'She's really quitting??'
Ethan thought she was bluffing, that she'd show up at work today like nothing happened. But she didn't. She surprised him—again. It was a pattern with Ava Sinclair, and he had barely known her. She wasn't intimidated by him. Not even a little. It was… unreal.
If it were anyone else, he would have considered them gone for good, a minor inconvenience at most. But with Ava, it felt different. Maybe because he knew her firm was new and probably needed every client they could get.
His project alone could have secured them a steady income. A hundred thousand euros or more—that was what he usually paid for a project like this. He was picky, demanding, and expected perfection, so he didn't mind splurging on the best.
Yet she walked away. Dropped everything. Just like that. And for the first time in a long time, Ethan Vescovi had no idea how to ask for forgiveness. It wasn't something he did often.
At the crack of dawn, Ethan called Luca to come to his penthouse. When Luca arrived, he glanced around the living space before letting out a deep breath of relief.
"No one's here." Ethan said dryly.
Luca stepped in fully, raising an eyebrow. "May I ask you boss… where is she?"
Ethan leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "You tell me. She quit last night."
Luca's eyes widened. "Quit? Like… quit her job, or quit you?"
Ethan froze. His jaw clenched. "I don't know. Both?"
Luca shrugged. "Really? I mean… she seemed comfortable around you. Friendly. I thought maybe—"
"She's not my girlfriend." Ethan said but somehow it's painful. His heart even whispered yet, but he ignored it.
"My mistake, boss," Luca said, scratching the back of his head. "It's just… she doesn't act like most people around you. She's different."
Ethan exhaled sharply. "You see it too, right? So it's not just me? She called my bullshit last night. You do know that no one does that. She made me mad. I made her mad. And now she's gone. But I don't want her gone, so I called you. Can you, I don't know… fix it?"
Luca blinked, clearly startled. It wasn't often that he admitted needing help—especially not over a woman. "Uh… boss, this isn't really my area of expertise," Luca said hesitantly. "But… I could ask around?
Ethan nodded, running a hand through his hair. "That'll be all. Any meetings today?"
Luca checked the schedule. "You have an 11 AM appointment with Palazzo Pangi Hotel & Grand Spa Milano."
Right. He almost forgot. Three hotels—one in Barcelona, one in Nice, one in Milan—were his latest acquisitions. He checked the time. 930AM. "Wait here. I'll get ready."
Ethan dressed in a dark grey William Fioravanti bespoke suit, paired with a silk Hermès tie and Bottega Veneta shoes. He fastened his Richard Mille watch just as Luca appeared at the doorway.
"The chauffeur's here, boss." Luca said.
Ethan nodded and took one last look in the mirror before heading downstairs. The drive to the hotel took twenty minutes.
Upon arrival, they were greeted by the staff. Since the owner was ill, she had sent her hotel manager, Imogen Rossi, in her place. The meeting was swift. A few negotiations later, Ethan officially owned the Palazzo Pangi Hotel & Grand Spa.
He took in his surroundings, assessing every inch of his new property before turning to Imogen. "I'll be in touch," he said simply.
After a brief lunch with Luca, they visited the Laurent site, wrapping up business around 5 PM. But even as the day ended, Ethan's mind lingered on Ava Sinclair. The thought of her walking away gnawed at him. So, he did something he hadn't done in years—he called his mother.
On the third ring, Delilah Vescovi answered.
Delilah: "Sweetheart! What a surprise! Is everything okay?"
Ethan: "I think so… maybe."
Delilah: "You know you can tell me anything."
Ethan: "I met someone."
A delighted squeal came through the phone.
Delilah: "Oh my! This is wonderful news!"
Ethan: "Mom, we're not… a thing. As much as I"— he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "She hates me." A pause. Then, a softer voice.
Delilah: "Oh no, what did you do?"
Ethan: "Mom, she's different. She yells at me. She makes me mad. And I somehow make her mad."
A small laugh.
Delilah: "So… she calls you on your bullshit?"
He groaned. "That's one way to put it. But, mom, she was late to a meeting and somehow made it my fault. Then she had the audacity to tell me to be nicer to Luca. Luca doesn't even mind!" Silence. Then—
Delilah: Did you hear yourself just now?
Ethan frowned. "What?"
Delilah: "Did you change the meeting time without consulting her? And you expected her to adjust without question? And she called you out for basic human decency. Have you apologized?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it. "But, Mom—"
Delilah: "Ethan... You called me because you 're in doubt. I'm telling you as your mother, and as a woman—apologize. If you want anything with her, you start there. And when you finally win her over, bring her to meet me because I like her already."
Ethan sighed. "Okay, Mom. Love you."
Delilah: "Love you too, baby."
He hung up.
'Great. Now he had to apologize. A grand apology. But how?'
He paced around the penthouse, listing options.
Flowers? No idea what she liked—or if she had allergies.
Teddy bear? Too childish.
Necklace? Too intimate.
Earrings? Too weird.
Ring? Too soon..
Car? Too much.
Then—brilliance struck.
Ava was a designer. And since she had refused to work on his penthouse, he needed something else. He immediately called Imogen Rossi. She picked up on the first ring.
Imogen: "Mr. Vescovi. How may I assist you?"
Ethan: "I have a task for you. I want you to hire a designer named Ava Sinclair from Ava's Impression Firm. Have her design the lobby and entrance. Give her complete creative freedom."
A pause. Then he heard, "Understood."
Ethan: "She must not know it's my hotel or that it's connected to me in any way. She wouldn't accept it otherwise."
Imogen: "I'll take care of it immediately, sir."
Ethan: "Good. Make the theme luxury and timeless. And treat her the way you would treat me. If she complains about anything, there will be consequences for you."
Imogen: "Yes, Mr. Vescovi."
He ended the call, a slow smirk forming on his lips. She would never see it coming. And that was exactly the point.