Chapter 36
Thirty-Six
When I step off my private plane in Rome, I shade my eyes against the flare of the setting sun. The air is stifling here and my shirt immediately begins to stick to my back.
I’m really on vacation now. That fact makes the corners of my mouth curl up.
“Lord Grayrose?” Natasha asks, dragging a large handbag down the steps. “I’m not sure where the limousine is… it’s supposed to be here already.”
Just like that, my excitement begins to fade. I’m not actually on vacation… I just shoehorned a little sightseeing into what will otherwise be another very boring business trip. At least I don’t have to worry about a particular nosy journalist poking her nose in my affairs.
But that knowledge doesn’t stop my shoulders from drooping just a hair.
Behind us, Ella helps Isla down the stairs. They are chatting about what they are experiencing, all but ignoring me. Fair, since I spent most of the plane ride under a mountain of work.
“Wow!” Isla says, halfway shrieking. “It’s so hot! Did you bring your bathing suit?”
“I definitely packed bathing suits for both of us.” Ella shields her eyes. “Are you going to swim in the ocean?”
“Yes!” Isla says, looking happier than she has for a long time. “It’s nice to be somewhere else.”
The idea strikes me suddenly that maybe staying at Drummond Castle isn’t really in Isla’s best interest. Why that hasn’t ever occurred to me, I’m not sure.
But watching her with Ella, skipping around this tarmac outside Rome, it’s pretty fucking obvious.
I stop on the tarmac, sliding my sleeve up to check my watch. A prickle of anger arises and I glance at Natasha.
“Where is our SUV?”
She opens her mouth to answer, but just then a yellow taxi drives onto the tarmac. Squinting at it, I feel my blood pressure rising as it draws closer. Natasha presses her knuckles to her lips.
“Those idiots at the car rental desk must have screwed it up,” she blurts out. “They hardly spoke any English when I was making the reservations.”
I arch a brow. “How did they mistake an SUV for a yellow taxi?”
“I… I don’t know.” Natasha flushes and sneaks a look at Ella. “You and I should get the first taxi. And then I can call for a second taxi when we arrive at the penthouse.”
“I promised myself I wouldn’t get angry. But this bullshit is throwing a kink in those plans.” I tilt my head. Eyeing Natasha skeptically, I shake my head. “That’s a terrible idea. You and Ella can go ahead. I’ll call for another taxi.”
“Oh, I thought that you would want to work—”
I cut her off. “No.”
Natasha’s brows rise. “Oh. Ummm… let me see if there is still an SUV available…”
Rolling my eyes, I turn to Ella and Isla. Isla is currently running in circles around our little group, arms out wide. Ella jerks her head towards her.
“She’s an airplane.”
“Ah. Of course.” I watch Isla for a minute, shaking my head. “I guess at least she’s going to crash and burn and sleep like a rock tonight.”
Before Ella can answer, Natasha waves her phone around and announces that the SUV should be here in less than a minute. I glare at her, but I focus on being able to get all of our little party into said SUV, along with the luggage.
When I’m safely seated in the SUV, I pull out my phone and browse through the new emails that have popped up in my inbox. Ella and Isla sit in the row behind me, their faces pressed against the window. Out of one ear, I hear them point out things as they see them.
“All the buildings here are old and dusty,” Isla says, her voice disapproving. “It’s gross.”
Ella laughs. “Remember what we talked about?”
“No.”
“You should be open to new experiences,” Ella gently chides her. “I know you can’t fully appreciate this, but just getting to visit Rome is amazing. Most kids don’t get to take these kinds of international trips on their summer break.”
Isla is quiet for a minute. “Where do other people go on their breaks?”
“Well, where I’m from, most people never leave the city at all. So no fancy private planes. No cushy SUVs like the one we are in. My parents don’t just own their own penthouse in basically any city they want to visit.”
“Are your parents poor?”
Ella gives a surprised laugh. “Not at all! Your dad just happens to be a very lucky man.”
I turn around, looking back at my daughter. “That was a rude question.”
My phone chirps in my hand. I look down to find a message from my private investigatory team titled: WENDY ALLEN.
Widening my eyes a little, I quickly scroll through the email. A slow smile spreads across my face as I read the information presented.
My PI team finally found concrete proof of some information that Wendy won’t want anyone talking about. I look back at Ella, satisfaction sparkling in my eyes.
She glances up at me, sees that I’m excited about something. She mouths, “What?” to me.
But I just shake my head. Now is not the time nor the place.
As we drive through the tourist-packed streets of Rome, I find myself in a good mood.
The ancient white stone that makes up most of the buildings here is unique and eye-catching.
The SUV drives down into a more densely populated district.
At one point we pull up at a stoplight and right there before us is the oldest part of Rome, spilled out like ink etched into an ancient map.
The slightly darker roofs are all the same material but all different shapes; domes, steeples, cupolas.
Looking out over the city takes my breath away just a little even though I’ve seen it before dozens of times.
When we finally climb out of the SUV, I can’t look away from the Pantheon. It stands to our left, its neat triangular roof and classic Roman columns the very definition of impressive. It is sucking up all of the air in the broad plaza.
My eyes go to Ella. She’s staring at the building like it is the only one of its kind, though we are surrounded on all sides by ancient architecture on all sides.
I brush her hand with mine. She startles and looks at me with something akin to shell-shock. My lips twitch and she wrinkles her nose at me.
Natasha walks right between us, lugging a heavy bag toward the sidewalk. She seems huffy, although that could be leftover irritation from her screwup at the airport.
I watch her go, shaking my head. When I glance back to Ella, she has a small smile on her face.
“This is my first time in Rome,” she reminds me in a soft tone. “Most of us haven’t had the lavish lifestyle you’ve been afforded.”
“I didn’t say a word.” I shrug a shoulder and clap Isla on the shoulder, ruffling her hair. “Come on. Let’s go inside and put our bags down. Then we can regroup.”
Taking Isla by the hand, I head away from the Pantheon and toward a large marble building on the very opposite end of the large plaza.
It’s a large stone building of only five stories, but it is the better half of a city block in size.
Small groups of tourists flit back and forth before me, too busy looking at their maps to notice the small entourage that trails me, bringing the luggage along.
When I walk up to the building, massive glass doors open. A small bald-headed man in a pristine blue uniform bows, greeting me.
“Lord Grayrose. Welcome to Rome. I hope your flight was a pleasant one. I am Lorenzo, your concierge for the day. Please, step inside La Rosa.”
Isla moves a little closer to me, her eyes narrowing on the stranger. I embrace her, smiling at the concierge, and walk through the oversized doorway.
A hush falls all around me. Here, just steps away from the hustle and bustle outside, is NewsCorp’s suite of offices in Rome.
The lobby is sleek and tastefully designed, the colors of off-white marble and darker earthy gray from outside replicated to full effect here.
Dark gray benches and couches create a frame for off-white draperies and larger light fixtures.
Lorenzo sweeps us past all of it, striding purposefully to a dark gray marble bank of elevators. He swipes a keycard and presses a button. An elevator door opens and he escorts us inside, riding up to the fifth floor with us.
I step out into a hallway. To the left, there are a number of NewsCorp suites, kept empty for visiting dignitaries and NewsCorp executives.
Lorenzo gives a slight bow and ushers us right, down a hallway that leads to my private residence. With another swipe of his keycard, Lorenzo opens the door into a faintly fragrant, air-conditioned blast of air. I sweep into the living room area of the Grayrose’s residence.
Ella stops and looks around, goggling. Straight ahead is a bank of floor to ceiling windows that look out over the Pantheon.
Between her and those windows is a sumptuous off-white set of couches and a lounge area.
Several wine glasses sit on a low table, some expensive wine in an ice bucket just beside them.
“Where may I place your bags, Lord Grayrose?” Lorenzo asks.
I sweep my gaze around the place, smirking.
“My things go in the master bedroom…”
Natasha jumps in, dictating to Lorenzo. “I think it would be best for me to have the bedroom just next to his. And then you can put the rest of the bags… wherever.”
I glance at my assistant, squinting. At this point, I’m not sure why she is purposely trying to put distance between my daughter, Ella, and me. But I’m getting sick of it.
“No. Please put my daughter’s things in the bedroom next to mine. Put Ella’s in whatever bedroom she fancies. And then if you would be so kind, take Natasha’s belongings across the hall. I want her to have a private suite to herself.”
“I want to see my room!” Isla shouts. “If it has a big bed, I wanna jump on it!”
“Far be it for me to stop her,” I say, a tiny headache gathering right between my eyes. Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I sigh. “Can you have a dinner reservation made for us tonight? Somewhere that my daughter will be welcome.”
“Yes, of course,” Lorenzo says.
Natasha tilts her head at me, her cheeks flushing as she raises a brow. But she doesn’t say anything.
Lorenzo bows. “Of course. Consider it done.”
“We should go check in downstairs,” Natasha suggests. “If we dive into work first thing, we can be done more quickly.”
My gaze slides to Ella, who is peeking her head inside a bedroom.
“Set all my meetings for tomorrow morning. I want to take some time for myself.”
Natasha looks surprised. “But you like to work.”
My head whips around and I give her a tiny glare. “I think you mistook what I just said I wanted for a request. It’s not. It’s an order.”
Natasha flushes and bows her head. “Sir. I’m going to go reschedule those meetings right now.”
My lips twitch as I watch her scurry out into the hall. Turning around, I open my arms. Ella looks at me, her expression questioning.
“Ready to explore Rome?” I ask.
She grins and nods. “Definitely.”