Nico had to think for a moment. But then he always had to think when Aurora was around—she brought him no peace.
He thought of the dark green uniforms that looked so elegant against the old Roman and sophisticated Florentine buildings, and worked well in both England and France, and then he joined the dots she had led him to with her mention of ‘the Englishman’s Merry |Men’.
‘You mean Robin Hood?’
‘Who?’ Aurora frowned. and then she gave him a tiny smile to say of course she knew who he meant and was teasing him.
Their minds jostled, and she could see he was fighting not to return her smile. She was still looking at Nico’s full mouth, with a smile on her own, when Vincenzo cleared his throat and spoke up.
‘We think that Silibri should have a more casual feel.’
‘It’s a five-star hotel.’ Nico gave a shake of his head. ‘I do not want my staff looking casual.’
‘Of course not,’ Vincenzo agreed. ‘But there is a stunning French navy linen, and teamed with crisp white shirts…’
‘We would look like sailors,’ Aurora sulked.
Nico pressed the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb. What the hell had he been thinking? What had possessed him to venture into Silibri? He should have sold the land there and been done with it…
Yet as he sat there he recalled Aurora’s emphatic no when he had suggested that the night after—
Damn, no matter how he tried to avoid it, all roads led to that night.
Nico forced himself back to the moment: what in God’s name was he doing, sitting here discussing fabric? It was his hotel and it had been four years in the making.
The trouble with the Silibri venture was that the staff considered it to be their hotel too. They were all so involved and took it all so personally.
‘What about the same green as the other hotels, but in linen?’ Francesca suggested.
Aurora shook her head.
‘That just takes us back to the Merry Men,’
‘So what do you suggest, Aurora?’ Nico threw down his pen in exasperation.
Of course she had an immediate answer. ‘Persian Orange.’
From her seemingly bottomless bag she produced several swatches of fabric and proceeded to pass them around. It was a linen blend that wouldn’t crease, she assured them, and with one look Nico knew she was right.
‘It is the colour of the temple ruins and the monastery just before sunset,’ Aurora said. ‘And you know how beautiful Silibri looks at that time of night. Mother Nature chose her colours wisely.’
‘It is a bold colour,’ Vincenzo objected. ‘A touch too bold, perhaps?’
‘I don’t agree that it is too bold; it is, in fact, quite plain,’ Aurora refuted, then cocked her head to the side.
Nico watched as her knowing eyes weighed up Vincenzo.
‘Are you worried that it might clash with your red hair?’
‘Of course not…’ Vincenzo was flustered and smoothed said red hair down.
‘Because,’ Aurora continued, ‘we could have bespoke shades on the same theme, with Persian Orange being the main one.’
‘Bespoke shades…?’ Vincenzo checked.
And Nico watched silently as his marketing manager warmed to his new assistant’s idea, and watched, too, Aurora’s small, self-satisfied smile as of course she got her way.
Heaven help Vincenzo, Nico thought, trying to manage her. Because Aurora could not be managed nor contained.
She was as Sicilian as Mount Etna, as volatile as the volcano it was famous for, and she could not be beguiled or easily charmed. She was perceptive and assiduous and…
And he refused to give in to her ways.
‘I’ll consider it,’ Nico said.
‘Consider it?’ Aurora checked. ‘But what is there to consider when it’s perfect?’
‘There is plenty to consider.’ Nico snapped. ‘Next.’
It had been scheduled as a thirty-minute meeting but in the end it took sixty-three—and of course it did not end there.