Chapter Three
2251 Words
Milan
Three Years Later
The late afternoon sun bore down on Marcus, fresh trails of sweat running down his back, a pinched frown on his face as the flashing headlines lit up the screen of his tablet.
BERGUAN HOLDINGS CEO COMMITS SUICIDE AMIDST FRAUD INVESTIGATIONS.
‘‘f**k!’’ The delicate device hit the wall across the room, shattering into tiny pieces as he ran a hand through his hair. How was he going to explain this to the board?
‘‘What if they find out I am involved in this?’’ He said out loud, a panicked look creeping over his features.
“No one is going to find out anything. You will just replace the money, Babe. It’s easy.” Gianna replied from the edge of the room, her red nails catching the rays of light filtering into the warm office space.
Marcus let out a harsh laugh. “Ha! Easy, easy. Did you just f*****g say the word easy? In what world do you live in where Thirty Million Dollars just magically falls out from the sky?!” He walked up to her, his hands fisted at his side, a thin line of reasoning stopping him from reaching out to throttle her.
‘‘This is all your fault. I never would have invested so much in that fool if you didn’t coach me to do it. And now, I am f****d, Gianna. Find me a solution.’’
She smiled faintly, her attention on the brightly lit screen in front of her. “Oh, put the blame on yourself. I told you about my investment in crypto to guide you. I never asked you to move our company funds into a crypto scam, Marcus!’’
“It was projected to triple!”
“Well, it certainly tripled for someone else, probably the CEO who just bit a bullet. Now, do you want my help or not?’ She replied, her head angled to the side
Marcus exhaled sharply. Gianna was probably his only way out of this fix, because the Investors would not be happy to hear his excuses. ‘‘What is your plan?’’
Gianna lifted her tablet and turned it toward him.
It was a Forbes article.
CATALINA GIORDANO - FORBES 30 UNDER 30.
GIORDANO ESTATES SURPASSES $1B VALUATION.
Catalina stood in a sharp ivory suit, poised, composed.
Marcus stared at the figure on screen. She looked beautiful, way less chunky than the last time he saw her.
One billion dollars. How did she get so much money in less than five years?.
He scanned the body of the article.
Subsidized smart housing initiative.
Affordable ownership model.
Strategic AI integration partnerships pending.
He remembered now. Catty always spoke about affordable houses for the poor. She wanted the riff-raff to live in the type of homes the one percent did. He had laughed her idea off and cut it down; now it seemed his dear ex-wife had learned to fly.
“She’s going to Milan,” Gianna said. “Global Infrastructure and Innovation Summit. I already got you a ticket, start packing.”
Marcus looked up at her, an incredulous look on his face contrasting with the determination on hers. ‘‘You want me to beg Catalina for money? What makes you think she will give me any? ”
“Because she owes you. If you had never given her access to DeLuca holding, what would she know about architecture? Besides, divorced or not, the poor thing still loves you. Go pump her for dough, just like before.’’
A tick clenched in his jaw. “You’re right. She does owe me. Time to collect.”
Milan
Catalina stepped out of the car and inhaled slowly; the air was colder than she expected.
Brera was more picturesque and bohemian than she expected. The pictures on Google didn’t do the cobblestone streets, high-end boutiques, and stylish cafes justice. She could see why tourists loved the city. It felt like stepping into a world of royalty.
The summit hall shimmered with bright lights as she stepped in. Rows and rows of people bred from old European money. Investors in tailored suits, champagne glasses floating above their heads, engaged in conversations.
Catalina let out a low breath to steady her nerves. Three years ago, she would have felt small walking into rooms like this.
Today, she was no longer the weakling hiding in her husband’s shadow. She was here to state her cause and win some men over.
Michael adjusted his cufflinks beside her as the hall quieted down and her name was called. “Go get them, Kid.”
Catalina smiled, stepping on stage, rows of eyes looked up at her in silence, then she spoke.
“Good afternoon, everyone. It is an honour to present this idea to a house of great minds.
Her voice carried through the silence.
“I grew up watching people negotiate safety. Rent versus dignity. Stability versus survival. Mortgages versus Inheritance for their Children.”
She paused.
“I decided housing should not be a privilege for the most wealthy and everyone deserves to own a good home that will stand the test of time, and won’t cost a kidney or four.”
The room erupted in low laughter.
“This is what Giordano Estates is building. Long-term communities for the low-income earner that offer the best design and functionality without cutting costs. With over $1 billion dollars secured in funding, we urge you to join us on this journey to reduce homelessness and give hope to the current and next generation. Thank you.’’
The applause was deafening as she came down. Michael grinned at her from his position. This was a good sign; now they just needed more people to come on board.
She was returning to her seat when she felt it. The sensation of eyes on her. Her blue eyes scanned the room, and then she saw him.
Her ex-husband looked gaunt, for lack of a better term to use. The dark hair she had once loved to run her fingers through looked dry and balding, his lips looked black in the bright lights, and his eyes were colder than she remembered.
“I have to say, I am impressed, Catty,” he said when he came to a stop in front of her. One hand thrust into the pocket of the pressed Armani suit. ‘‘Who would have thought my little mouse could squeak?’’
“What do you want, Marcus? I have important people to use my words on.”
‘‘Can’t a Man say hi to his wife for old times' sake?’’
‘‘Ex-Wife!” She spat out harshly, drawing the attention of a group of diplomats next to them. Catalina let out another slow breath. Getting into a fight with this worm would not gain her favours.
He leaned slightly closer, and she flinched. A cruel smile spread across his lips, and she knew he caught that. Even after all these years, he still had that controlling effect on her. “You have a company based on what you learnt from me. It is only right that I eat the fruit of my labours.’’
‘‘It seems you started smoking weed when I left you.’’ She replied with a huff. ‘‘You must have forgotten because I only ever cooked and cleaned for you, but I am also an Architect, so get out of my face.’’
She moved to go past him when his arm darted out, curling over her wrist in an Iron grip. ‘‘Where do you think you’re going? I am still talking to you, piggy.’’
‘‘Marcus let go of me!’’ Her voice had raised an octave, and people were staring at them. Damn him. This was not what she came to Milan for.
‘‘Try as much as you want, but you will always be my pig-,’’
‘‘I believe we haven’t been introduced, Ms. Giodarno.’’ A low voice cut Marcus off, and a warm hand dislodged his grip on her.
Marcus turned first, but whoever he saw must have been important because the retort died on his lips. Catalina turned to face her saviour.
Julian Rinaldi looked intimidating up close. Tall, Broad-shouldered. Dark suit, no tie. Crisp white shirt open at the collar. Grey eyes that commanded her attention and trapped her in their snare.
He was nothing like the tech founder she had spent hours studying in articles and posts before today. She didn’t register Marcus leaving, her attention solely on the Greek God in front of her. This must be why the term ‘Adonis’ was used to describe some men.
Catalina shook off the wandering thoughts, just realizing she had been staring at a potential partner like a fish out of water for over three minutes.
“Mr. Rinaldi. It is an absolute pleasure.” She returned his handshake, dropping her hand immediately.
He studied her in silence, yet she could see he had questions burning behind his grey orbs.
‘‘Walk with me. I am curious about this project so dear to your heart.’’
The balcony doors closed behind them, muting the summit’s hum. Milan glittered below.
Catalina rested her hands lightly on the railing, drinking in the cold evening air.
Julian stood beside her, quiet. She was about to say anything to break the silence when he spoke.
“Your proposition is quite ambitious,” he said.
“It is a strategic project.” She replied, hugging her arms closer to her bosom. We are in the middle of an AI revolution. If we don’t take steps to curb homelessness, more people will be on the streets.’’
“You sound emotional,” He replied, taking measured steps towards her. ‘‘Nothing like the woman who dared me to come here after failing to get an audience in New York.’’
She flinched as he draped his coat over her shoulders, eyes locked with hers for a brief moment.
Her chin tilted away from his gaze. “Well, if the prophet won’t go to the mountain….’’ Her voice trailed off.
‘‘Then, the mountain will go to the prophet.’’ He completed the statement, a sly smile on his face as he studied her.
“You want my AI infrastructure,” he continued. “Without it, your homes won’t run, and this would have all been a very lovely speech.”
“You have a way with words.”
“I just like being blunt; it saves a lot of time when dealing with leeches. You’ve wanted this partnership for a year, and I have been skeptical, but I think I am ready to take a plunge on this idea.”
“Really?” Her eyebrows raised in question. ‘‘What changed your mind?’’
He started to speak when the wind blew again, brushing a loose strand of hair from her tight bun.
Julian reached up and tucked it behind her ear. His fingers barely grazed her skin.
Her breath hitched despite herself. Sparks tingled where her skin met hers.
“Call it Intuition or attraction,” he said quietly.
“This isn’t a marriage proposal.”
“I’m aware. It is a partnership, and I am willing to commit like a good husband if you may.” The sly man winked at her. ‘‘But, on one condition.’’
“What is it?” Her voice was a whisper she could not recognize, and she cleared her throat, stepping out of his embrace.
“DeLuca Holdings. Acquire it,” he said.
Her frown deepened. ‘‘You want DeLuca Holdings before we sign a partnership. Why?’’
He watched her carefully.
“I need proof you are not a flaker,” he continued. Attachment clouds judgment. Marriage even more. I need to be sure my money is in the hands of a cutthroat businesswoman.”
“You think I’m still driven by my ex-husband.”
“No. I think to stand by my side as a partner, you should do a bit of house cleaning.’’
“And then?”
“Then I invest.”
“How much am I getting out of this?”
“Fifty billion dollars.” He stated, a raised eyebrow corked in her direction. ‘‘And, complete access to Rinaldi Innovations Technology for life.’’
She watched him. “And if I fail?”
“Then I know you are not the one. Kind of like a failed relationship. What do you say?’’
“I will say you should get those documents ready. Because I love proving people wrong.”
“That’s the woman who forced me to Milan. You have ninety days,” he said.
“Ninety days,” she repeated. The timeline was short but doable. She could do this.
She extended her hand first this time. “Deal.”
He looked at her hand. Then at her, before wrapping his warm fingers around hers.
“I look forward to our partnership, Catalina,” he said.
- Writer
