Finding out that Casa Firenze, this grand hotel, was in need of more receptionists was a shock. Finding out that the CEO of the hotel was Luca—the gorgeous man I'd met yesterday—was something else entirely.
Luca stared at me with a dangerous smirk, as though he'd anticipated my arrival. He must have. I'd told him my name, and now, I didn't even know what to say.
"Surprised?" he chuckled.
I slowly nodded. "I can't say that I'm not," I admitted.
He nodded in return. "You should sit. Let's begin." He gestured to the chair opposite him, and I sat down. He clicked on his computer, probably pulling up my résumé.
"Ms. Ella." His voice was devoid of amusement now—this was business. "Why do you want to work as a receptionist at Casa Firenze?"
I thought about the question. If I was being honest, being a receptionist had never been my dream. I wanted to own a spa and a beautiful unisex boutique, but neither of those ideas was within reach right now.
"Well..." I started, unsure of how to answer. "I'm a people person, always drawn to hospitality. I enjoy working with others and making them happy." Even if it was at the expense of my own happiness. "I'm kind, too, and I have soft facial features."
He chuckled at my last sentence, and I offered a small smile.
"But you do know that being a receptionist isn't just about smiling and making people happy, right?" he said. "It requires multitasking. Have you ever handled a difficult customer before?"
I hesitated. I’d never handled a customer before. Even before marriage, I had always been an indoor woman, and after marriage, Michele had only wanted a housewife—not a worker.
"No," I admitted. "But I’d know how to. Handling a difficult customer isn’t about being difficult yourself. You listen, apologize for whatever minor inconvenience they’re upset about, and then offer a solution. You be the bigger person."
Luca’s eyes twinkled with approval. "Lovely answer, especially considering you haven’t done this before." He leaned back. "What would you do if a guest arrived without a reservation, and we were fully booked?"
I considered the situation carefully. "I'd empathize with them, acknowledge their frustration, and then try to help. First, I'd check for any last-minute cancellations. If there were none, I’d suggest a nearby hotel or even assist them in making a reservation elsewhere."
Luca nodded, seemingly impressed. He asked a few more questions, which I answered confidently. When he inquired about my preferred shift, I told him I was open to both. I didn't have another job, and the last thing I needed was to be stuck at home. Eventually, he decided I would alternate shifts.
And at the end of the day, I’d secured a job as a hotel receptionist.
---
A few days later, I found myself behind the sleek brown desk, working the night shift. I had started immediately and had already made a few friends. The other female receptionists were lovely and kind.
I sat down, exhausted from dealing with both difficult and easygoing guests. Being a hotel receptionist wasn’t easy, but it was fun. It kept my mind occupied and gave me the chance to observe people. Italy as a whole was beautiful, and I'd purchased a cozy bungalow in a quiet neighborhood.
I was living my best life.
But something told me it wouldn’t last.
"Hello?"
The deep voice pulled me out of my reverie, and I immediately sat up.
"Buongiorno, welcome to Casa Firenze," I greeted with a warm smile. I’d even learned the Italian way of welcoming guests.
"A room for the night, please," he said.
I worked quickly on the laptop, searching for an available room. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the man adjusting the camera strap around his neck and rummaging through his bag.
"Cash or card?" I asked.
He handed me his card but suddenly pulled it back before I could take it.
"You're Michele Ricci’s wife?!" His voice was loud, and my smile instantly vanished.
Jessica, my neighbor, had just walked back to the desk and witnessed the exchange. She looked at me, confused.
"Are you paying with your card?" I asked, dismissing his comment and praying he wasn’t a paparazzo. Not many people knew me, but I had attended galas and events with Michele. Only the press would have recognized me.
"Why are you in Italy? Have you and Michele divorced?" He leaned over the desk, his curiosity turning aggressive.
I instinctively leaned back, startled by his invasive behavior.
"Excuse me, sir, but if you’re not here to check in, please leave." My voice was steady, but my hands trembled beneath the desk.
"I should take a picture," he muttered, raising his camera.
Before he could press the shutter, a burly security guard appeared out of nowhere, grabbed the camera, and smashed it onto the floor. The man let out a loud cry, mourning the loss of his device. The guard then seized him by the arm and dragged him away.
I exhaled sharply, finally able to breathe again.
"Are you okay?" Jessica asked, concern etched on her face.
I mustered a small smile. "I'm fine. Thank you." I shook my head. "Paparazzi… always digging into things that don’t concern them."
"Right? I hate them so much." Jessica’s expression darkened, shifting from concern to something bitter and sad. "Because of them... I..."
Without thinking, I pulled her into a hug.
"It's okay," I whispered. I didn’t know what was wrong, but I sensed that she just needed to hear those words.
---
After my shift ended at midnight, I changed back into my dress and left the hotel. I hadn’t seen or heard from Luca all day. He was probably busy.
I walked through the pedestrian area, waiting for a taxi when suddenly—
The man from earlier appeared.
"Because of you, I lost my camera!" he yelled.
The road was mostly empty, with only a few cars passing by. I was a fair distance from the hotel now, and the realization sent a chill down my spine.
He bent down, grabbed a stone, and was about to strike me when a strong hand snatched his wrist and shoved him back.
It was Luca.
Luca stepped on his feet and pressed in, hearing the man's roar. "You're lucky you didn't dare to touch her, or else you would have walked out of here a corpse "
I gasped—I had never seen this side of Luca before.
He released the man, his expression unreadable as he turned to me. Then, without hesitation, he seized my wrist and led me to his car.
I had just watched him threaten a man’s life—yet I felt no fear.
Or maybe that was because my gut told me something far worse was coming.
Soon.
