Chapter 25
We arrived in Venice, and my car was already waiting at the airport. I always travel with a driver and security here in my country—I was attacked once, and after that, my mother insisted I hire protection and buy the jet to avoid the highways, which were also dangerous.
Not to mention it makes my life so much easier—what used to be a two or three-hour trip now takes just one, and it's far more comfortable.
I'll be hosting Emma and Samantha at my place.
I've already asked my housekeeper to prepare their rooms and arranged a car for them to use whenever they want to go out.
We get in the car and head to my house. When we arrive, I notice Emma taking everything in with curiosity. She turns to me and says:
“This is what you call a house?”
“Yes, this is my house. It's been passed down through generations—all I did was renovate it to make it more modern. Francesca will show you to your rooms,” I say, pointing to a woman waiting for us at the door. She greets them in perfect English.
“Oh, how lovely to have visitors! Welcome, ragazze. I'll show you to your rooms, and then you can come back down—lunch will be ready soon.”
“Hello, thank you so much. Your English is perfect!”
“We had to learn—the boys were raised abroad most of their lives, so we picked it up from them.
This is Miss Emma's room. The boss's room is right there at the end of the hall, and Miss Samantha, you'll be staying in this one.
Make yourselves at home, take a shower, rest up—I'll send for you when lunch is ready.”
“Thank you so much, ma'am.”
I'm in my office. I need to finish dealing with the issue at the restaurant in Canada—I'm not in the mood to fly out there, especially now that Emma is here. My meeting ran longer than expected. That's when I hear a knock at the door, and Francesca walks in.
“I'm having lunch served now, mio caro. You can finish your work afterward.”
“Just give me a few more minutes, mamma. I'm almost done—I'll be right there.”
“Five minutes, that's it. You need to eat and take a break from work, marmocchio[31].”
She leaves after that. I glance at the screen, and Renan is laughing at what my mamma just called me. Francesca has taken care of me and my brothers since we were babies, so I treat her like my mother. She's been with the family for years, and I love her as if she were a Bianchi.
“Tell me the joke so I can laugh too.”
“You're an idiot, you know that? Go have lunch—we'll finish our meeting after. If I know Francesca, she hasn't even left the doorway.”
“I bet when I open it, she'll be standing right there waiting for me. Either way, try to handle this without me having to fly out there. I didn't hire you to manage my business in Canada for nothing—so do your job.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Call me if anything urgent comes up, and let's nail whoever's behind this. Talk later.”
I hang up, get up from my chair, and walk to the door. Sure enough, mamma is standing right there, just like I told Renan. I smile and say:
“You could have sat down inside. You're too old to be standing around waiting.”
“Ah, cattivo ragazzo cresciuto[32].”
I hug her and kiss her on the cheek. I know she doesn't like the affection, which is exactly why I do it—to tease her.
Francesca has always been important in my life.
When my mother wanted to move out after my father died, I asked mamma to stay with me, and she agreed.
Now she runs everything here, from managing the maids to planning the daily menu.
I arrive at the table to find the girls sitting and chatting, waiting for me. Emma has a beautiful smile on her face—she looks happy.
“Mattia, your house is beautiful, at least from what I've seen so far.”
“As soon as we finish lunch, I'll show you the rest.”
Today's menu features salad, asparagus risotto, ossobuco, and tiramisu for dessert—all typical Italian dishes. The girls seem to love it, praising every course.
“Lunch was delicious. Thank you so much, Francesca.”
“One of mio ragazzo Mattia's favorites.”
“Well, shall we tour the house so you can see everything?”
Emma smiles, excited to see everything, and so we begin.
I show them the kitchen first—it's very well equipped and my favorite room.
I love cooking there and testing new recipes.
Then the living room with its huge sofa, a home theater, the office, and a room where I keep some family artwork.
On the opposite side are the staff quarters, where they can rest or sleep if they want.
On the second floor are the guest rooms, and my room is down the hall on the other side.
The third floor is closed off—that's where my father used to paint.
We decided to keep it shut and leave everything exactly as it was. We haven't touched a thing.
My house, as I call it, is actually a palace built in the thirteenth century.
It has three floors, made entirely of stone and wood, and an enormous, beautiful garden overlooking a lake that's part of Venice's canals.
Since it's private property, visitors aren't allowed.
I grew up there, and when my father passed away, my mother didn't want to stay, but since it was the place I called home, I decided to remain.
I set her and my brothers up with an apartment and renovated the entire house, making it more elegant and modern.
“I'm enchanted. Despite the renovation, you managed to preserve the old style, and it turned out beautiful.”
“I'm glad you think so. That was exactly the intention—to preserve the original construction and style while adding comfort and modern conveniences.”
“I can imagine how much this house means to you. It's wonderful.”
“Yes, and it saddens me that my mother couldn't stay, but I understand. This is where she built her family, and she loved my father. After he was gone, nothing made sense to her anymore.”
“I can imagine how difficult that was for her. I lost my father too, and my mother took a long time to get over it. But let's talk about happier things—I love this garden.”
I look around and see all the flowers my mother planted, the trees that now provide pleasant shade, the benches, the lawn. Everything remains as she left it. I try to maintain it the way she did, and so far I've managed. Then I hear Emma say:
“A wedding here would be beautiful.”
I can already picture myself marrying her in this beautiful garden.
“Yes, it would be perfect.”
But would it ever happen? Would I marry her? The thought lingers in my mind. I don't know her feelings yet, and I still haven't spoken about mine. Then we exchange glances, and that's when Samantha arrives.