Viviana - chapter 1
I sifted through the various portfolios on my desk, searching for a potential interior designer. As I flipped through the same tired 'classic' 19th-century designs, my mouth gaped open with a wide yawn.
None of it was what I envisioned, none of it was how I wanted
my
resort to be.
After blowing out the candles on my forty-fifth birthday cake this year, I knew I needed a change. I needed at least one d*mn moment in my life to feel truly mine.
I've been the owner of my dad's resort for ten years now, but it still felt like I was an over-privileged brat who lucked out by inheriting it from my late father.
Don't get me wrong; I loved my dad more than anything. But I'm sure even he would have wanted me to make this business my own and not just live in his giant shadow of success.
Frustrated with the entire interior design industry and the lack of creativity in designers these days, I tossed the papers back onto the mahogany desk.
"Knock, knock," Alessandro said walking through the open door and into the room, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. He handed it to me with a warm smile.
He was such a sweetheart, always looking out for me whenever I was overworked and stayed late at the resort. He’d even drive me home on those nights when exhaustion hit me like a freight train.
"Thanks," I said, sipping the hot beverage. The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans permeated the air.
He leaned against the edge of my desk and looked at the discarded papers strewn across it.
"What's all this, my
Patatina
?" he asked, holding up one of the portfolios.
I peered over the rim of the cup, my eyes meeting his green orbs. "It's nothing important. It didn't work anyway." I set the cup down with a heavy sigh.
He reached out and tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear, just as he'd done since I knew him back in middle school.
"What happened?" he asked, his brow furrowing with genuine concern.
I leaned back in my leather chair, which squeaked in response, and groaned. "I just... I just wanted to redesign the villas in the resort."
He tilted his head, causing some of his wavy, salt-and-pepper hair to fall over his eyes. "Why would you want to do that? The resort is minting money right now, especially since you hired that influencer to advertise for it."
I fidgeted with the bracelets adorning my wrist. "I know, but... I just need a change."
"From what?" he questioned.
"Everything," I mumbled under my breath.
"Excuse me?"
I cleared my throat. "I just want to update the villas, and modernize them a bit."
He crossed his arms over his muscular chest, which you could still see even when he wore a suit. A thoughtful expression crossed his features.
"Updating things is never a bad idea," he murmured.
He smiled softly at me and playfully pinched my cheek. "So, why'd you say it's not working out?"
I huffed. "None of the interior designers I contacted are the right fit. They all just have the same old repetitive styles that I've seen a dozen times."
He picked up the scattered portfolios and straightened them into a neat pile, which he held in his hands.
"I know an interior designer, but he's really out there, like way out there," he said.
I raised a pencil-thin eyebrow, which I regretted over-tweezing in my youth, "How out there are we saying?"
He shifted the stack of papers to one hand and shoved the other into his blazer pocket, pulling out his phone. It took him about a minute of scrolling before he finally found what he was looking for.
He turned the screen to face me and showed me the most unusual and captivating design I'd ever seen. It was full of varying colours and textures that you hardly ever see together, yet there was an elegance that even the traditional designs didn't have.
I looked up at Alessandro. "This is absolutely brilliant!"
"He's a new German designer based here in Italy. He combines Bohemian and Art Deco," Alessandro chuckled at my enthusiasm.
I stood up, feeling too excited to keep still, and paced around the room.
"Contact him right now, this very minute," I bubbled.
Alessandro laughed, a deep, hearty sound echoing through the room. "Alright, alright, my
Patatina
."
I watched excitedly as he marched out of the room to make the arrangements. Alessandro was by far the best assistant one could ever have.
I walked over to the large window of my office, which overlooked the rest of the resort. I stared at the little villas dotting the property, a renewed sense of hope bubbling in my stomach.
The resort had been my father’s pride and joy, and I had been content running it as he had, following the blueprint he left behind. But now, for the first time, I felt an urge to infuse my own vision into it. I wanted to create a space that reflected my tastes, my ideas, and my dreams. Something vibrant, something new.
I glanced back at the desk, at the old portfolios stacked neatly by Alessandro. It was time to leave those behind, to embrace something innovative and daring. The Bohemian and Art Deco fusion felt like the perfect direction—bold, eclectic, and alive with personality.
Alessandro returned, his face lit with his usual charming smile. "The designer said he'd meet with you tomorrow to review the villas first before he agrees to anything."
I nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude for him. He had been my rock, my confidant, through all the ups and downs of running the resort. And now, as I embarked on this new chapter, I knew he would be right there by my side, supporting me every step of the way.
The sun was setting outside, casting a golden glow over the landscape. I took a deep breath, savouring the moment. This was the beginning of something wonderful, something that would finally make the resort—and my life—truly my own.
By the time tomorrow rolled around I practically jumped out of bed as soon as the sun started peaking over the horizon.
I rushed through my usual morning routine, skipping makeup and showering and instead washed my face and spritzed on copious amounts of perfume. I knew that I had more than enough time to get ready properly and come out looking my finest, but I was just too eager.
Besides, it didn't really matter if I looked my best or not; I wasn't headed to the runway and no one really gives a d*mn about how you look when you reach my age.
I shimmied into a golden skirt suit that complimented my olive complexion and helped my wavy brown hair into a high, neat bun.
I raced down the stairs of the family estate which also came along with the business I inherited since I was the eldest in my family of six siblings.
"Alessandro," I speak into the phone as I walk towards the garage, "Is he at the resort yet?"
Alessandro's voice croaks over the receiver, hinting that he has just woken up, "My
Patatina
why are you up so early?"
"The early bird gets the worm and I need that worm," I slide into the car and mount the phone in its holder, putting the call on speaker so that I can drive.
"He won't even be there yet. Go back to bed," He groans.
"Too late, I'm already on the road to the resort."
He chuckles groggily, "I wonder how you stay so beautiful when you never get any beauty sleep."
I roll my eyes at the silly compliment, "So is he there yet?"
"Let me check."
Alessandro goes quiet and I drive in silence for a moment.
"Surprisingly enough he's already waiting at the resort," He starts speaking once again, "He's at the reception desk."
I grip the wheel excitedly and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to go over the city speed limit.
"Thanks a million Alessandro," I smile.
I hear the sound of a kiss as he blows me one through the speaker, "You're welcome
Patatina
."
I laugh at my best friend's antics and hang up.
In just ten more minutes the resort finally comes into view and I race through the entrance, parking the car at an angle before racing out towards the reception.
I clutch the straps of my handbag as I rush through the resort reception.
I take note of a young man standing beside the window overlooking the villas with his back turned to me. He was a tall, blonde in a loose-fitting white button-up that still couldn't conceal the muscles rippling through his wide frame. He was definitely the German designer.
I straighten up my hair before walking over to him and tapping his shoulder with a featherlight touch, "Sorry to keep you waiting."
He slowly turns around to face me, his familiar piercing blue eyes stabbing into mine.
James?
James
Bored, bored, bored, bored...
I listened to a potential client prattling on about the 'rich history' of his family estate as he walked me through the two-story house. My senses were heightened, every creak of the floorboard was almost overwhelming.
I glanced around at the uninspiring white walls and tiny windows that barely let in any light, feeling stifled in the claustrophobic spaces.
"Here's the only room in the house we don't want to be redecorated, the library," the elderly man twittered as he gestured towards a large room.
I furrowed my brow, "Why is that?"
He faltered for a moment, clearly surprised by my question, "Excuse me?"
"Why not this room?" I stepped inside the open space. The scent of old books and dust filled my nostrils, making me slightly nauseous.
"Oh, we wanted to preserve its pristine historical condition," he clarified.
Yeah, this wasn't going to work.
"Sorry, but I either do the entire house or nothing," I shoved my hands into my trouser pockets asserting my decision with indifference.
He stammered, "B-But surely you understand why we don't want to redecorate the library? It's been the exact same way for two generations."
"And they had bad taste," I ran my hand across a dusty and tasteless rectangular shelf, suppressing a growl of disgust.
He irritatedly pushed his glasses higher up his birdlike nose, "I'll have you know young man that my great-grandfather was
a Duca
."
"And why should I give a d*mn about your great-grandfather's status?" I raised an irritated eyebrow.
He scoffed, both in shock and annoyance, "Never in my life have I been spoken to in such a..."
"And never in my life have I seen a more hideous library," I interrupted, my patience wearing thin.
D*mn rich people and their airs
His olive skin started to tinge with hues of red as her irritation surfaced, "How dare you say such a thing about the home my family has resided in for generations?"
I crossed my arms, "The same way you dared to call me all the way here just to say you don't want me to redecorate the whole house. In my opinion, that's more disrespectful."
He immediately started to rant about the d*mn house and his d*mn heritage, which I just drowned out as I started to walk out. Clawing up the social ladder had taught me to prioritize my own needs and instincts above unnecessary drama.
I had clients coming out of my ears, clients who paid me at least one hundred thousand euros to redesign their homes. Losing one client was no skin off my nose. In fact, I was sure that I'd get another in a matter of minutes.
As I exited the eyesore of a house and slid into my Maserati, I buckled up, ready to go, when my phone started vibrating in my pocket. I plunged my hand in and pulled out the ringing phone.
I smirked to myself as I looked down to see my assistant phoning me, sure that it was a new client coming my way.
"I'm listening," I leaned back in the driver's seat as I spoke on the phone, trying to keep the impatience out of my voice.
"It's a new client," my assistant, Maria, said, confirming what I had already expected.
"Of course it is, but what is it exactly?"
Her airy voice crackled through the speaker as she spoke with enthusiasm, "It's a contract to redesign the villas for a resort. They're paying one hundred thousand euros per villa, that's eight hundred thousand euros."
I tapped on the dashboard as I considered the offer. It was definitely worth looking into for that amount of money, but at the same time, what really mattered was whether or not they'd inspire me. I needed a challenge, something to keep my blood pumping and mind busy.
"I'll meet with them tomorrow, Maria. Just email me the details," I instructed before hanging up.
As the next day rolled around, I was up before the crack of dawn and drove down to the resort to get an early start. I wanted to look over each one of the villas carefully before I made any hasty decisions.
When I arrived, I patiently waited for the owner at the reception, and after thirty minutes passed by, I found my patience wearing thin.
I walked over to the large windows that overlooked the property dotted with quaint Italian villas, trying to get a feel for the project when I felt a tap on my shoulder which sent my entire body buzzing with electricity.
I furrowed my brow in response to the old feeling I had felt nearly two decades ago, suddenly creeping through my body. My senses picked up the familiar scent of perfume before I even turned around.
It couldn't be
.
I held my breath as I slowly spun around, my heart pounding in my chest, only to come face to face with the same pair of brown eyes that had captured my soul long ago.
There she stood, my beloved, my eternal soulmate; the woman I had been searching for, the woman who drove me to push myself to success. My beautiful Viviana.
I wanted to reach out and take her into my arms the same way I did back in our youth when the world revolved around her and me. But how could I when she had witnessed my death twenty years ago?
Would she understand my resurrection from the dead?
