The Billionaires' Club: Return of Her Italian Duke (The Billionaire’s Club) / Bound to Her Greek Billionaire (The Billionaire’s Club) / Whisked Away by Her Sicilian Boss (The Billionaire’s Club). Rebecca Winters
of the day the three of them brainstormed.
“Now that we’ve talked things out, there’s one favor I must ask. I intend to be the silent business partner in this venture and prefer to remain anonymous because of the family scandals.”
Their solemn acknowledgment of his request warmed him and he knew they’d honor his request.
“Now, you can imagine that when word gets out that the castello has been sold and turned into a resort by two businessmen from the US, the press will be all over it. Dimi will send me the necessary information and put you in touch with the contact person to get the ball rolling.
“If we do decide to go into business together, I’ll expect you two to do the negotiating. Naturally I’ll supply the money needed so we can get started on the renovations right away.”
Cesare smiled. “The duca’s return.”
“No, Cesare. I don’t want my title mentioned. That’s not for public consumption.” He couldn’t escape the title he’d inherited by being his father’s son, but in time he intended to renounce it legally through the court system. And I’ll find Gemma if it kills me. Over the last ten years, no search had turned up any evidence of her.
“Understood.” Cesare eyed him seriously. “When we first met at university, I always knew there was a lot more to you, but I couldn’t put my finger on it and didn’t dare ask for fear of insulting you.”
“Now it’s all making sense,” Takis admitted. “Your English is too perfect, and you’re far more sophisticated and knowledgeable than anyone else I know.”
“Your friendship has meant the world to me. Let’s hope for success in our new venture.”
Takis sat back in the chair. “Edmond Dantes had nothing on you, Vincenzo Gagliardi.”
Florence, Italy, present day
The bulletin board of the Florentine Epicurean School of Hospitality and Culinary Arts listed the latest career openings across four continents for their recent graduates to investigate.
At twenty-seven years of age, Gemma had finally received her long-awaited certification with the much-coveted first-place blue ribbon, and she hurried down the corridor toward the office. Everyone wanted to apply for the most prestigious position posted. She didn’t know what her chances were, but it didn’t matter. Her hard, grueling years of schooling were over, and she would find a position that guaranteed her a new life so she could prove herself.
She wanted to pay back her mother’s family, who’d taken them in after they’d been thrown out of the Castello di Lombardi. Her relationship with Vincenzo years ago had put her family in such dire straits, it had ruined her mother’s career. Gemma felt the responsibility heavily, because she hadn’t heeded her mother’s warnings that a commoner didn’t mingle with royalty. But those days were behind her.
With students gathered around the bulletin board, it was hard to get close enough to write down the information. Later the lists would be put online, but she was too impatient and took pictures of the various announcements with her cell phone.
Her best friend Filippa Gatti, who’d gone through pastry school with Gemma, had the same idea. They made plans to talk later before she hurried off. Gemma found a bench farther along the corridor and sat down to study everything but gave up because she couldn’t concentrate with so much noise.
Once outside, she got in her old blue car and headed back to her aunt’s apartment two miles away. Her mother’s sister owned the hundred-year-old Bonucci family bakery and ran it with her married daughter. When Gemma and her mother had fled to Florence, her aunt had let them live in the apartment above the bakery.
Her aunt was goodness itself and had put her mother to work. She had also helped Gemma get a scholarship to attend cooking school, because her mother’s funds were so low. Her cousin was wonderful, too, and they all got along.
Once she had started culinary school, Gemma had helped out in the bakery every day after classes. The culinary school required ten years of apprenticeship. After high school she’d begun her training there. Now that she’d graduated, it was important she start paying her aunt back for letting them live there and helping to get them on their feet after being kicked out of the castello.
Today she dashed up the back stairs to the door off the porch. Gemma couldn’t wait to call her mom and aunt and tell them she’d been chosen the top graduate in her class. After they’d shown such faith in her, Gemma was thrilled that her hard work had paid off.
But of course, it would happen that her mother and aunt had just left to go on a well-deserved vacation to the United Kingdom with friends, their first in years. They wouldn’t be back for three weeks, because their trip included England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland. Such good news from the school had filled Gemma with joy. She would have to phone her mamma, Mirella, immediately.
Now that she’d received her certification, she was anxious to find a fabulous job and move out. She planned for her mother to go with her. They’d find a small, affordable apartment. Her mother could stop working and enjoy her life while her daughter earned the living.
After grabbing her favorite fruit soda from the fridge, Gemma sank down on the chair at the small kitchen table and phoned her mamma. Frustrated when she got her voice mail, Gemma asked her to phone her back ASAP because she had exciting news.
Next, she scrolled through her photo gallery to the information she’d recorded on her cell. To her utmost disappointment, none of the eighteen openings for pastry chefs were in France, the place where she’d had her heart set on working.
Both the French and the Italians thought they produced the finest chefs. As her mother and aunt had told her, because she was a woman, she’d have an even harder time breaking into a top five-star restaurant in either country. Women chefs still struggled for equality. One day she would get a position on the Côte d’Azur. But for now she needed a job right away!
Trying to manage her disappointment, she studied each opening one at a time: five in Spain, three in England, one in Liechtenstein, two in Australia, three in Japan, three in Canada, one in Italy.
Since it couldn’t be France, nothing else thrilled her, but she studied the requirements for the various openings.
It wasn’t until she came to the last posting, from Italy, that Gemma was shaken to the core. She thought she’d read it wrong. The shock had her jumping up from the couch. She read the words again, attempting to quell the frantic pounding of her heart.
Location: Milan, Italy. Fourteenth-century castello and former estate of the deceased Duca di Lombardi, Salvatore Gagliardi. Grand opening of the five-star Castello Supremo Hotel and Ristorante di Lombardi, July 6.
July 6 was only four weeks away. She read on.
Résumés for executive chef and executive pastry chef are being accepted. See list of requirements. Only those with the proper credentials need apply.
Gemma came close to fainting when she thought of Vincenzo. The fact that he’d disappeared without even saying goodbye had caused an anger in her that, even now, she was still trying to suppress. He’d told her he was in love with her and that one day they’d find a way to be married.
After he’d vanished, she’d felt so used. What a fool she’d been to believe he could love the daughter of a cook! How naive of her to think the duca-to-be would consider an alliance with an underling like Gemma. In her dream world they’d been equals and anything was possible. But once Vincenzo’s father had tossed her and her mother out like a heap of garbage, she’d received the wake-up call of her life. It had shaken her world forever.
As she read the announcement again, something twisted painfully inside her. The castello, an icon over the centuries that had been her home until the age of seventeen, had now been turned into a hotel and restaurant. She tried to understand how such a thing could have happened to the family with its succession of duchi for over two hundred years.
Gone was their birthright