll never allow anyone to hurt you,” Ian assured me.
I peered at him. “How can you be sure of that? I don’t expect him to go against his family for me.”
“Because he adores you,” he said. “Open your eyes, and you’ll see it, too.”
My insides warmed, and my chest fluttered.
We followed Evelyn up to the twenty-fifth floor and down a white stone and glass corridor to a set of double doors with a steel sign that read, “Boardroom.”
“Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom,” I told Ian.
“All right. I’ll wait for you outside so we can go in together.”
I thanked him, then headed to the bathroom in the opposite direction. At the sink, I washed my hands, then powdered my face, clearing away the streaks of tears. I could still see the picture of Rocco kneeling before the coffin, tears streaming down his face. No matter what else had happened today, or what was to come, my heart ached. My dear friend Luca was gone. His kind face floated across my vision. Mia Dolce Adelina. My sweet Adelina. Every time he would say it, I would smile. Heck, even as an ornery teen, he still called me sweet . Laughing and shaking my head, I left the restroom, still reminiscing about the many times I had called him, and he answered with joy as if he was so happy to speak with me.
“Adelina.” My eyes shot up to Rocco’s father, Nico, standing only inches from where I stopped.
What did he want?