Ruthless Perfection (The Rosa Legacy #1) (8 page)

Silence. Isabel realized she had overstepped her bounds. It was really none of her business.

“When I was young, I insisted on having things my way. I often argued with him about it.” Marc remained silent for a few moments, then continued. “My father thought my art was a useless obsession and used to say frequently that it would employ no one. Always reminding me that the men of Carrara depend on the Santoro quarry for their livelihood. Even after my father’s death, I find it difficult to spend time on design and not the business.”

Isabel willed her body to stay perfectly still, and he continued to chip away at the statue.

The starkness of his comments softened Isabel towards him. “That seems unfair. I think everyone deserves to pursue their real passion.”

“Is that what you do? Pursue your real passion at every turn?” His words mocked her.

Her eyes met his and for a moment, Isabel wondered if the conversation was taking on a hidden meaning. Was he asking about her career or a much more basic desire? Isabel shook her head. “No, not always. But I’m starting to...”

She closed her eyes briefly and her arms instinctively shielded her body. She didn’t want to feel anything for him. Especially not desire or longing. He was definitely out of the realm of possibility. His desire to seek physical perfection in his artwork and designs eliminated her as a possibility. He would be repulsed by her body.

“You are no longer in position.”

Opening her eyes, she found him watching her. It was impossible to miss the flash of desire in the depths of his eyes or in the way his gaze flickered over her body.

“I should return to the party.” Isabel hesitated by the doorway.

“Yes, find your escape and stay in your clearly defined role.” His cool words were delivered as he turned back toward his sculpture.

Isabel was infuriated. As she pushed the elevator button, she wondered why he felt the need to challenge her. It was better for both of them if they ignored the chemistry between them. He wasn’t interested in a traditional relationship and she wasn’t willing to reveal her secret. She reminded herself that it was much better that they didn’t act on their desire. But still she wanted to return to him, which didn’t make any sense. Why was she so drawn to him?

He was a billionaire who ran an empire, why was he sculpting a blank piece of marble during a party?

Chapter 6

Four days later, Isabel rang the doorbell to Alda Santoro’s brownstone in Beacon Hill. Even though it was the beginning of May, it was overcast and damp so she wore a black pencil skirt with a pink cashmere short-sleeved sweater.

She knew Marc wanted her to join him for lunch with his aunt but wasn’t sure why. She thought it had to do with the travel arrangements for the upcoming trip.

A uniformed maid answered the door and brought Isabel into a formal sitting room. Glancing around, she was impressed with the architecture and beautiful furnishings. Her eyes were drawn to a vase of white lilies set on the round table near the sofa.

The maid said softly, “Mrs. Santoro will be with you shortly.”

“Isabel.” Marc walked into the room and his eyes raked over her in a swift male appraisal.

Instead of looking away, she met his gaze and for a moment became lost in the intensity of it. She was becoming more attracted to him with each passing day. It would wreak havoc with her work.

Isabel took a step away from him. “Is there a problem?” She could sense an underlying tension about him.

“I have some concerns about the grant you have secured for the project. Hopefully Alda will be able to shed some light on the reason you were selected.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Alda sits on the board of the foundation that gave you the grant for this project, even going so far as to specify Santoro Designs.”

“I presented my grant application in both writing and in person and her name was never mentioned.”

Marc ran a hand through his short hair. “Alda was behind the scenes the entire time clamoring for you. This has the potential of turning into a public relations nightmare for my company. It’ll look like Santoro Designs purchased your film.”

Shock infiltrated every pore of her body. How could she have not realized that Alda Santoro was on the board?

“Foundations have tons of people on their boards. It’s how they raise money for projects. There must be a reasonable explanation.”

Marc went to a drinks cabinet built into the wall and poured two glasses of seltzer with lime over ice. He handed her the antique crystal glass and sat on the sofa.

The silence unnerved her as she waited for his response. He finally said, “You’ll need to look for other funding.”

“It can take a year or more to have a grant request approved. I’ve already been working on this grant for ten months.”

Isabel stood completely still, clutching her glass as the uneasiness washed over her. She needed this job, and would not allow a technicality to ruin this opportunity for her. She’d had no idea Alda was on the board. There had to be a way to resolve the look of nepotism. Possibly Alda could give a statement.

Alda swept into the room, looking chic and capable in a black wool dress with an elaborate necklace.

“Marc, dear.” She kissed him on each check. “Isabel, thank you for coming.” Alda embraced her warmly and kissed each cheek. “I was delayed by a small staff crisis, but now we can sit down to lunch.”

Alda led them to the dining room. Isabel noticed that the table was already elaborately set for three and wished that she could escape the entire situation.

The servant appeared and asked Alda about the wine selection.

Isabel’s gaze was drawn to Marc even though she tried to concentrate on what Alda was saying. At the formally set dining room table, he looked more formidable than ever. The light made his angular face seem even sharper and more unforgiving. She could feel anxiety bloom in the pit of her stomach.

A uniformed maid served her a garden salad from a serving trolley, then used a pair of silver tongs to place a roll on her bread and butter plate.

Isabel resolutely tried to make herself relax in the chair, but her nerves were jumpy and she soon sat forward, her hands twisting in her lap.

Glancing at Marc, she felt his gaze flick over her. She straightened her spine; she didn’t feel ready to fight a battle, but she needed to save this project. She had already invested a considerable amount of time and effort in the planning and research. This film would allow her to prove herself as a filmmaker as well as honor Alberto.

“So, this is an odd coincidence. Alda selecting to fund your documentary about Carrara through an arts organization while your grandfather approached me about having the Santoro quarry as the subject,” Marc said.

Isabel felt dread building low in her belly. “As I’ve told you, when I approached the arts organization, I didn’t realize your aunt was on the board.”

“Well, now that is has come to light, don’t you think that it may be perceived as a conflict of interest within the industry? Basically Santoro Designs is funding this piece, almost as if it is a public relations video?” Isabel noticed the slight raising of Marc’s eyebrows, as he regarded her coolly.

She stared at him. “I had no idea when I approached you or I would have told you.”

Alda said, “I recused myself from the vote as soon as I realized Isabel intended to use Santoro Designs.”

“It didn’t seem odd that her last name was Neri?”

Alda smiled at her nephew, saying, “The arts organization gets hundreds of requests. I don’t see most of the requests until it’s time to vote. At that point, I recused myself. I don’t see the issue.”

“You didn’t have the clause written in specifying Santoro Designs? I reviewed the original grant application and there wasn’t a particular quarry specified.”

Alda answered, “No. Maybe it came up in the pitch session. It is my understanding that your grandfather accompanied you to the interview?”

Isabel hesitated as she remembered the interview. “He may have spoken about Santoro Designs. I can’t remember exactly, but my grandfather from the beginning insisted that Santoro Quarry was the logical quarry to focus on. And he had a connection to the Santoro family so I was able to get an interview.”

“Yes, a connection he used. But I doubt it is that simple.” Marc turned to his aunt. “Did you meet privately with Alberto Neri to discuss the grant application?”

Alda gestured dismissively. “You are making a big deal of this, but I can assure you that nothing underhanded has taken place. There were no direct conversations between Santoro Designs and the Mayes Arts Organization. You had no prior knowledge of the grant, and I recused myself as soon as I realized that Isabel intended to use Santoro. You are worrying about nothing.”

Alda deftly moved the conversation to inquire about the trip. “I’m quite looking forward to being in Carrara for the opening of the opera season.”

Isabel stole a look at Marc and found him watching her with a skeptical look on his face. It did seem odd that Alda Santoro was part of the Mayes Arts Organization. She was surprised Alberto hadn’t mentioned it, but maybe he didn’t know either?

Marc said, “I’m going to have my public relations firm put out a statement acknowledging the connection between the organizations and explain that you recused yourself and that I had no knowledge on the funding source. Aunt Alda, you’ll need to stay clear of any conversations about this film and be careful of promoting it.”

Isabel noticed that Alda made no such promise. She began to wonder if Alda and Alberto had discussed the grant application. It would certainly have given her an unfair advantage.

“Alda, I don’t feel comfortable with this. My intention in writing the grant proposal was not to use a family connection to gain an unfair advantage.”

Alda smiled at her. “I can assure you, Isabel, that your application stood on its own merit and I didn’t unfairly advocate for you. The truth is that it is a wonderful, worthy project.”

With that, Alda motioned for dessert to be served, and a servant appeared with a rich chocolate custard tartlet.

Alda stood up and clutched her chest. “I feel so strange, as if a heavy weight has been placed on my chest.”

Marc immediately took charge and had his aunt sit back down, asking her to take in a calming breath. He subtly asked Isabel to alert the staff that Alda needed to go to the hospital.

Alda shook her head and insisted she was fine.

Isabel softly said, “Alda, you need to be checked out by a doctor just in case.”

Marc discretely called for an ambulance to take them to the hospital.

Alda stood, saying, “Would you come with us, dear? I don’t like hospitals and I don’t want Marc to be alone.”

“Of course.”

Within minutes, the emergency medical team had Alda safely in an ambulance. Marc and Isabel headed out the door and into a waiting limo. As Isabel listened to Marc giving instructions to the driver, she tried to dispel the memories of her last visit to Boston General Hospital. She remembered a hazy ambulance ride and crying out in pain as the emergency team worked on her.

“Are you familiar with the hospital?” Marc asked.

Instead of answering, she merely nodded and tried to clear her head of that awful night. It had taken a long time to recover, but as Isabel smoothed down the fabric that covered her legs, she realized that it was indeed behind her.

Marc remained silent until the limo pulled up to the hospital. As they walked into the emergency room adjacent to the main hospital, they were able to walk alongside the stretcher. Isabel reached out and squeezed Alda’s hand reassuringly and the small gesture was returned with a worried smile.

Isabel watched Marc with his aunt and the tenderness he showed to her. He automatically slowed his pace to allow Alda to feel that there was no urgency to their visit, and he spoke with the hospital staff.

They had been asked to go to the waiting room while a heart specialist examined Alda. The several minutes they were kept waiting felt like an eternity.

Isabel took the opportunity to look at Marc. He seemed engrossed in his phone until his eyes suddenly met hers. “Are you suitably impressed?”

“Excuse me?” She was forced to return his stare and felt as if she were caught doing something wrong. She tried to pretend otherwise.

“You were staring at me. Do you deny that?” His eyes held her gaze.

“I was just thinking that you don’t look like Alda.” Isabel was relieved and grateful that her mind was able to come up with a plausible explanation so quickly. She had already noticed he didn’t resemble Alda in looks or personality. Alda was quite petite and had hazel eyes and fair skin. He was darker, with black hair and aristocratic features, which included a long nose and masculine jaw that already had a faint shadow of a beard. He must’ve known how gorgeous he was, so why was he trying to make her feel uncomfortable?

“No, I take after my mother’s family.”

“Does Alda have any history of heart problems?”

“Not that I know of. She has always been in good health.”

The minutes ticked by as they waited for the cardiologist. When they were called back in, the resident assured them the specialist would be there shortly.

Alda had changed to a hospital gown and was resting comfortably on a movable bed.

The resident explained that her blood work showed elevated enzymes indicating a heart incident and they were giving her medicine to control the rhythm of her heartbeat. After a short period, the cardiologist met with them and explained that Alda needed a procedure to look at the vessels feeding her heart. They recommended having it immediately and if possible they would be able to place a stent to increase the blood flow to her heart. If they were not able to place a stent, they would need to send her to surgery.

Marc moved to Alda’s bedside and held her hand. “Don’t worry,
Zia Alda
. This procedure is considered routine.”

Alda said, “If something happens to me, please listen to your heart and don’t remain alone. I want you to be happy.”