2,99 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Booker
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
Sometimes a season will change your life.
A sparkling season born of a friendship that will change your destiny forever.
Rachel's life was not going well between her boyfriend's betrayal and the prospect of being fired from her dream job. Emma lived in a gilded cage, surrounded by the affection of her family, but she dreamed of freedom and love, TRUE LOVE. Abigail was looking for her place in the world, but her insecurities prevented her from expressing herself fully. Then one day, Rachel, Emma, and Abigail met and became friends - a friendship that made their lives glorious and lively, prompting Rachel to climb the stairway to success, Emma to find the love of her life, and Abigail to become independent. But every change is followed by great disarray and not everything has gone the right way. Between intrigues, fun adventures, glamorous evenings, and spicy encounters will Rachel, Emma, and Abigail be able to conquer the world and live their glitter season?
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
Ähnliche
Victory Storm
Glitter Season
Table of contents
Glitter Season Victory Storm
PART ONE Encounters
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
PART 2 Two years later
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.
31.
32.
33.
34.
35.
36.
37.
38.
39.
40.
41.
42.
43.
44.
45.
46.
47.
48.
49.
50.
51.
Glitter Season
Victory Storm
Text copyright © 2021 Victory Storm
http://www.victorystorm.com
Translator (ita --> eng): Maria Burnett
Cover: © Cover Art by IM COVER Studio
This is a work fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or disseminated by any means, photocopies, microfilm or otherwise, without the author's permission.
OTHER BOOKS:
The Sweet Poison Of RevengeBroken RulesIn Love With A StarA Star In My Life Touch MeHurracane LoveGlitter SeasonYou Are MineI Have You NowPART ONE
Encounters
1
"Breathe and retake control!" Rachel ordered to her reflection in the mirror, trying to stop the tears that were pushing to come out.
“ I can't cry! Not for an asshole like Matt! And not in the office bathroom!” she thought furiously, trying to catch the first tear that threatened to ruin her makeup.
She took a deep breath and tried to think of something else, but today it seemed that nothing wanted to go the right way.
It was her last day on the job and no one from HR had contacted her to talk about contract renewal or anything. She was terribly upset. She had worked hard for six months, splitting her job as an editor and part-time secretary for Norman Carter, the founder of Carter House, Portland's largest non-fiction publisher.
She was convinced that she had created a perfect understanding with her boss. They had talked a lot about the future and the publishing world. Norman had confided that the last few quarters had been disastrous, compared to seven years ago.
She had suggested that he expand his readership by introducing a fiction series, but Norman was immediately opposed, because he did not consider novelists to be true writers.
For him, writing was a talent destined for a few and for educational or popularizing purposes. Novels, especially commercial ones, were class C, even if he could not say anything about the turnover that was made thanks to the works of these "pseudo-writers," as he defined them.
During those months Rachel had nevertheless felt a certain affinity with her boss, especially when he had asked if she could replace his secretary who was sick and could only work a few hours, until she finished her chemotherapy.
Rachel had considered it an honor for her to work alongside such a prominent figure in the publishing world, even if she had never been interested in a secretarial job. She had worked hard to always be impeccable, and Norman had often expressed his appreciation with his beautiful, seductive smiles that made all the female employees' hearts beat faster.
“ He could be your father,” Rachel repeated to herself, thinking back to how dumbfounded she had always been in front of the man's charisma and charm.
Was it possible that someone who was always as kind and bewitching like Norman Carter just made fun of her?
Was it possible that in one month she had been deceived by two men with fake promises?
Matt also had always made her feel special during their three year relationship.
He too had never expressed disappointment or dissatisfaction with her busy working hours. Yet three weeks earlier she had found him in bed - in their bed - with a client of his.
He hadn't even tried to apologize or invent an excuse. Nothing.
He just told her that he would be moving soon.
The next day, when she got home from work, she couldn't find his things.
Not even a note or a message.
He had only left her the rent to pay.
And now she didn't even have a job to support herself anymore.
"What will become of me?" she thought, bursting into tears and covering her eyes to block her image in the mirror.
In those weeks she had drowned her sorrows in food and had gained four pounds.
That morning, she had barely managed to slip into her beloved black Dior asymmetrically cut midi skirt and close the buttons of her white Caractère silk shirt with flared cuffs.
"Everything good?" a female voice asked from behind, making her jump.
She quickly wiped away her tears and turned away.
In front of her was Abigail, the intern everyone called "The Photocopy Girl."
She had been there for a couple of months, but they had never spoken, except for a brief greeting. Often she had felt that Abigail avoided or feared her.
Besides, she had the feeling that she had already seen her: blonde, with huge blue eyes, barely five feet tall, always dressed in a jaunty style, with a vintage French cut.
Some claimed she was underage, but actually she was twenty-one, even if the excessive use of flat flats, capri-style trousers and boat-necked sweaters made her look like a child. Especially when she wore her hair in braids or a red headband like Snow White's.
"I’m all right. It was just a moment of despair, but it's already over,” Rachel hastened to say, extremely embarrassed at being caught in tears by a stranger.
"It happens to me too, you know?" Abigail tried to comfort her with her little voice like the twittering of a bird. “Not to mention that today is Valentine's Day ... Just yesterday my boyfriend left me. Will you spend Valentine's Day alone too? "
"Yep. My ex and I broke up a few weeks ago. He cheated on me and then he left. And now, after three weeks of silence, he comes back to wish me a happy Valentine's Day."
"Way to turn the knife in the wound, huh?" Abigail was indignant.
“ Looks like he did it on purpose just to hurt me. I don't see why he would have sent me that message otherwise, if not for that," Rachel guessed, remembering how the message had destabilized her to such an extent that she ran to hide in the bathroom to hide her tears. It wasn't like her to indulge such emotional scenes, but at that time there were so many changes going on and she feared she wouldn't be able to deal with it all alone.
"Maybe he expected you to run to him and forgive him."
"I’m not even thinking about that!"
"Sometimes men are selfish."
“ I know, but I can swear to you this will be the last time I shed a tear for a man. I no longer want to be fooled and to suffer. I'm better off alone,” Rachel promised herself. "I just have to find a cheaper apartment, because I can't pay all the bills myself and Carter House didn't renew my contract."
"Strange. Everyone says Norman Carter adores you. "
"Yes, but I would like to become a senior editor, be able to make a career and convince Norman to put together a fiction series ... Unfortunately, the editor vacancy will probably be given to Mara Herdex, and so far the publisher has no desire to open up to novels. "
“ Number one: Mara is not even worth half what you are worth. I really mean it."
"Thanks."
"Number two: who better than you to bring new authors to this publishing house?"
“ Actually, I'm nobody and I've never held the role of series director in my life. I don't have the experience needed,” Rachel said, blushing at all the unexpected but sincere compliments.
“ You are the founder of the blog Sogni di Carta! There isn't an aspiring writer who hasn't come to your blog to ask for advice or to seek out information on how to become an established writer. Not to mention your consultancy!"
"You know of my blog?" Rachel asked, surprised.
Abigail hesitated for a moment as if afraid of saying too much, then decided to open up and tell the truth. After all, she had never been able to lie and certainly would not have wanted to start now with Rachel Moses, the beginners’ guru.
"You don't remember me, do you?" she asked fearfully.
"Your face is familiar to me, but I don't remember where I've seen you before," Rachel admitted.
"We met three years ago at Liza Bennett's bookstore, at the Book Club that she held every Wednesday night."
Rachel finally remembered her. She had gone a few times to the Book Club held at Liza’s Books, and it had always been a pleasant experience.
"If I remember correctly, you also asked me if I could read one of your stories," Rachel remembered.
"Yes."
"Did I like it?" Rachel just didn't remember.
"I would say no. You wrote me an email in which you tore up my whole story, criticizing the glossy personalities of the characters, saying the rhythm was too fragmented and calling the ending predictable … I cried for three days in disappointment. "
"Oh. I'm sorry,” Rachel tried to apologize. The truth was that when it came to judging a manuscript, she never went light and never let herself be sidetracked by friendships or anything else. This cold and professional attitude had caused her to lose many friendships, but at the same time it had made her admired by writers who were trying to improve their writing or to understand why publishers rejected their writings.
“ I haven't written anything for two months. Then I thought back to your words and started following your advice. I worked hard and last year I asked you if you could read another story of mine. You accepted and complimented me for the lack of errors and the fluidity of the text. However, in your opinion, it was not yet ready for publication. "
"I'm sorry ... I get so many texts to read and sometimes I don't realize ..."
"Don't worry. I'm not angry. On the contrary I'm happy because you helped me a lot. But I know that the road is still awfully long. If I were to write a good novel someday, I'd like you to publish it for me.” Abigail encouraged her with a grin of gratitude.
"I'd be honored," Rachel smiled at her. She finally understood Abigail's reluctance during those months and was relieved to know that she hadn’t hated her too. She was more often covered by insults from writers when she was not convinced of the quality of their manuscript.
“ That's why I hope with all my heart that you continue to work here. I too dream of becoming an editor or a successful writer, instead of the "Photocopy Girl," as they call me here, but I realize that you are much smarter than me and you deserve the promotion Norman will give soon."
"Yes, but Mara ..."
“ Mara is a viper and will try to kill you in all ways because she understands that Norman has a thing for you. Here. Keep this pen drive. Inside is a copy of all the work you've done in these months and the report I photocopied this morning," Abigail said, handing her a Kingston flash drive.
"Thanks. There was no need. "
"Maybe, but something tells me that your future here will depend on this," the girl whispered in a cryptic voice before leaving the bathroom. "And as for love, today is Valentine's Day."
"It's a day like any other," said Rachel, who hated the romance of that holiday.
“ Yes, but not here. You must know that I did my internship here last year and I know very well what will happen today."
"What do you mean?" Rachel was curious.
"Today is the boss's birthday and, like every year, his children will come to greet him."
"So?"
"You know Norman Carter's eyes?"
"Yes," Rachel sighed in love. Her boss had beautiful eyes, truly magnets for every woman. It was impossible to remain indifferent under that magnetic gaze of moss green, a light shade that tended to gray.
“ Well, his five children all have the same eyes. Same identical color and charm. You'll see, you'll lose your mind!"
"No, not me," she assured her. She had just promised herself that she would close her heart to all men, and she had no intention of backing down.
The only thing she was willing to do was meet Richard Wayne, an incredibly talented aspiring writer with whom she had been friends for nearly a year.
They had finally decided to meet and, since they were both going to be alone that night, they had thought of celebrating Valentine's Day together. Nothing more.
"Shall we bet on it? The loser pays for lunch at Powell's complete with a voucher for a book purchase from the bookstore."
"I'm in!"
2
“ Rachel, did you bring me the report I asked for? It's important. I want to reread it before faxing it. I have until tonight. And bring me the latest bills we talked about this morning too.” Norman Carter's voice croaked through the intercom.
"I'll be right there!" Rachel exclaimed, hurriedly gathering all the required documentation.
Luckily, she was a methodical person and always one step ahead of her boss. That way, she never had to keep Norman waiting.
In a rush, she took the files and ran to the door of the boss's office.
Unfortunately, in her haste, she did not notice the person in front of the door and literally ran into him.
As she ran into him, all the documentation fell and scattered disorderly on the floor.
"Holy shit ..." she was about to burst out when she stopped at the sight of the man standing in front of her.
For a good few second she could no longer think.
His beauty struck her with the force of a tsunami.
He was tall, muscular, with muscles so developed that they seemed to want to rip the blue uniform he wore, which bore the shield of the Portland fire brigade.
In addition, he had darker skin than Rachel's chocolate brown, as well as very short curly hair and sparkling green eyes, highlighted by the contrast with the black skin.
It was rare to meet a black man with light green eyes.
Rachel gasped.
“ You must excuse me. I ... “the man took care to say, reaching down to collect the papers.
“ No, it's my fault. I didn’t see you and ... I should have been more careful. Excuse me,” Rachel mumbled, her hormones in turmoil, also bending over to collect the files.
He smiled at her, revealing perfect white teeth.
Rachel found herself biting her lip to stop the moan of pleasure that rose from her throat.
"Darius!" Norman exclaimed behind them suddenly, making them wince at the same time.
"Dad! Happy birthday!" the man greeted him, standing up and hugging his father under Rachel's shocked gaze.
Was that super-hot man Norman's son?!
Unnoticed, her cheeks on fire, Rachel hurried to her boss's office where she put the paperwork on the desk and then ran to hide in her cubicle to cool down.
Now she understood Abigail's confident challenge.
Darius Carter was handsome as a god and had the exact same eyes as his father, although he was completely different otherwise.
She was almost recovered when she heard a knock on the door.
Without waiting for permission a young white man entered, with light brown hair and green eyes like Norman.
"You are Norman's son, I presume."
“ Yes, I'm Justin. Is dad here? " the young man asked with a smile that was seductive and yet innocent, enchanting her and making her melt.
“ He's with your brother, Darius. Maybe they went for coffee. "
"Okay, thanks," he replied as he left.
Rachel thought about that meeting.
Of course, Justin was younger than Darius as well as her, but he was identical to his father in everything.
Yes, he was handsome as hell, and that slightly naive air made him even more intriguing than Norman.
Determined to regain control of her emotions and take a break, she took advantage of the moment of distraction from her boss to go to the break room for a coffee, hoping to meet Abigail. She had a thousand questions to ask her.
She was waiting for the coffee to drop into the plastic cup when she heard a voice behind her.
"Excuse me, are you Rachel?"
Rachel turned ready to answer, but the person in front of her startled her so much that the first button of her already tight shirt literally jumped into the air, showing her generous cleavage pressing against the fabric.
Before her were two identical men: blond, with green eyes, tall and with a beauty capable of breaking down even her iron defenses, typical of a woman wounded enough not to want to fall into the trap of love.
She was so shocked that she would have thought that she was hallucinating if it weren't for the elegant cream-colored suit of one clashing with the more aggressive biker look of the other.
Although her eyes didn't seem to want to leave that double vision, her right hand was quick to hide her exposed breast from their gaze.
"I… Oh my God, I'm so embarrassed," she recovered after a few seconds, trying to close her shirt and hide her white lace bra.
"Honey, you are bursting delightfully, but I think it's better if you wear this." The elegantly dressed man came to her aid, taking a red Hermès scarf from his neck and putting it around hers so that the silk caressed her shoulders and draped sinuously against her chest.
"Thank you," Rachel just said, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“ Red looks good on you, you know? It’s beautiful, and it also breaks the rigidity of the contrast between black and white, don't you think? "
"I... Yes… I don't know,” Rachel stammered shyly, as the man's expert hands smoothed out her shirt and a lock of hair.
Generally she didn't allow any contact or intrusiveness, but the man seemed harmless and more interested in her way of dressing than in what she had on display.
The same couldn't be said of his twin, who appeared fossilized staring at her breasts with an expression that made her feel terribly exposed.
“ By the way, my name is Jean-Louis, and this is my brother Jean-Luc. Luc, to friends. We were looking for our father and a lady told us to ask you. You're our father's new secretary, aren't you?" the man presented himself with a smile capable of enchanting anyone.
"Indeed. Your father is in his office. "
"No, he is not. We are just coming back from his office. "
Hurriedly setting down her coffee, Rachel walked to her small office, where she quickly found a note from Norman: “I'm going to Moka's Bar to have coffee with my children. N. "
"Your father is at Moka's Bar with Darius and Justin," she told them.
"Where is this bar located?" Jean-Luc asked with a strong French accent that hit Rachel with a wave of desire.
"Go outside and turn right," she managed to say although her mind was already somewhere else, in a bed, among the silk sheets, with ... Luc? Jean-Louis? Justin? Or Darius?
"Okay, thanks," the two brothers said.
"And the scarf?"
“ A simple present for Valentine's Day or, if you prefer, a small compensation for having endured our father these past months,” replied Jean-Louis.
"Thanks." Not even Matt had ever given her something so expensive. Rachel loved designer clothes, especially those from the Max Mara, Armani, Dior, Prada and Tom Ford collections.
When the two brothers left, Rachel noticed that there was another post-it note in the pile.
It was from Abigail. "Who won the bet?"
Rachel laughed because she knew she would be lying if she declared that she remained completely indifferent to those four men.
However, that evening she walked out of Carter House with a broken heart.
Norman had never returned to the office and she hadn't received any last-minute calls to warn her that this wasn't her last day on the job.
Desperate, worried, she immediately went home and decided to let off her stress by finishing painting the room. It was a job that Matt had started a month earlier, but then stopped because he was too tired from the overtime he was doing as a financial broker.
"Or because of all the fucking he was doing behind my back," Rachel mused, rolling on the paint so hard that the paint splattered on her.
Luckily, she had put on some old Disney clothes that she would gladly discard when the painting was finished.
She was about to complete the second wall when she heard her cell phone ring.
She ran to answer and with emotion coming out of every pore, she saw her boss's name on the display.
"Rachel, where are you?" Norman said angrily without even saying hello.
"At home." She looked at the time. It was six o'clock in the evening and her work hours ended at four, even though she had stayed, waiting for him almost until five.
"I asked you for the report."
"It's on the desk."
"No, it is not! I told you it was urgent. In less than an hour I have to send everything to the printer. You know I can't bear to break my word. "
Rachel thought about that day.
Was she sure that she had taken the required documentation? Or had Darius distracted her so that she had forgotten about it?
"I'll be right …," she answered before hanging up.
Time was running out.
Without changing, she ran to Carter House and headed straight to her office.
She looked for the printed report but found it nowhere.
Exasperated and feeling pressured, she turned on her computer, determined to print a new copy.
"What the hell…?" she blurted in shock when she saw her PC desktop completely empty.
Where the heck had all her files gone, her reports… everything she had worked on all those months?
Suddenly, she felt panic overwhelm her.
The IT technicians had left by then and she was completely alone, with Norman in the next room anxiously awaiting the required documentation.
Desperate, she searched for the report everywhere, even in her Prada bag.
She was about to give up when she saw the small pen drive that Abigail had given her a few hours earlier.
Not knowing what else to do, she attached the drive to her computer.
Suddenly, all of her folders appeared on the desktop.
Abigail had saved for her all the work that she had done!
She thought back to what she had heard and the suspicions that Mara Herdex would do anything to take out the competition and become the new senior editor.
In fact, that type of ‘accident’ had happened before, and on those occasions Mara had always jumped out with the solution in hand.
With an avalanche of curses filling her mouth, Rachel printed it all out and ran to her boss.
She knocked on the door and Norman ordered her to enter.
Once inside, however, Rachel realized he wasn't alone.
With him were a man and a girl.
Trying not to attract attention, Rachel quickly put the report down on the desk and headed for the exit, but the little girl stepped in front of her.
“ Aren't you too old to wear Snow White's Seven Dwarfs shirt? Why are you all dirty with paint?" the little girl exclaimed, staring at her with her beautiful green eyes and waving her little dark brown ponytail.
"Sophie, don't bother people," said her father, a man with Norman's eyes but darker hair and a thick, slightly unkempt beard hiding his face. “You must excuse her. My daughter always tends to say the wrong things at the wrong time and to the wrong people," the man said in a mock angry tone.
"No, that’s all right," Rachel replied with a hint of a smile.
"Rachel, have you met my son Rufus?" Norman intervened.
"Not really," she admitted.
"Get to know him well if you want to continue working here, because one day this business will be his."
"Dad ..." snorted the irritated son.
"I know, but sooner or later you will have to settle down. Or do you want to continue ruining your life?" his father stirred.
"It's late. I have to go,” the man cut him short, embarrassed at the statements made by his parent in front of a stranger.
“ Okay, go ahead and leave me Sophie. I haven't spent time with my beloved granddaughter for a long time. "
Rufus agreed and, after saying goodbye and admonishing the little girl, he hurriedly left.
“ I'm going too. Have a good evening,” Rachel said, sensing she was not really needed there..
"No, wait. We haven't talked about extending your contract yet."
"I thought you didn't want me here anymore."
“ You are too indispensable for me to be able to do without you. However, I have waited a long time to talk to you about it because I am torn. I still need you as a secretary, but I understand that your job is that of an editor and I would like for you to fill that vacancy. You are smart and you have experience. I'd be willing to promote you to senior editor right away and give you a raise if you promise me you'll stay here with us. Also, I took a look at your blog Sogni di Carta. You know many things and some of your articles have been supported by the editorial trend. You made me realize that you really have what it takes to be a leader and, after our last chat, I'm starting to seriously consider the idea of opening a fiction series."
"That would be great!" Rachel was excited, still incredulous.
“ Show me that you are as smart as I think and I will put you in charge of the series, but I warn you that it will not be easy. At this time I have neither the resources nor the qualified personnel to create a real team. However, if the results are promising, then I will give you carte blanche and a quarterly budget that you can manage at your leisure. Are you with me? "
"I'm ready and I promise you I won't let you down!" exclaimed the woman in seventh heaven. Her dream was coming true! She couldn't have asked for more.
When she walked out of Carter House she was so happy that nothing could take away her smile and happiness. Not even her pen pal who hadn’t shown up at the restaurant on their first date.
“ I lost my courage. Forgive me. Richard,” he emailed her the same evening to apologize for standing her up.
"Apparently, fate is telling me to focus on my career and not men," Rachel realized with a hint of disappointment. Underneath she was convinced that something more could come from her friendship with Richard. They had been writing for a year and she had followed him as an editorial consultant for months, helping him emerge as a writer. Over time, they had become friends and finally decided to meet each other, face to face, since they had never seen each other until now. Not even in photos.
3
"You saved my life, Abigail," Rachel said as she walked over to Powell's for a quick lunch the following day.
"I know," Abigail chuckled, happy to have done something good. She valued Rachel as a professional and as a person because she was always honest, fair and responsible. And even though she often lacked tact, she didn't do it on purpose. She was like that. During the past months, even if she had kept her at a distance, she had come to know and appreciate her.
Hundreds of times she had wanted to go and introduce herself, but then fear had taken over and she had never dared to approach her.
However, when she overheard a conversation by Mara Herlex in which she admitted to sabotaging Rachel's work, she made up her mind to do something.
Every day, during her lunch break, she went to Rachel's office to copy her work onto that flash drive, knowing it would come in handy sooner or later. And she hadn’t been wrong!
She had done it for Rachel because she did not deserve that sort of treatment, as well as for herself because she was sick of Mara's humiliations, and also for Carter House because it was going through a tough period and certain revenge and malice would only further damage the publishing house.
"And I fell in love!" Rachel exclaimed laughing.
"I was sure! Which one?"
"All of them. Norman included. "
"Too bad they're all off limits."
"All six?"
"That’s right."
“ Norman too? I know he's single. "
“ Yes, but he's fifty-six! Come on! He could be our father! "
Rachel was speechless because she knew it was true. She too was always repeating it.
A thirty-two year difference was not easy to come to terms with.
"What can you tell me about his children? And why are they all off limits?" Rachel tried again.
"I know everything! Ask me anything you want."
"Shall we talk about Darius?"
“ Darius… Oh my God, just thinking about him makes me want to dive into hot chocolate. And those eyes! You must know that Darius is the son of Norman and a Nigerian civil rights activist. Carter House has published two books about that woman. It is said that Norman left for Nigeria to meet her and offer her a publishing contract, but in the end he fell in love. They were married for a few years. Darius was born thirty-two years ago, but then the two broke up. Darius has remained with his mother, although he has an excellent relationship with both parents. Norman was hoping to leave his legacy of Carter House to him, but Darius chose to become a firefighter here in Portland, and two years ago he married a witch who uses him as an exhibit and comes here just to ask for money from her father-in-law, after her beauty salon went bankrupt.
“ Ok, I understand. Darius is off limits. But Justin? He's so cute with that saucy air."
"Justin is fourteen, Rachel," Abigail stopped her instantly.
“ I had sexual fantasies about a child. I'm a pervert!” Rachel realized, her cheeks burning with shame.
"I thought he was eighteen," the girl tried to justify herself.
“ You're not the only one who thinks that, but I can assure you that Justin is just a teenager. Norman and Justin's mom broke up last year. She is Bulgarian and is said to have tricked Norman just to get a green card. I don't know if that's true, but Norman went to the Sofia International Book Fair and then returned to America with her. That’s all I know, and that after Justin was born, things started to go downhill until they separated. "
"But the twins are adults, aren't they?" Rachel tried again, still shaken by Justin's age.
“ Yes, they are twenty-seven. from a French mother who works as a stylist in Paris. Again the trip to Paris was fatal for Norman. Their marriage lasted almost ten years, but then she returned to France with the children, and they broke up. Jean-Louis became a fashion designer like his mother and opened his atelier here in Portland, while Luc is a rally driver living in the Principality of Monaco. "
"But he’s single, right?"
“ Yes, but Jean-Louis is gay, and Luc lives more than five thousand miles away. He doesn't have a good relationship with his father and other brothers, so he rarely comes to America. "
“ So then we just have Rufus left, anyway,” Rachel snorted crossly.
"Forget him too! He's in his 30s, he's a wild man, and he's getting a divorce. I know little about him, except that Norman met Rufus's mother in New York, in an art gallery where she exhibited his paintings. It was a one- night stand, but she got pregnant. He proposed to her, but she refused, and then six months after giving birth, she left. She ditched her son to Norman and literally disappeared. She cut off all contact with Norman and her son, who ultimately never met his mother. Some say that Norman was devastated, but that he was so intent on giving his son a mother that he hastily married Jean-Louis and Luc's mother. However, rumor has it that Rufus was never liked by the new family, despite being the best and a true genius at school. Rufus is the only one who graduated and followed in his father's footsteps. Despite this, during his last year of college he got his girlfriend pregnant, and things started to go wrong. He could not continue with his master’s, and he began to devote himself to his daughter full time as, in the meantime, his partner had become a model and had started living in London. He followed her. They got married, but apparently she was too fond of having fun and eventually left him. He recently returned to Portland, with his daughter to take care of, without a job and with a broken heart."
"Poor thing…"
"True. And now he's even grown a beard as if he wants to hide. I once heard Norman say that Rufus had withdrawn from everyone and became suspicious of everyone. He no longer lets anyone approach him. I always thought that the day I saw him without a beard would be the day I knew he was ready to start living again. "
"He deserves it, after all he's been through."
Abigail and Rachel were still talking about Norman's children when a young woman with red hair and gray-green eyes approached them.
"Abby?" the woman exclaimed, drawing the attention of the two young women sitting down to eat.
Abigail turned immediately. Everyone outside the office called her Abby.
"Emma!" Abigail recognized her instantly. "We haven't seen each other for a long time."
«Since Liza's Books closed and the Book Club with it. So now I come here to Powell's to buy books. "
“ Maybe you know Rachel. She used to come to the Book Club too,” Abigail introduced her.
"Maybe. There were many people who frequented Liza's Club," replied Emma hesitantly. In fact, she didn't think she'd ever seen her.
"I don’t think so. I only went to the meetings a few times,” Rachel followed, sure she would remember a woman like that. She was captivated by the elegance and grace of the young woman who might have been her age. Everything about her spoke of femininity and class. From the way she walked, to the perfect chignon that held her red hair together, her emerald green tweed suit by Chanel, to her creamy white Burberry coat.
"Emma is an interior designer but she is passionate about books and loves writing short stories," Abigail introduced her in a pompous tone that made Emma's fair, freckled skin blush.
“ I recently graduated in architecture with a specialization in interior design, but nothing more. I love reading and I write just to pass the time," Abigail specified.
"Pleased to meet you. My name is Rachel Moses,” Rachel introduced herself, shaking her hand.
"Are you the Rachel Moses of Paper Dreams?" Emma exclaimed, surprised.
"Yes."
"I love your blog!"
"Thank you."
“ It is really a pleasure to meet you! I didn't know you were from Portland! "
"I don't like talking about me on social networks," Rachel explained, who loved anonymity and had always felt a certain annoyance at the idea of sharing her life with strangers. Even her profile photo was a picture of a Prague bookshop.
"I get you. I'm Emma Marconi. "
"Marconi as in Marconi Costruzioni?" Rachel asked, flustered. The Italian Marconi family was one of the wealthiest in Portland and had made a fortune in the construction business. There was no person in Portland who did not know the fame of the Marconis.
"Yes, my grandfather is Cesare Marconi, the founder."
"Wow!"
"Emma, why don't you have coffee with us?" Abigail broke in.
"I don't want to interrupt."
"We'd love to have you! I'm sure we'll have a lot to tell each other."
"All right," Emma agreed happily, sitting down with them.
Together they ordered a cappuccino and a slice of red velvet cake.
And as if by magic, in a moment, around that table, each of them was aware that they had just linked their destiny to that of the other two.
4
Emma hadn't slept a wink that night because of Rachel's email.
For the first time she had found the courage to have someone read her stories, and she was terrified. Abigail had warned her of how strict their friend was, ready to tear apart other people's manuscripts if she didn't find them up to par.
She had known those two girls for a few months, however she had already realized that Rachel was a tough, strict, determined, perfectionist, but ready to go out of her way for those she loved. She could always be counted on. For anything and at any time.
The same could not be said of Abigail who, however sweet, tender and pretty, always tended to be overwhelmed by emotion and to become anxious or behave like a child in need of comfort.
They were as different as day and night, although they complemented each other.
Emma thought about Rachel's email.
“ I've read your collection of short stories. Emma, you have talent to spare! You were born to be a writer! I am attaching my notes on the most beautiful stories you sent me. Work on it, I think you might win some literary contests. My compliments! You can be sure that you will have my full support if one day you want to publish your works. Rachel. PS: Don't tell Abby. She just sent me one of her stories and I don't know how to reject it without making her cry.
She would never have believed that one day Rachel Moses would tell her she had talent.
She had cried with excitement and had written all night.
That morning she wanted to sleep until noon, but her grandfather had called her at eight in the morning and told her to go to his office because he urgently needed to talk to her.
It didn't often happen that her grandfather had her summoned to the headquarters of Marconi Costruzioni. When she found herself walking through the doors of the immense palace, one of the first built by the man when he was still working as both bricklayer and building contractor, Emma could not suppress that slight flutter of her heart.
“ Good morning, Miss Marconi. Your grandfather is expecting you," the secretary greeted her instantly, accompanying her to the office of the authoritative and influential Cesare Marconi.
She knocked lightly on the door and the strong, firm voice of the man invited his niece to enter.
Crossing the threshold of that office was always a blast from the past for Emma.
The room was huge. A sitting room now welcomed visitors, where once there had been a small playroom for children, furnished with colorful chairs, rugs with the numbers drawn on them, cubes, Legos, sketchbooks, puzzles and hundreds of puppets. All for the favorite niece of the powerful Cesare Marconi.
A shrewd, unscrupulous, proud to the core, demanding and authoritarian man who had built an empire in the construction industry from scratch ... but also a loving and caring grandfather.
How many times had he told Emma his story, beginning with his poor childhood in the suburbs of Rome, to his adolescence without hope or ambition, breaking his back as a bricklayer instead of studying, because he had to help the family.
Until the day when his cousin, Giulio Marconi, with whom he had shared his whole life, had dragged him to America in search of fortune.
From bricklayers, they had quickly become construction contractors.
During ten years of hard work they had managed to set up Marconi Costruzioni, and over the same number of years they had transformed it into one of the best known and most requested companies in Oregon.
"Marconi. Not just a name, but a guarantee of prestige and stability,” as the company's slogan said.
There were golden years during which Cesare and Giulio Marconi created a real millionaire colossus, until twelve years ago when something serious and mysterious had divided the two once inseparable cousins, who never spoke again. Both were too proud to give in, and their quarrel became a family feud in which the descendants of Cesare were strictly forbidden to have anything to do with their distant cousins, descendants of Giulio and vice versa.
The Marconi family broke up and nothing was the same as before.
The only common concern between the two cousins was Marconi Costruzioni which was split, leading to the birth of Marconi Immobiliare directed by Giulio. However the split was so secret that very few people actually knew that the two companies were two separate entities.
"Dirty clothes are washed in the family," said his grandfather, who did everything he could to ensure that no one knew what really happened. After all, the name Marconi was and should remain synonymous with tradition, guarantee, stability, prestige and power. He would rather die than see his family name tarnished.
However, for Emma, Cesare Marconi was not just a successful man of nearly eighty, still attached to his chair running his company and issuing orders like a commander.
No, for her, he was a father, a mother, a mentor, a refuge ...
For Cesare, nothing came before family and, after his wife had died following her fourth pregnancy, he had dedicated himself body and soul to providing his children and grandchildren with a bright future. He was a true paterfamilias, the head of the family and, when he called, everyone stood at attention, like soldiers. But on the other hand, no Marconi had ever gone hungry, and every member of the family was involved in the company, strategically placed in the various branches of Marconi Construction.
Cesare's successor had also already been decided: Alberto, his beloved eldest son.
Everything was perfect, until one tragic night, in their car, Alberto and his wife Sarah died leaving their three-year-old daughter alone at home with a fever.
Emma.
Cesare did not allow himself to shed even one tear for his son and daughter-in-law.
There was a little girl to think about and, in his opinion, no one capable of being her guardian. Nobody but him.
He took the silent and very shy child with him.
At first it was difficult because Cesare found fault with every housekeeper, babysitter or assistant, so much so that he fired fifteen people in three months.
Exasperated and with a company to run, he decided to take the little girl with him to the office.
He reserved part of his office for her, taught her to build, to read and then to write. But above all, he taught her the importance of silence because that was a workplace where you could not scream, run or cry.
Emma turned out to be an extremely obedient child with a special attachment to that grandfather who filled her with affection and attention.
For three years Cesare did not leave his office, delegating every trip and lecture to his cousin, as they still got along well at the time.
Then came school, boarding school, and summer vacation at Giulio's family's lakeside home in Deschutes County, where his wife Renata gathered all of the grandchildren under the age of fifteen to play and have fun together under her strict supervision.
Although rigid and full of rules, the vacation at the lake was the best time of the year for Emma. Only there could she be with her first, second and third cousins and have fun running, playing, screaming, getting dirty, diving into the water even when dressed ... A dozen young Marconis to revive the immense estate at the foot of the Cascade Mountains.
That was up until twelve years ago. Then there were no more parties and laughter.
Emma still remembered her thirteenth birthday.
She had cried secretly, so her grandfather wouldn’t see her, because she missed the party on the lake with all her cousins.
She also remembered the last birthday when her cousins Salvatore and Aiden had kidnapped her at seven in the morning from her bed, then carried her in their arms to the lake and threw her into the water screaming "Happy birthday!"
The water had entered her nose, mouth and ears, but nothing prevented her from chasing Salvatore, who had cunningly returned to the house under the protective wing of his grandmother Renata.
Only Aiden was left. He always stayed next to her.
"What are you going to do now? Will you wring me out like a rag, or will you hang me somewhere to dry like a sheet?" Emma had asked, pretending to be angry.
"No, I want to kiss you," Aiden replied simply, approaching and gently placing his lips on hers, before giving her time to react.
It was a small, shy kiss, but it was enough to send every cell of Emma into a frenzy.
That had been her first kiss and receiving it from Aiden was the best gift.
When he broke away from her, he looked embarrassed and almost guilty, as if he had dared to do something forbidden, but the toothy smile stamped on Emma's freckled face and those two glittering eyes that had stared at him full of affection had dispelled all his hesitation.
Encouraged, he kissed her again, this time with a little more confidence and, when Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, he felt his heart skip a beat.
For Emma, the moment had been the fulfillment of a dream.
"We're together now, aren't we?" the girl had asked him naively.
"I don't know if we can."
"Why?"
"You are my cousin."
"Yes, but not first degree, so I think we can."
"Okay then, but it has to be a secret."
The day had passed beautifully, and no one had noticed anything, as Emma and Aiden were famous before for being inseparable.
However, for Emma the idyll had lasted only one day, before she realized that after the summer she would not see her boyfriend again until the following summer.
"Actually, I won't be coming here next year," Aiden had told her after listening to her concerns.
"Why not?" Emma asked as she pushed the tears that had formed in her throat.
"I'll be sixteen next year and Grandfather Giulio wants me to do an internship at the Seattle office for the whole summer."
Emma had burst into tears and stopped only after Aiden promised her he would not miss her thirteenth birthday.
Unfortunately, a violent quarrel arose just a couple of months later between Cesare and Giulio, with the consequent separation of the two branches of the family.
When Emma had tried to ask her grandfather to invite Aiden to her birthday, he was truly angry and threatened to put ground her if she dared to mention that name again, someone that was not even Italian.
Twelve years had passed since then.
Twelve years of birthdays that had become more and more official and formal.
Twelve years during which she had met Aiden only rarely at receptions organized by naïve people who would later feel the wrath of Cesare and Giulio Marconi.
Twelve years anchored to the arm of her grandfather who held her close to him, ready to keep away the "Marconi with the lowercase M", as he said, to protect her from any suitor or lover who had the courage to approach what he considered more than a daughter, a real piece of his heart.
Shy and insecure as she was, Emma had never felt the need to free herself from that morbid and nagging control or to argue her grandfather's will. And if on the one hand that had caused her serious limitations especially in the field of love, on the other hand it made her the freest Marconi of the family.
Unlike all her relatives, she had been able to stay out of business matters, as she was a woman and had no particular business sense, as her grandfather sometimes reminded her.
"With that sweet and innocent face you would become the favorite prey of all the Portland sharks ... No, Emma, you just have to think about finishing your studies and finding a good husband who can take care of you," her grandfather had often told her. Too bad it wasn't easy to complete her studies in architecture and even less to specialize in interior design, since Cesare hated architects as much as dentists and found them useless, unlike surveyors and engineers. Moreover, he did not understand what it meant to study three years to learn how to design and furnish an environment. “Everyone furnishes their own house, and nobody has this absurd specialization that only architects could invent! Useless stuff!"
Not to mention the search for her husband. The thorough examination and interrogation of each of her suitors inevitably discouraged anyone from making a third date. Nobody was ever good enough. One was too snobbish, one had divorced parents, one was not Catholic, one had no Italian roots, one had dropped out of college, one had answered him badly… And so on and on and on.
Emma had tried to secretly date guys, especially in college, but her grandfather had eyes and ears everywhere.
“ I do it for your own good. One day you will thank me, my daughter,” he always replied when Emma showed signs of impatience.
However, her grandfather had always known how to regain her affection with an unlimited bank account. She was able to buy and furnish all the houses she wanted, or to go and live alone. It was enough that she did not broadcast that she had a degree in architecture (studies he had never approved) and that she promised to keep away from social climbers and worldly life.
And Emma accepted. After all, she didn't need to work and had started an architecture blog under a false name, where she gave advice on how to renovate and furnish a home.
It wasn't a very popular blog, but it had managed to make its way through the virtual labyrinth of the web.
In the meantime she had also begun to write some short stories (always under a pseudonym), to attend some book clubs and to participate in the Sogni di Carta blog directed by Rachel Moses with other book enthusiasts, who exchanged advice and information to help novice writers gain visibility and improve their work.
Sure, she had no friends and didn't hang out with anyone but her cousins and a few old college friends, but now things were changing.
Meeting Abigail Camberg and Rachel Moses had changed her life. Now she had someone with whom she could speak openly about her passions and dreams.
"Emma, my daughter," her grandfather greeted her as soon as he saw his granddaughter enter the office.
"Nono!" she exclaimed happily as a child running to embrace that gruff old man who had always loved her like no other.
"How are you?"
"Good. And you?"
"I've had better times," the man grumbled as he slumped into his presidential chair behind his desk and invited Emma to sit across from him.
“ Bad sign,” thought Emma, immediately alert. When she went to visit her grandfather, he always made her sit in the sitting room, where a tea or coffee with pastries were always set, waiting for her.
A few times her grandfather had made her sit in front of his throne, and every time it had always been to scold her. Like the time he had discovered that she was secretly seeing a certain Clark whom Cesare had defined "foolish idiot of a republican," or when they were quarreling because Emma had decided to attend courses in architecture and not in economics as was expected of her, or when she informed him that she was going to live alone in the attic on 5th Avenue, or the only time she had gone to a party where she got drunk on just one whiskey.
“ I'm deeply sorry that you're having a hard time, Grandpa. I talked to Sally, Salvatore's wife, last week, and she told me that the bank refused your last loan,” replied Emma, trying to distract him by talking about Marconi Costruzioni. Which always worked.
“ Yes, my girl. The golden days are over, and this crisis is cutting our legs from under us. We have been carrying losses for too long now ... This descent into hell has continued for five years and I am beginning to no longer see the end of the tunnel. I am not surprised that Giulio had a heart attack. After all these years of working hard to achieve something to be proud, just to be taken over by the banks, with the board of directors wanting to sell their shares to those who enjoy dismantling companies ... I ... I ..." Cesare began angrily, until exhaustion and respiratory fatigue silenced him.
"Please, calm down," Emma was instantly frightened as she walked over to him and took his hands in hers. Her grandfather was seventy-eight, and although his heart worked well, the same couldn't be said of his lungs after years of smoking like a chimney. The doctors had forbidden his cigarettes and pipe three years ago, but he continued to suffer from respiratory spasms due to stress.
"You should give it over to one of us and retire, Dad," his second son Samuel had told him at a family dinner, but the chilling look he had received in response had left him speechless all evening.
"I would have already handed it over if I had found at least one deserving son or grandson among that herd of idlers who live wrapped in cotton wool; someone with my own fire in his veins," he had told Emma once they were alone.
"I went to Giulio's to see him in the hospital a few days before his death, you know?" confessed her grandfather bringing her back to reality.
Emma gasped. Just saying the word Giulio was forbidden in the presence of her grandfather, and she was shocked to hear that the two had seen each other only two months ago.
"You never told me," Emma whispered in shock.
"I know. The fact is, I knew he had been sick. I had heard that he was dying like this, gripped by remorse for these twelve years away from him because of the crazy love for a woman I never saw again. I went to see him. "
Emma wanted to ask him a thousand questions. Had the quarrel between her grandfather and Giulio happened over a woman? This, yes, was unexpected. As far as she knew, her grandfather was still tied to the memory of his late wife, the mother of his four children.
"Unlike me, he had already found an heir to whom he could leave command," the man continued.
"Who?"
“ The son of Giacomo and Eleonor. Apparently, the best nephew was born from Giulio's stupidest son."
"Aiden?" Emma whispered. She had forgotten what it was like to say the name aloud since it had been forbidden to her. Although in reality in each of her stories, there was always a beautiful and enterprising Aiden who saved the protagonist.
"Yes," Cesare snarled, slightly annoyed. "And he's good too. I know that Marconi Immobiliare is also doing badly, yet it is still afloat, and Giulio confessed to me that he owes everything to Aiden. I researched and it's true. The guy has already made a name for himself in the business world and apparently is not subtle when it comes to closing a deal, even if he looks like he’s wearing an ice mask on the surface."
Emma no longer even remembered the last time she had seen Aiden. An eternity had passed.
"Who knows what he’s like now ...," she thought.
“ Aiden came to me a few days ago. He brought me a letter from my cousin asking me to save our name and family. He apologized for not always being honest with me and begged me to bring Marconi Costruzioni back to what it once was."
"But he's dead now."
“ Yes, but I've already taken the letter to a lawyer and he told me it's valuable, so I can challenge Giulio's inheritance. However, I don't want to destroy what we have built. On the contrary, I want to go back to the Marconi of the past, as requested by him. I want to grant his wish before I die. "
"You'll have to find a way to deal with Aiden."
"I have and he accepted."
All in one week? Of course her grandfather knew how to get seas and mountains moving in no time.
"I'm glad," she said cautiously, hiding her happiness at being able to talk to Aiden again.
"Who knows if he too remembers our kiss of twelve years ago?" she thought dreamily, heartened by the fact that, thanks to her secret research, she knew that he too was still single.
"Not me."
