Ruthless Perfection (The Rosa Legacy #1) (7 page)

Marc stepped into the space and was immediately drawn to the storyboard. She watched as he examined all of the elements displayed, images, outlines and proposed scenes.

“It’s not ready for review. I’m still fine-tuning it.” Her apartment seemed very small with him in it.

“Your work is impressive,” he said.

Isabel tried not to let surprise show on her face and instead smiled and said, “Thank you.”

“The project still has a long way to go. Would you like a coffee?”

“I should go.”

The intensity of his gaze held her captive as he moved forward and placed a kiss on her cheek.

She stood motionless as he turned and left her apartment. The gesture felt strangely intimate and her mind tried to make sense of his actions.

Chapter 5

Isabel finished editing the short film that would be presented at the cocktail reception that evening. She had included clips from interviews at Santoro Designs along with still photography from Carrara. Glancing at her phone, she let out a shriek as she realized she needed to be walking out the door that minute.

The invitation had indicated “
formal attire required
” but she had no interest in wearing a revealing gown. She had too many scars from the accident to wear a typical cocktail dress. She chose a long black pencil skirt with an intricate embroidered design and paired it with a button-down white silk shirt. She added high black leather boots and a long necklace. Looking in the mirror, she realized she looked ready for work and not a cocktail party, but at least her body was covered.

Taking a bus to the Fort Channel area, she walked the few blocks to Santoro Designs. As she approached, she could see the building was illuminated and well-dressed people were beginning to arrive.

Simone, the receptionist, in a sexy black off the shoulder dress, was greeting guests at the door and checking people in with a hand-held device.

She murmured to Isabel, “Didn’t you realize it was formal?”

“It’s also a work event for me and I plan to take some photographs.” Isabel defended herself and moved away from Simone. Glancing around the room, she took in the crowds of people chatting and drinking champagne. She hoped to fade into the background, but she realized her outfit made her more visible.

As she took a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, she caught Marc’s gaze and felt her stomach tighten. She watched in fascination as he politely moved away from a group of people and came toward her. He wore a pristine tuxedo and looked impossibly handsome.

“
Buona sera
, Isabel.” He kissed her cheek and she felt her body react to him.

She met his eyes and waited for his scathing review of her outfit.

“In a few minutes, I’ll make an announcement about the film and you can say a few words about the project before the short film. You should check in with the technician to upload the video file.”

She nodded and tried to suppress the reaction she was having to his nearness. Her entire body felt sensitized and she could barely take a breath. Why did her body react to him?

Alberto joined them and hugged her enthusiastically. He seemed so happy and carefree tonight. “
Cara
, why didn’t you wear a gown?”

Isabel wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. She knew her grandfather must have no idea that her scars prevented her from wearing a gown, but she felt hurt that he didn’t realize.

Marc answered for her. “It is also a work event. Isabel is going to reveal the concept for the documentary tonight.”

Isabel took another swallow of her champagne. She met his gaze and had the feeling that Marc knew more that he was letting on. Why else would he let her off the hook so easily?

Marc said in a clipped tone, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to check on a few details.”

Isabel glanced at her grandfather, “
Nonno
, I can’t wear anything revealing with all of the scars,” she told him in a hushed tone.

“I’m sorry, Isabel. I forgot. You are always so beautiful, I didn’t remember.”

He looked so formidable in his tuxedo, but she knew he regretted getting pushed into early retirement and that he missed his wife of almost fifty years. But while the marble industry was her grandfather’s passion, her father didn’t agree with his steadfast commitment. It had nearly bankrupted Alberto and he had worked exceedingly hard for years for almost no return.

“It’s lovely that your old friends have come to support the film.” Isabel held his hand.

“I wish your grandmother were alive to savor this moment.” He squeezed her hand. “It means the world to me that you are documenting the Carrara experience.”

Isabel thought of all the stories that her grandfather and his friends shared about the quarries. Looking around, she saw many familiar faces.

“You should visit with your old friends. You see me all of the time,” Isabel told him.

Alda Santoro approached her and she warmly greeted the older woman. Twice in the past week Marc had introduced Isabel to his aunt and it seemed as if they were already old friends. They spoke for several minutes before Alda graciously excused herself.

Isabel placed her empty champagne glass on a tray and went to help set up the presentation. A technician was standing ready with a clip-on microphone for her and helped her upload the file and then gave her the remote to begin the presentation.

She rehearsed her speech in her head and waited for Marc. She caught sight of him across the room and was surprised to see he had removed his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and had unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt. Was it to make her comfortable? He looked more relaxed, but his intensity was still razor sharp. She smiled briefly when she caught his gaze and then purposely looked away.

Within seconds, he joined her, and the technician put a microphone on him as well.

“All set?” he whispered to her, and she could smell his spicy cologne, a masculine scent of leather and vetiver.

Marc immediately caught the attention of the assembled guests. After a few lighthearted jokes, he turned more serious. He spoke about the challenges of the industry and how so much has changed. He then talked about Alberto encouraging his granddaughter to document the old way of life in Carrara.

Isabel noticed her grandfather becoming emotional and her heart warmed. Watching the guests, she saw they hung on Marc’s every word and nodded their agreement. He spoke about her background as a talented filmmaker.

“It is with great pleasure that I introduce, Alberto Neri’s granddaughter, Isabel Neri.”

Isabel began her rehearsed words but felt on edge with Marc standing so close to her. The audience was polite as they listened to her describe the project, and as she acknowledged Marc’s support, a cheer went through the crowd.

She pointed the remote at the screen and with a shaking hand pressed play. Nothing happened. She tried again.

Marc joked about technology and somehow started the short film to provide a short glimpse of what the actual film would be.

Images of Carrara flashed on the screen to a voiceover she had recorded from several interviews. She had compiled as many pictures as she could and the audience closely followed the short film.

When it was over, everyone applauded, and then Marc reminded them all to enjoy the open bar and buffet. She knew that the evening was a huge success based on the enthusiasm and energy evident in the assembled guests.

Isabel removed her cordless microphone and placed it on the table before escaping to the outside veranda. The emotion of the evening pierced her composure. She didn’t want to disappoint her parents, yet she felt the need to honor her grandfather. Her connection to Marc was beginning to feel too intimate. It would have been simpler if she’d chosen a different path for her first major project.

Several guests approached her to ask questions about the project. She was kept busy for quite a while listening to stories from Carrara. She noticed Marc mingled, greeting most guests and stopping by for a chat with many of the old-timers.

Just as she was trying to find a polite way to extricate herself from an older woman who wanted to know why Alberto wasn’t interested in dating, Marc appeared at her side.

He nodded to the woman as he gently guided Isabel away, saying, “Please excuse us; we have a few things to discuss.”

Marc took her hand, and they walked to the elevator. Isabel became conscious of curious glances from those who were nearby.

When the doors opened on the sixth floor, Isabel stepped off and looked around the dark space.

“I had about as much polite, small talk as I can handle.” Marc moved forward and turned on a few lights.

Isabel followed him into the space. “It seemed successful. Everyone I spoke with was excited to hear about the film.”

“It’s not often that Santoro Designs hosts an event, so I think people were curious.” His voice was sensual and inviting, almost as if he was trying to draw her in.

“What did you think of the film?”

“Would you care for a drink?” he asked her. He walked over to the drinks cabinet and made two vodka martinis.

He handed her a drink and waited for her to take a sip. The drink tasted delicious and she cautioned herself to be careful. She needed to keep her mind clear and not to allow herself to become too comfortable.

Marc took a swallow of his martini, and paused for a moment before saying, “I thought you did an extraordinary job with the short film. The images were compelling and it began to tell a story but left the audience hanging. Well done.”

Isabel smiled at him. “I can’t wait to film at the quarry.”

Marc took a step toward her and from the intensity of his gaze and the way he held his powerful body still, there was no mistaking the chemistry between them. But it was impossible to give into her desire; it would only end badly if he saw her disfigurement.

Her mind tried to come up with a plausible reason to break the subtle attraction between them. “Roberto told me you often will work on a statue or sculpture to relax.”

Marc stepped forward and gently brushed away an escaped wisp of hair from her cheek. “Did he?”

“Do you have anything that I could see?” Isabel said as she stepped back.

He gave her a darkly handsome smile. “Yes, come. I’ll show you.”

He led Isabel into a workroom off of his private office and turned on the lights. The space was huge with a large bank of windows to let the sun in.

Stepping further into the space, he pulled a covering off of a block of marble. Examining it closely, she could begin to see the outline of a figure.

Her dark hair cascaded around her shoulders in a sleek, straight style, adding unexpected grace to her look. Marc suppressed an urge to move closer to her and in irritation questioned what was so alluring about her. He knew instinctively it was a desire so basic it defied reason. If he was not careful, he would walk right into her neatly set trap. She would want him to tell all. Explain how he became a ruthless industrialist—as they called him—who kept everyone at a distance.

Yet there was something so compelling about her inquisitiveness, so tempting. If he was a lesser man, he would allow himself to be tempted. But he was in control of his own destiny, and she would want him to unlock part of himself that he had no intention of sharing.

If he was not careful, he would walk right into a trap carefully set by Alberto or Alda. The older generation wanted him to take a wife, and looking back at the block of marble for a second, he acknowledged that they hit the nail on the head with Isabel. She was beautiful, talented and had a mind of her own and he felt drawn to her in a way that he couldn’t remember ever experiencing.

He looked at her and could feel his body tighten in response. “Would you model for the sculpture?” His voice seemed overly loud in the open space, and when she turned toward him, she seemed surprised that he had asked her.

When she turned to look again at the block of marble, he realized he wanted her. He wanted to explore her graceful body and capture her response.

Her gaze caught his. “Do you mean fully dressed?”

“Whatever you are comfortable with.”

Isabel looked nervous. “I wouldn’t be comfortable removing my clothes.”

Marc stepped toward her. “It doesn’t matter. Stand here and turn your head, moving your chin to your shoulder.”

He reached out and positioned her shoulders and head. He felt a tremor run through her body as he breathed in the scent of her perfume.

He rolled up his sleeves, and flexed his shoulders. After taking a few measurements, he lifted his chisel and hammer and started methodically chipping away at the pure white slab of marble. 

She noticed Marc stiffened before blanking out any expression. His eyes darkened and it was difficult to tell what he was thinking.

He began to make marks on the sculpture.

“Why don’t you let people know that you create some of the work produced here?”

“It’s better for the business not to disclose the artists’ names. The expectation is that all work is top-notch. I employ a staff of extremely talented workers. I wouldn’t want a client to specify a particular artist’s work.”

Isabel felt his gaze on her as he kept going back and forth between her and the sculpture. It was fascinating being a stand-in for him. He seemed more relaxed and accessible to her as he chipped away at the rough statue.

She was fascinated by the intensity with which he studied the statue. He seemed to be blocking out everything; then suddenly he would begin chipping away at the marble in swift, decisive strokes.

“I don’t think it is widely known that you create sculptures. I think most people just see you as a businessman.”

“Try to keep still. It was not something that brought joy to my family. My father in particular was horrified by the idea of his son wanting to sculpt instead of deal in marble.”

“That must have been difficult for you,” Isabel said.

“No, I am a very fortunate man. Three generations have worked exceedingly hard to create the business that now thrives. Marble is in my blood. And there was a compromise of sorts after my father’s death as Santoro & Sons became Santoro Designs, allowing me to push the company in new directions.” Marc took a sip of his drink.