The phone rang late on a Friday evening, just as Nicoletta was about to leave for the weekend. She hesitated, tempted to let the answering service take the call. But with a resigned sigh, she turned back and picked up the receiver.
"Costa d'Amalfi Properties. Good evening."
A deep, imperious voice replied, "Good evening. I'm flying in from Paris tomorrow to view one of your properties. Your name, please?"
Nicoletta's response was crisp. "Signorina Blanchi. If you'll just give me the details."
The caller continued, "I've arranged to meet with someone tomorrow evening at five. I spoke with your Mr. Matteo about this last week. He assured me that one of the partners would be available for viewings on weekends."
Nicoletta stiffened, her eyes narrowing. "That's very short notice, Signore—"
"De La Roche," he supplied, his tone dripping with an air of superiority. "It's not short notice, Mademoiselle. Mr. Matteo informed me that confirmation was all that was required. Are you a partner?"
Nicoletta's response was measured. "Yes, Signore De La Roche, I am. Perhaps you would tell me which property you have in mind, and I'll do my best to make the arrangements."
"I wish to inspect Castello dei Fiori," he said, his words sending a shiver down Nicoletta's spine. The property was not in Amalfi, as expected, but a three-hour drive away on the coast. Moreover, it was a house she'd hoped never to set foot in again as long as she lived. During the lengthy time it had been on their books, Matteo had always taken prospective buyers over Castello dei Fiori. Not that there had ever been many, and none at all lately.
The property held secret memories, but personal feelings couldn't be allowed to lose a sale. Nicoletta composed herself and replied, "Are you still there, Signore De La Roche?"
"Yes, Mademoiselle," he responded.
"This is very short notice, but I'll arrange my diary to fit the visit in," Nicoletta assured him, trying to keep her tone professional.
"You will come yourself, of course," he stated, rather than asked.
Nicoletta's eyes glittered coldly. "Of course. My assistant will accompany me." She saw no reason to tell him that Rossi was at home, nursing a cold.
"As you wish," he said. "I shall not, you understand, expect you to drive back to Naples afterwards. The Belvedere Hotel is nearby. There is a double room reserved for you in the name of Costa d'Amalfi Properties. Please make use of it."
Nicoletta's response was immediate. "That won't be necessary," she said at once.
"Au contraire," he countered. "I shall require a return visit to Castello dei Fiori very early the following morning."
"I'm afraid that's not possible," Nicoletta replied, her tone firm.
"But this was the arrangement made with Mr. Matteo, Mademoiselle," he insisted. "It was made clear that someone would be available to escort me round the property."
Matteo might be one of her senior partners, but she would have a bone to pick with him when he came back. Nicoletta assured the caller, "As I said, I'll cancel my private arrangements and meet you at Castello dei Fiori, Signore De La Roche. But a hotel room is unnecessary. I'm used to driving long distances."
The words hung in the air like a challenge: "In this case, it would be unwise. You must be available very early on Sunday. I return to Paris later in the morning."
Nicoletta's anger simmered, directed squarely at the absent of Matteo, as she reluctantly agreed. "As you wish, Signore De la Roche."
"Thank you, Mademoiselle," he replied, his tone courteous but detached. "Your name again, please?"
"Blanchi," she said, her voice firm.
"A demain, Mademoiselle Blanchi," he said, the phrase "until tomorrow" taking on a slightly ominous tone. Nicoletta's gaze darkened as she contemplated the ruin of her weekend plans. She hung up the phone, ensured Costa d'Amalfi Properties was secure for the night, and headed home.
The flat is situated in a historic building in the heart of Naples, with breathtaking views of the Bay of Naples and Mount Vesuvius. The interior is characterized by high ceilings, elegant moldings, and large windows that allow plenty of natural light to pour in. The living room is spacious, with a beautiful terracotta-tiled floor and walls adorned with vibrant colors and intricate frescoes. The room is furnished with a mix of modern and antique pieces, blending seamlessly with the building's historic charm.
The kitchen is sleek and modern, equipped with top-notch appliances and ample counter space. It's perfect for cooking up delicious Neapolitan dishes like pizza and pasta.
The bedrooms are cozy and serene, with plush carpets and comfortable furnishings. Each room has its own unique character, with one bedroom featuring a stunning view of the sea.
The flat's location is ideal, within walking distance to Naples' famous historic center, including the Piazza del Plebiscito and the Castel dell'Ovo. The vibrant streets of Naples are filled with delicious food, rich history, and stunning architecture, making this flat the perfect base for exploring the city.
Nicoletta cherished her new abode, where she could finally relish the solitude, she had always yearned for. After a lifetime of communal living, the instant she had crossed the threshold of the vacant flat, she had experienced an intoxicating surge of liberation. Every hour of toil, past and future, seemed vindicated by this opulent retreat. Yet now, her aspirations for a tranquil weekend—watching films, indulging in her favorite cuisine, and engaging in absolute idleness—were being disrupted by the incessant demands of Signore De La Roche.
Nicoletta's male colleagues would likely perceive her solitary weekend as peculiar, but she had grown accustomed to her own company. Matteo's remark, "A woman like you should be illuminating some fortunate fellow's life," still irked her, but she had long since learned to disregard his antiquated perspectives. An opinion she deemed characteristically male.
Nicoletta relished her life precisely as it was, and her social calendar was typically bustling enough. However, as Matteo was well aware, it was her obligation to keep the weekend unencumbered, in case a discerning client should suddenly require a viewing of one of the prestigious properties managed by Costa d'Amalfi Properties. Her sole grievance was the fact that Castello dei Fiori was the property in question this weekend.
While some might consider her unwavering commitment to her profession as unconventional, Nicoletta remained unfazed.
"You're unnatural," her younger sister Adriana had once lamented. Adriana had been awaiting her scholarship approval at NABA - New Academy of Fine Arts to pursue a Bachelor's degree in Fashion Design, all the while flitting from one hectic love affair to another, and came flying to Nicoletta for consolation between bouts. "All you care about is that job, and this place. You might as well buy a cat and settle into total spinsterhood."
Nicoletta had been unmoved. "I don't like cats. And the term 'spinster', Ms Taylor, is no longer politically correct."
"Nor does it apply to you, darling, yet," Adriana had replied with a smile. "But it might if you don't watch out!"
Nicoletta had just laughed it off.
After a long day, Nicoletta drove home, luxuriated in a bath, prepared a modest supper, and then reluctantly opened her briefcase. She settled down to peruse the brochure for Castello dei Fiori, a property that held little allure for her. The previous owners had renovated it extensively, yet she was perplexed as to why the Frenchman was interested in it. Castello dei Fiori, according to Matteo, was in immaculate condition now, but it was vast, exorbitantly priced, located in Amalfi, and aesthetically unappealing unless one held an affinity for the Gothic.
Constructed as a summer villa for the aristocratic families of Amalfi, the architecture of Castello dei Fiori mirrored the region's rich history and breathtaking coastal vistas. In contemporary times, the grand villas of Amalfi were frequently transformed into luxury hotels or vacation rentals, yet Castello dei Fiori distinguished itself as a standalone property far too expansive to attract the average buyer.
Nicoletta regarded the brochure with trepidation. Tomorrow would be an intensely personal ordeal, but otherwise a complete futility. The man would cast a glance at the house, emit a Gallic shudder of distaste, and hastily return to Paris on the next available flight.
She brightened at the prospect. In such a case, she could abandon the dust of Castello dei Fiori forever, drive back to Naples, and resume her weekend where she had left off. The February afternoon was aglow with crisp sunshine as Nicoletta drove south the following day along the bustling motorway. She made swift progress, eventually veering off into the Southeast of Naples, and arrived punctually at the crossroads between Amalfi and Castello dei Fiori.