Turn Towards the Sun (3 page)

“Sir, we should be there in about twenty minutes.”

Mr. Stoic nods his head
,
still looking at me.

I sit up. “I’m sorry. I bet you didn’t expect so much trouble this morning when you got on that flight.”

“It’s no trouble. I feel terrible getting that drink for you now.”

“I’m sure it’s more the heat and the excitement.”

He smiles again, intoxicating me more than any wine.

A blush creeps across my cheeks once more. “The excitement of moving.” I add.

I look out the window away from his intense gaze, just as we pull into my new apartment complex. I’m relieved to see that it looks just as nice in person as it did on the internet. The buildings themselves are what drew me to it in the first place. They are all
one-story
buildings, no neighbors above or below. My apartment is the corner unit overlooking a small grassy yard. I’m happy to see there is plenty of free parking directly in front. I hope the inside is nice as well.

“No gate Miss Bradshaw?” Mr. Stoic’s voice
turns cold
.

“No gate. Do I need one sir?”

Geez, one minute this guy is so sweet and the next he is so damn bossy.

“It’s
always good to have extra
security,
but this is a good neighborhood.
It should be acceptable.”

Acceptable? Like I need his approval.

“
And no need to call me sir
,
Miss Bradshaw. You are not one of my employees.”

Oh my God.
I still don’t know his name. I let a man take me
home,
and I don’t know his name. My
dad would throw a fit if
he knew.

“So what should I call you then?”

He
raises his eyebrows
. “You have no idea who I am
,
do you?”

“No.”

“Did you hear that Grayson? She has no idea who I am.”
His tone fills
with laughter he doesn’t actually make.

Grayson peers in the rearview mirror. “Amazing sir.”

“Yes
,
amazing. What is your first
name,
Miss Bradshaw?”

Is he famous?
Should I know who
he is
?

“Ava.”

“Ava Bradshaw,” he repeats. “What a nice name.” I try to hold his gaze but really want to look away. Holy hell he’s intense.

“My name is Enzo Milano.”

I stare blankly at him. I don’t know anyone by that name. I’m sure of it. He smiles at me again.

“Well admittedly you wouldn’t read about me in the pages of
People
.”

He’s making fun of me!

“Well then
,
how would I know who you are?”

He throws his head back in
laughter,
and I quietly gasp. A moment ago he was intense and all business but when he
laughs,
he looks young and carefree, like a regular guy.

“You’re more likely to find me in the pages of
Architectural Digest
.”

“I’m sorry—”

He
waves his
hands
.
“Don’t be sorry Miss Bradshaw. I rather like it that you don’t know who I am.” He offers nothing else.

“We’re here.” Grayson announces as he steps out and opens my door. I cup my hand
to
my face to shield my eyes from the bright light and intense heat of the Arizona sun.
I reach to take
Grayson’s hand but
Mr. Stoic, I mean Enzo
,
greets me instead
.
Fancy treatment for a girl wearing yoga pants. He’s much taller than I noticed before, at least six feet. My five foot
three-inch
frame feels very small next to him.

“I’ll walk you in.” It’s not a question.

Grayson steps back and watches as we walk towards the door to my new place. Oh shit, I don’t have the keys! I still have to go to the office.

“I don’t have the keys yet. I’ll need to go pick them up at the office.”

He narrows his eyes. “You don’t have a key? How did the movers get your things inside?”

It seems that I have a little problem on my hands. The movers aren’t here yet and won’t be for two days. How could I drop the ball like this? That’s what I get for being so stubborn and not letting my dad help.

I just need a moment to think.
I can handle this. I really don’t want to involve Enzo further. I do not need a knight in shining armor.

“Listen, you’ve been super
nice,
and I appreciate the ride. But I can take it from here. I feel fine
now,
and the office is just over there.” I point over his shoulder. “You really don’t need to be concerned with me anymore.”

He steps closer to me, not too close. Just close enough. I feel myself holding my breath.

“You don’t have anything in there yet do you?”

I cross my arms and shake my head no.

“When are the movers supposed to be here?”

I really don’t want to answer him. “
Don’t worry about it
.”

He frowns. “You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?
I still expect an answer.”

I sigh. He’s obviously not going to let this go. “Monday.”

“It’s ridiculous for you to go in there with no furniture. Where are you going to sleep?”

“You have a point sir.” I could kick myself right now.

“Stop calling me sir. I’ve told you my name. I want you to use it.”

Fine.
H
ow about I call you Mr. Bossy Pants?

“Okay
Enzo
.
I really didn’t plan this out as well as I thought.” I feel defeated. And stupid. So
far,
‘operation new life’ is failing miserably.

I look up at Enzo
,
who
smiles at me.
His eyes soften and I suddenly feel very comforted.

“Let me help you Miss Bradshaw.”

I lower my eyes. “I don’t believe I have a choice.”

“I have a place you can stay. For two days or as long as you need.”

I
bristle
His place? Oh no, that won’t do.

“It’s a hotel.” He adds.

Oh, a ho
tel. Okay that will work. Wait,
his hotel room?
N
o
,
that won’t work. I’m not sure what to say. He’s being kind, generous
even,
but I don’t want him to have the wrong idea.

“You will have your own private room, Miss Bradshaw.
”
An amused smirk spreads across his face. He thinks this is funny doesn’t he?

I can handle a private room. And a shower. And staring at Mr. Bossy
but
Dreamy a little longer.
But I need to keep my head together. I don’t know this guy at
all,
and I am accepting his generosity out of sheer need at this point.

“I want to get the key first.” I use my best confident voice. He needs to know he’s not going to boss me around.

“As you wish. Then Grayson can take you to your
room,
and I’ll leave you to your day.” He turns and walks towards the rental office.

How is he so cool in that suit in this heat?

W
e ride in silence while Enzo types away on his phone, effectively ignoring my presence. The alcohol is finally wearing
off,
and my body temperature has cooled. For the first
time,
I stop and notice my surroundings. We are not in a limo but a regular car of some sort. Mercedes maybe? He must be rich. He has his own
driver,
and he can take in a wayward girl he found at the airport.
Still,
I do
n’t
recognize his name, Enzo Milano. Nothing a little internet digging can’t resolve.

We drive down Scottsdale R
oad and turn onto Lincoln Boulevard. Driving a bit further, we pull up to a large building that looks rather nondescript from the street. Once we get on the
property,
however, a magnificent Mediterranean style resort appears- its
terra cotta
stucco and abundant plant life masking its desert location. Grayson stops in front of valet and opens my door, then extends his hand. I reach up to take
it,
but he pulls back and
once again,
Enzo is there in his place.

I gotta admit, I dig this
gentleman
business
. I’m unaccustomed to this behavior after spending years with the loser. He expected me to open the doors. Punk.

“Well this is it Ava.” Enzo gestures around the hotel and motions for me to walk with him.

The impressive size of the lobby
branches
off in different directions. The walls are white
stucco,
and the floors appear to be
travertine. The
decor
is sparse and
modern. Abstract prints of sunflowers hang on the
walls,
and fresh flowers dot the room strategically. The coolness of the room surrounds me, seemingly a thousand miles away from the hot Phoenix sun. It’s cool, classy, and very upscale.

“Mr. Milano, so good to see you again.” A tall, cuddly looking man standing behind the front desk greets Enzo. He’s wearing an expensive looking suit and appears to be in his mid-fifties
,
with
wire-rimmed
glasses and honey brown hair.

“Welcome back to Girasole.”

Enzo shakes the man’s hand. “Thank you George. I need an additional room this evening, for a few nights at least.” He nods in my direction. I could not feel more out of place in yoga pants and a “Cupcake Junkie”
t-shirt. Enzo looks in my direction and whispers something to George.

George
walks
towards me. “Please Miss Bradshaw, come this way.”

I walk past Enzo, who smiles and waves as I leave. George leads me through a tree lined, shaded courtyard and stops at room 115.

“We hope this room is to your liking ma’am. It’s near the pool and everything you need should be inside. Please buzz the front desk if there is anything we can do for you.” He turns to leave.

“George?”

“Yes Miss Bradshaw?”

“Um, is Enzo famous or something?”

Nice Ava, real nice.

“You don’t know?
Well,
he owns this hotel.”

He owns it? “I’m new to town.”

“I see.
Well,
Mr. Milano is very
well-known in
these parts.”

George is not terribly
forthcoming,
and I don’t know if he’ll report back to
Enzo,
so I decide I will have to do my own cyber stalking.

“Do you have computers with internet access here George?”

“We have laptop
s in each
room with
complimentary Wi-Fi.”
He smiles and leaves.

No wonder it’s not a big deal for him to be so generous. He owns the joint. I have to admit, it’s the nicest place I’ve ever been.

Inside the room, I am even more astonished. Soft shades of pink and cream cover the walls and bedding. A massive wood bed dominates the room. Stroking the sheets, I marvel at the intense softness.

In the
corner,
there’s a small dining table and a bar area with a sink, mini fridge and
ice maker.
On the wall opposite the bed, a mounted
flat-screen television
sits above the dresser. A
full-length
mirror stands in the corner next to the large closet. Huge French doors open out to a substantial patio overlooking the nearby pool and courtyard. Camelback Mountain looms majestically in the distance. I could live here.

I can’t believe what a crazy day it’s been so far. Meeting Enzo has certainly turned my plans upside down. I didn’t imagine I would be spending my first night in Phoenix in a posh hotel like this.
I hope I’ll have an opportunity to thank him for all of this.

I flip on the TV and try to find something to watch.
Ooh
Food Network. Maybe I can catch that show about cupcakes.

The shrill sound of the telephone in my room startles me.