Chapter 6

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Victoria has always been a little afraid of flying. In her entire life, she flew by plane only once - on honeymoon with Andrew to the Spanish Costa Brava. She spent the rest of her conscious life in London, where she was born and grew up.

She called her supervisor from the physiotherapy center in the morning and asked for a day off due to unforeseen circumstances. The girl knew that at work they always dissatisfied with any unexpected holidays, because finding a replacement for her on such a short notice was almost impossible. The boss, of course, scolded her but she had no choice.

A little nervous before the flight, the girl settled in the airport cafe with a cup of cappuccino and a morning newspaper to pass the time. Aside from the unexpected trip, Andrew's news yesterday completely threw her off balance. She was worried about his future and felt insecure and devastated. The only thing that calmed her was that she would return home again in the evening.

"Extraordinary snowfalls in Italy" - suddenly one of the newspaper headlines caught Victoria's gaze.

"Hmm, I imagined a sunny Italy a little differently... I wonder if I'll have time to try a real Italian cappuccino." Victoria thought with anticipation in order to somehow distract herself from heavy thoughts. "And the pasta a la carbonara..."

A dreamy smile illuminated her face. She suddenly remembered the famous expression that if you can't change the situation, you can try to change your attitude towards it, and decided to treat this forced trip as a little adventure.

Two hours of flight flew by very quickly. Victoria fell asleep almost immediately after boarding the plane, and it turned out to be the best cure for the fear of flying.

Florence met her with an overcast sky and cold drizzling rain. February in Italy is almost always cold and inhospitable - the exact opposite of the summer months.

"It's almost like London," the girl chuckled to herself at the exit from the airport, tying her scarf tighter.

"I wonder where is this Riccardo who was supposed to meet me."

Victoria's eyes ran anxiously through a huge crowd of people - visitors and greeters - who had gathered at the airport. Now, she's going to give this Italian guy his tachograph card and his dashboard recorder and go look for a nice restaurant where you can try real Italian pasta carbonara while waiting for the return flight. The airport of Florence seemed quite large, with a huge selection of restaurants for every taste.

"Signora Marshall?" Suddenly a low, dry voice called her from behind.

Victoria turned around. Right behind her stood a tall lean man, a little gray at the temples, wearing an elegant coat and a classic scarf around his neck.

"Riccardo Del Rio?" The girl replied with a question, carefully examining the man.

"Hmm, so it's you," said the man, nodding with satisfaction, instinctively wincing from the cold lingering rain drizzling right in his face. "I'm Matteo Rossi, director of the Del Rio Corporation. Riccardo asked me to pick you up at the airport, he couldn't come himself. Let's go to the car, the weather is terrible today."

"But... I just have to hand over some things, why should we go anywhere?" Victoria tried to object while taking out a tachograph card from her bag. - Here, I have everything here ...

"Signora Marshall, Riccardo asked me to take you to the office so that you could help fill out some related paperwork for insurance," Matteo disagreed. "Since Andrew could not come himself... Let's go quickly, otherwise we'll get wet. Do you have a suitcase?"

"No, I'm going back to London tonight. I wasn't carrying any luggage at all," said the girl, humbly following Matteo to the car.

Del Rio Corporation was presented with an impressive size car showroom, with a huge glass case and an incredible selection of exclusive cars exhibited on several floors. Matteo parked his car near the main entrance to the building and opened the door in front of the girl.

          

Victoria stepped out of the car, pleasantly noting to herself the unfamiliar for her Italian courtesy. Andrew never opened the car door for her.

"This way, to the right, please, towards the stairs," said Matteo. "Riccardo's office is on the second floor. I will accompany you."

After climbing up the stairs, Matteo knocked with caution and, slightly opening the door of the boss's office, looked inside.

"Riccardo, signora Marshall, Andrew's wife, has arrived," he said on duty. "Shall I let her in?"

"Yes, come on. Let's finish this question while we're at it," said Riccardo wearily.

After letting Victoria in, Matteo left tactfully. The girl noted to herself that Riccardo's office looked even more impressive than the car dealership itself. His desk and filing cabinets were completely made of mahogany in classic Italian style, she noted admiringly to herself. Soft leather sofas next to a coffee table, also made of mahogany, there were on the side. There was a faintly perceptible fragrance of bergamot and musk in the air. She had seen such luxury only in pictures in magazines.

"How was your flight, Mrs. Marshall?" In pure English, in a dry and diplomatic manner, asked Riccardo, turning towards her on a computer chair, and mute silence hung in the air.

By those few stories of Andrew about his despotic Italian boss, Victoria had the impression of him as an ever-grumping tyrannical old man, chronically dissatisfied with everything. Instead, a young, tanned guy with dark curly hair and a welcoming smile, dressed in a snow-white shirt and dark jeans, was staring at her.

Ricardo, absolutely overwhelmed by the problems that suddenly fell on him with a knee injury, a truck accident and Emilia leaving him, just wanted to end this story with insurance as soon as possible and report to Darren Lace that everything was settled, when suddenly the angel himself appeared in front of him. At least, that's how it seemed like to him.

Misses Marshall looked remarkably feminine in her lovely white coat and thick knitted scarf around her neck. Her long blond hair, slightly wet from the rain, flowed in graceful waves down her shoulders and back. That's not at all how he imagined the wife of the bald and flabby Andrew. What is she doing with him anyway?

"Good, thank you," breaking her initial stupor, the girl answered shyly.

Riccardo's face split into a wide white-toothed smile. He examined his guest with undisguised interest and without a drop of embarrassment.

"Please, sit down, " he suggested, pointing to the sofa. "Mrs. Marshall, so... may I ask your name?"

"Victoria, " the girl answered with restraint, as she sat on the couch.

"Would you mind if I call you by your first name, Victoria? " Ricardo asked with a charming smile. "Mrs. Marshall, I associate with an elderly matron. "

Overcome by the charm of a young Italian, Victoria lost all will to resist. She shook her head.

"I don't mind."

"Victoria is it your first time in Italy?" Riccardo asked, tilting his head to one side, with a wide smile.

"Yes," the girl nodded.

"Are you visiting for long ?" he continued, without taking his eyes off his guest.

"Well... I just flew in to give you some evidence for insurance," she said. "Tonight I'm flying back to London. Here you are."

With these words, she opened the bag and handed Riccardo the video recorder and a card of the onboard tachometer of the truck. He rose with difficulty from his chair and, limping on his bad leg, walked up to her.

"Thank you. I got a knee injury yesterday during the descent in the ski resort," he explained, noticing her questioning look at his limp.

Riccardo sat down gently beside her on the sofa. The intoxicating scent of musk that came from him made Victoria shudder.

"Here, Victoria, I'd like you to fill out these forms for our insurance company. Here you need to enter your husband's personal data and some other details. Then I'll ask Matteo to send it to our insurance agent immediately," Riccardo said handing her the papers. "There's a copy in English here, you can fill in this one."

Victoria leaned over the coffee table, focusing on the paperwork. To his surprise, Riccardo couldn't take his eyes off her. This unexpected guest made an unforgettable impression on him by her restraint and gentleness.

"Have you eaten yet, Victoria?" he suddenly asked.

"No, not yet," said the girl without breaking away from the papers. "When we're done and I'm back at the airport, I thought I'd try some real carbonara pasta somewhere.

Riccardo laughed out loud.

"Well, who will want to get acquainted with the exquisite Italian cuisine in the airport restaurants?" he asked enthusiastically. "You can be sure that at the airport you can easily get a microwave warmed up pasta from a frozen bag! If you let me, I'm going to take you to an amazing restaurant nearby. The chef there is just a magician. Agree? "

Victoria thought for a moment. This young man had absolutely nothing to do with the tyrant Andrew told her about. Is this even the same Riccardo Del Rio?

"Well, why not," she said struck by his charm, "But I have a return flight at six o'clock in the evening. Do we make it on time to the airport?"

"Don't worry,"' said Riccardo happily. "I will personally take you there right after dinner."

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