A Summer With My Aunt, A Lifetime With Him

*Chapter 1: Arrival In Italy* Elena Martins had imagined Italy differently. In her imagination, Italy was slow music, soft gelato, and old men playing chess in the piazza. In reality, Italy was loud, fast, and currently trying to make her miss her train. She ran through Milano Centrale station, dragging a pink suitcase that had already lost one wheel. Her hair was sticking to her forehead and her white t-shirt had a small stain from the orange juice she bought in a hurry. "Elena! Over here!" A woman in a bright floral dress was waving wildly from platform 3. Aunt Rosa. Elena had not seen her aunt in seven years, since she moved to Italy after her husband died. But Rosa looked exactly the same — loud laugh, bright lipstick, arms open wide. "My Elena! You are finally here!" Rosa hugged her so tight Elena could smell her perfume, strong and sweet. "Aunt Rosa, I missed you," Elena said, out of breath. "You look tired, my love. And thin! Did they not feed you at home?" "I literally just ran across the whole station." Rosa took her suitcase as if it weighed nothing. "Come, come. My apartment is small but you will love it. I made lasagna." The apartment was indeed small. One bedroom, one tiny living room, and a kitchen that could fit only two people at a time. But it was warm. There were photos on the wall, a small plant on the window, and a blanket that Rosa had crocheted herself. "This is your room," Rosa said, opening a door. It was more like a storage room with a bed inside, but Elena didn't care. "It's perfect, thank you." "Rest. Tomorrow I will show you Milan. The Duomo, the shopping street, everything!" Elena fell onto the bed. For the first time in three months, since she lost her job at the bakery back home, she felt hopeful. Maybe two weeks in Italy was exactly what she needed. She didn't know that tomorrow, everything would go wrong. --- The next morning, Rosa woke her at 7am. "Get up! We are going to get fresh bread!" Elena groaned. "Aunt Rosa, it's a holiday." "Holiday? In my house there is no holiday. Come." They walked to a small cafe on the corner. The street was already busy — men in expensive suits rushing to offices, women with sunglasses that cost more than Elena's entire suitcase. "Wait here, I will order," Rosa said and disappeared inside. Elena stood outside, looking around. That's when she saw him. He was tall, at least 6 feet 2, wearing a dark blue suit that looked like it was made for him. His hair was black, neatly combed back, and his face... his face was the kind that made women stop walking. But his expression was cold. Very cold. He was on the phone, speaking fast Italian, and looking angry. Elena wasn't staring. She really wasn't. But then he turned, and his coffee — a large, hot, black Americano — flew right out of his hand. Directly onto her white t-shirt. And then onto his suit. For a second, nobody moved. Elena looked down. Her white t-shirt was now brown. And his suit... oh God, his suit had a huge coffee stain on the trousers. "Che diavolo!" he shouted. "I... I am sorry! You turned so fast!" Elena stammered, trying to wipe her own shirt. He looked at her as if she was an insect. "You were not looking where you were going." "You spilled coffee on me!" "You were standing in the middle of the sidewalk!" Rosa came out of the cafe just in time. "What happened? Elena?" "This man spilled coffee on me!" Elena said. "This girl ruined my suit!" the man said at the same time. Rosa looked at the man's suit, then at Elena's shirt. "Oh dear." The man took a deep breath and pulled a card from his pocket. He held it out to Elena. "My dry cleaning bill. You will pay for it. My office will contact you." Elena stared at the card. It was thick, black, with gold letters. LORENZO DE LUCA CEO, DE LUCA GROUP Elena's mouth went dry. She knew that name. Even back home, people knew De Luca Group. It was one of the biggest fashion companies in Europe. "I... I don't have money for dry cleaning," she whispered. Lorenzo gave her a last cold look. "Then you should be more careful where you stand, Miss Tourist." He walked away, leaving the faint smell of expensive cologne and coffee behind. Rosa grabbed Elena's arm. "Do you know who that was? That is Lorenzo De Luca! The most eligible bachelor in Milan! And the most ruthless! Elena, what did you do?" "I just stood there!" Elena wanted to cry. "I just stood there and he spilled coffee on me!" But in her hand, the black card felt heavy. Like a warning.