Elle had never seen such a plane. She unbuckled her seat belt and stood up, looking around with amusement. A thick carpet covered the floor, large black leather chairs were arranged around the low tables, and a bar was set up in the corner. The entire cabin is the most comfortable place. She turned to her companion, her blue eyes shining with excitement.
“I thought we were going to be on a scheduled flight. I’ve never seen anything like this in my life! Who does it belong to?”
The young man stood by the bar, and watched the girl walk around with interest. She looks so lovely. She is about 1m70 tall, has long blonde hair that is tied up on the top of her head, revealing the lovely features of her face and pretty neck. The cream-colored pants she wore hugged her long slender legs, and her blouson shirt completed her wonderful portrait.
The first time he met her, he honestly wondered if he was doing the right thing. She looked so innocent, damn… he lifted the frames to his mouth and sucked them in. Oh, it won’t be your problem anymore.
A sly smile appeared on his lips as he answered, “This mansion belongs to my uncle; He was a good pilot. But now the weary commissioners here use it to get around.”
“Oh, it looks so chic,” Elle said, taking a seat in one of the soft chairs there.
The last time she went to Sicily was with her father; a small sigh appeared in the memory domain. He was once a professor of ancient Roman history, and also a leader of a labor party, partially excavating a Roman mansion near the small medieval city of Piazza Armerina small town in the province of Enna, in the Italian autonomous region of Sicily
. Her mother died when she was born, and of course she was closer to her father than most other girls her age.
From the age of eight, she often went on vacations to travel with him, not to Italy, then to Sicily. The last time she was with him was when she was 14 years old. The following year he refused to let her come with him, and went alone, returning with a new wife named Maria in September. The following spring, her half-brother was born with the name Andrea. They never went back to Silicy, and it wasn’t until she was 18 that she figured out why.
Trying to push the unpleasant memories out of her mind, she glanced at her boss Stephano Alviani, and forced a smile. During his break, he doesn’t look older than his younger brother Andrea. She recalled how surprised she was when she first met this young Italian in an interview. She had imagined what an advertising executive would look like, but he wasn’t like that at all, more like a pop star. And when he said…
“You’re much cuter than he says.”
Elle, completely confused, replied. “Who said it?”
“I’m sorry Miss Jolie, you have to forgive me. That’s Miss Thomas. She described her to me. Unfortunately I plan on letting my gender mix into English. Even if it’s just talking,” he added, smiling mischievously.
Elle had trembled and laughed along with him, thinking that there was no doubt that with the truth he mentioned it would be difficult for anyone clearer than a man to understand. It was Miss Thomas, the head of the secretarial college who arranged the interview, saying that she needed a bilingual secretary, and that Elle was a good choice for her. That position, having mastered both Italian grammar and vocabulary, and she only needed a week to complete her course.
She loves her job and two months ago in the Garston ad she did a lot to help herself through the overwhelming pain of losing her father and stepmother in a car accident the previous August. A year later it was the weekend that was the first celebration of their funeral. Mary, her office mate, and Mary’s fiancé Pete were very supportive of her, and they both became loyal friends.
Pete always warns her that her master is a wolf in the guise of Romeo. He is Stephano who has dated all the models that enter this company. Pete was convinced that the takeover of the agency two weeks before Elle officially started working there, had been arranged in advance so that Stephano could easily hook up with all the models. It became a perennial joke in the company. In fact, no one knows exactly who bought the company.
Personally, Elle thinks that Stephano is a bit like an adorable cat. They often went out together to business lunches and dinners, and he was always the perfect gentleman. Elle was his translator, but she felt there was a conspiracy here because Stephano spoke English quite well.
Leaning back in her chair, Elle yawned. The last two days have been extremely hectic.
On Tuesday evening, she attended a meeting at the Italian embassy with her boss. They met two other couples there: Diego Fratelli, a business friend of Stephano’s whom Elle had met and found him quite attractive, and his unattractive girlfriend Caterina Belgosa, a brilliant brown-haired white woman much older than Elle. The meeting turned out to be quite long. They continued on to Savoy for dinner, and finally to Stringfellow.
Elle found that evening stressful because a woman older than her immediately seemed to dislike her and she made no attempt to change reality. Most of all, Elle remembered the dinner where she had met Caterina. Only that morning, on the chat page of a popular national newspaper, she saw a picture of Caterina leaving the Rome airport, but the subject of the picture was the man who came to see her off.
Chris Marcello, an obscure Italian industrialist, and someone Elle tried to forget was still alive two days ago. So she felt so relaxed when the evening was over, and though she thought about it a lot now, she realized that Stephano had behaved quite foolishly.
Diego planned to all meet again on Saturday night, and Elle was glad she had a great reason to say no. She had promised to continue the weekend sailing with her friend Robbie. Stephano was of course displeased, and after saying goodnight hastily to the other couple, forcing her out of the club with him, and back home to an old stone house built on the farm, she stayed with her aunt and Andrea in Kent.
The next morning, on the way to work, Elle was surprised to find Stephano there. It was hard to believe because he had never worked before 11 o’clock. Then he dropped his bomb.
He had to attend a conference in Palermo in two weeks, and she had to go with him. He had arranged for them to leave on Saturday morning, and told her to take the day off work to pack up. He would stop by her house at 8:30 and assure her grandmother that she would be well taken care of, and that was it. Before Elle understood what he was saying, he stood up and left, just reminding her not to forget to bring her passport as she walked out the door.
Elle looked out the window, the sun shining on the plane’s wings blinding her. Then Sicily appeared, like a dream, directly below them. She was surprised at how fast the plane flew. There stood Mount Etna, prominent in the eastern part of the island. Black lava flows and small craters are clearly visible near the summit, tapering into lush vineyards and groves at the foot of the slopes, creating a great contrast to the striking colors of the mountains. They.
They landed at Palermo airport. Taking Elle’s passports, Stephano flicked them through customs, and in less than a second they were out of the airport, and he was introducing her to an elderly man standing near a shiny white Mercedes. . Elle appeared during the introduction with a cheerful smile. Then, taking a breath, she exhaled a hot, fragrant breath. She missed the scent of the island: the blend of wine and flowers and the distinctive flavor of the tobacco being lit, so popular with the inhabitants of Sicily.
Sitting in the back seat of the car, she couldn’t see the whole passing scene. Flowers are planted everywhere, the red and white oleanders and crimson geraniums surround the newly built house giving off a golden glow under the bright sun, while the others are completely hidden. Covered with colorful vines.
They were going down a slope, a road lined with trees, and now she remembered she didn’t know where they were going. Leaning back in her chair, she asked Stephano, “You didn’t tell me where we were going to be in Palermo,” then added again. “Are we sure we’ll be here?”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? We won’t be in Palermo, but… will be at a friend’s mansion. She will love it. There is a swimming pool…”
Elle didn’t hear the end of the story, as she regained her composure and looked at the wonderful natural landscape ahead of them. The car went around and stopped in front of an old white building, located in the hills and across from a small cave. It was the most beautiful house she had ever seen.
