Stefano would be doing the same thing for her father. But not Stefano’s own father... Though she knew his sister would be queen one day, she wondered how King Basilio really felt about losing his firstborn son this way. Was Stefano conflicted, as well?
“It’s very generous of you to drive us to the chalet this late, Enzo.”
“After all the things Stefano has done for me in my life, I’ll never be able to repay him.” She heard real affection in his tone. Stefano remained quiet.
The snow continued relentlessly as they climbed in altitude to the higher peaks. Enzo was being very careful. Few cars were on the treacherous mountain road, the kind where Alberto had lost his life.
She sat back, growing more anxious because they’d be alone soon in his private home away from civilization.
Before long Enzo turned off the main road and drove along what seemed like a path lined with snow-swept pines winding for several miles. Eventually, he pulled up to a massive gate that swung open electronically. He drove on through and around to an alpine chalet whose roof was covered by at least two feet of snow, but she could barely see the outline.
Stefano got out to help her. She was glad he’d thought ahead and had brought her new boots to put on. The snow was deep. Under the fresh layer coming down lay more snow from other storms. Enzo took the bags from his car, and they entered Stefano’s secret domain.
A light went on. The lower level housed everything; shovels, hunting gear, skis, snowshoes, camping gear, snowboards, a snow-shoveling machine, a generator, a freezer and a washer and dryer. Stefano could live here self-contained.
“Shall we go upstairs?”
Lanza followed him and Enzo to the next floor where several lamps went on. She was struck immediately by the light wood floors and rafters. On one wall she saw an enormous fireplace set behind glass, lending the vaulted room a chic yet rustic elegance. Stefano turned it on so the flames lit up the interior. Instant heat.
Attractive twin couches in a claret color faced each other in front of a low, large square coffee table with a colorful ceramic pot. It was probably from Mexico where she’d heard one of his gold mines was located.
On one wall stood a massive breakfront with books on two shelves. There were many small pictures of Stefano’s family on a third shelf. The bottom one contained magazines and board games.
She turned around to view the floor-to-ceiling windows that would give a spectacular mountain outlook during the day. There was a refectory-style table and chairs off the kitchen with its wood cabinets and slate floors.
Enzo had disappeared down a hallway with their luggage. When he reappeared, he paused at the stairway. “I wish the two of you every happiness and a wonderful honeymoon. Now I’ve got to get back to my own wife.”
“Thank you for everything, Enzo.”
“My pleasure.”
“Be careful going down the canyon. That’s a heavy snow out there.”
He smiled. “We’re used to it, aren’t we, Stefano?”
Her husband nodded. “I’ll walk you out.” Before he left the room, he turned to Lanza. “I’m sure you must be exhausted. Your bedroom is down the hall to the left. Just so you know, earlier this month I asked Carla to buy you some winter clothes. When I returned to Umbriano a few days ago, I put them in your closet.”
“That was very thoughtful. Thank you.”
He nodded. “If you’re hungry or thirsty, make yourself at home in the kitchen. I have things to do so I’ll see you in the morning and we’ll talk then.” The two men disappeared down the stairs.
In the letter Stefano had couriered to her a year ago, he’d warned Lanza there’d be no wedding night. She’d taken him at his word and there’d been no mention of it during their exchange of emails.
While they were gone, Lanza explored the rest of the chalet. There were two bedrooms with light wood floors, rugs and en-suite bathrooms. Her bags had been put in what was obviously a guest bedroom with a queen-size bed and dresser. A TV sat on top of it. She removed her coat and boots, putting them in the closet where she saw the winter clothes.
After finding a pair of flats in one of her cases, she put them on and decided to do the rest of her own unpacking in a little while.
Curious to see everything, she went across the hall. Stefano’s bedroom showed signs of being permanently occupied with a cubby full of various winter wear. He had his own TV and radio. A mural that showed the Casale gold mines around the world took up one wall. She intended to study it, but not when he was around.
The desk on the other wall contained a state-of-the-art computer and printer, ledgers, mining books, everything he needed for his work. His bags had been placed at the end of the king-size bed.
Afraid to be caught trespassing in his thoroughly masculine domicile, she hurried back to the living room and wandered into the kitchen. The fridge appeared stocked with food and drinks. Over the past few days Stefano must have been busy getting all this ready.
She reached for a cola and walked back to the main room to examine some of the books. The Thirty-Nine Steps by John Buchan caught her attention. She wondered if Stefano had read it recently, or even read it at all. She took it to the bedroom with her and shut the door.
How bizarre to be alone with a strange man who’d only been her husband for about nine hours.
Needing to unwind, she opened her cases and unpacked the rest of her clothes. In one of the pockets she’d packed her wrapped gift for Stefano. She pulled it out and put it on the dresser to give him in the morning.