The Italian's Runaway Princess. Andrea Bolter

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      “Gio,” she blurted out, quickly catching up with him. “Thank you. I would appreciate your help.”

      * * *

      Gio stopped in front of a large building with double doors made of oak, each bearing a brass doorknob. Although the structure was hundreds of years old, the fob entry system was proof it had been updated. When the tiny red light on the mechanism turned to green, Gio opened the door and held it wide for Luci to enter. Pulling her suitcase in with him, he then closed the door behind him. He led her through the stone tunnel passageway that kept the inner property well secluded from the busy streets of Florence.

      The tunnel was a short distance, allowing Gio to see the sunshine that met it at the other end. He and his brother, Dante, used to play all sorts of games in this tunnel when they were kids.

      “Where are we?” Luci asked with understandable trepidation.

      “My home,” Gio said as they came into the light of the central courtyard.

      “Your home?” Luci began to take in the surroundings.

      “My family’s home. No one is here right now, but yes, this is where I grew up.”

      Up until a few days ago, Gio hadn’t been home in many months. As the president of research, development and project management for his family’s company, Grasstech, the world’s largest manufacturer of computer components, Gio spent his life traveling among the company’s operations centers all over the world. He touched down in Florence for crucial in-person meetings or for family occasions, but was then soon boarding a plane to his next destination.

      “This is so beautiful,” Luci exclaimed as she did a slow 360-degree turnaround in the inner courtyard of the villa compound.

      “It’s been in our family for six generations.”

      Indeed, Villa Grassi was a special place. It wasn’t a showy high-tech complex befitting the Grassi family’s standing in the computer science world. Instead the property retained its old-world charms, thanks to Gio’s mother, although with plenty of modern conveniences. The villa comprised several stone buildings, all painted in a mustardy yellow color accented by the red terra-cotta roofs and wood trim.

      “You live here?” Luci asked, still taking in the details of the central garden.

      Mamma mia, but this young woman was pretty. Not just pretty, really, although Gio struggled for the right word to describe her. Soulful, maybe. There was depth in her light brown eyes. They were eyes with questions, eyes that longed. The dark, thick eyebrows that crowned those lovely pools served to set off their radiance even more. The sleek blond hair read as stylish, not that Gio knew much about fashion. Her petite frame was dressed with polish in her black skirt and gray blazer.

      Why did this upscale-looking young woman have only jewels and no money? Something was quite off here, which Gio found suspicious. He would forever keep up his guard after the disastrous mistake he’d made in Hong Kong by trusting the wrong person. People weren’t always who they said they were.

      It seemed all but impossible that this woman in front of him could have somehow staged the incident with the boys on the street so that she could bump into him. That she had known where he was coming from and where he was headed. However, he’d learned the hard way that some people would say or do anything to get what they were after. Danger came in all shapes and sizes.

      “I didn’t understand what you said. Do you live here?”

      “Not since childhood,” he answered, still sizing her up. “But now I am home, so it seems.”

      The two-story main house anchored the buildings. Five steps led to the front door, constructed of the same oak as the door to the street. He looked up to the second-floor window that was his boyhood bedroom. Like all the windows, the sill was adorned with boxes holding plants in bright reds, oranges and yellows befitting the fall season. Beside it was the window in his brother Dante’s bedroom. Late at night they’d tie up sheets to hold on to and swing into each other’s bedrooms like Tarzan. Gio smiled at the antics of his daredevil brother, who hadn’t changed a bit even as an adult.

      In the courtyard, a cast-stone fountain gurgled with water, surrounded by the benches where his grandparents used to spend their afternoons. His grandfather would good-naturedly yell at Gio and Dante to slow down as they played their racing games in the tunnel. Their grandmother, content to sit for hours with her needlework, would ply the boys with blood orange juice from their fruit trees to drink, the color of which was still Gio’s favorite hue in the world.

      “We use the cottages now.” Gio pointed to the two outbuildings beside the house, both of which had entrances that faced the courtyard.

      “You said we. Who is we?”

      “My brother, Dante, and I. And other relatives who come to stay. My parents still live in the big house when they’re here, but we have a vineyard and winery in the countryside where they spend most of their time now that they’ve retired.” His father had built Grasstech from a small purveyor of computer central processing units, known as CPU chips, into the multibillion-dollar conglomerate it was today. “Dante is working with our affiliates in India, now that...”

      Gio was glad he stopped himself. Luci didn’t need to know that Dante had failed at helming the company, which was why Gio had returned to Florence to do just that. Oversharing information had gotten him into trouble in the past, some of which he still needed to find a way to clean up.

      In the silence of stopping himself, he focused on Luci’s attentive face. There was something utterly enchanting about her, with that long stately neck and those curious eyes. She was much shorter than he had noticed at first. Of course, with him so tall, almost everyone was petite to him. Her bowed pink lips complemented her porcelain skin. Her posture was so straight and that throat so graceful she could pass for a noblewoman or a young duchess. Yet she had an inner spunk that made the thought of her as a stuffy royal thoroughly implausible.

      Good heavens! Women should be the last thing on Gio’s mind now that he’d returned home with a to-do list a mile long. And it was a woman who had got the company into trouble in the first place. He would be staying far away from them.

      “That’s the Duomo!” Luci pointed to the top of the dome visible in the distance past the villa walls. Florence’s cathedral was one of the most identifiable sights in the city.

      “Have you been inside?”

      Her enthusiasm was contagious.

      “No. I’m looking forward to seeing it. This is my first time in Florence. You rescued me just as I arrived.”

      A little wiggle traveled between his shoulder blades when she said the word rescued.

      Now that he had, in fact, rescued her, what was he going to do with her? He’d find her a hotel. But some of Grasstech’s investors were in town for dinner and he needed to get dressed, so it had to be quick. He wasn’t looking forward to all their chitchat that bored him to tears. Nothing of substance was ever discussed at these things. Plus they’d all be bringing their stodgy spouses. The wives would ask why a nice young man like him didn’t have a wife or a girlfriend.

      With enough on his mind already, Luci’s problems couldn’t become his. Yet she’d been so shaken by those nasty boys following her, she finally accepted his offer of help.

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