At least Jett was honest and didn’t pretend to have feelings that weren’t there. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I stop looking behind a guy’s intentions and just enjoy his attention? Was it because I still couldn’t trust a guy after all that happened in the past?
Opening the Lucazzone file, I gulped down a glass of water to get rid of the dry sensation in my mouth, and focused on the task at hand. Alessandro Lucazzone, the current owner, was one of the most well-known and respected men in the area. He inherited the Lucazzone estate, including hundreds of miles of vineyards, forests, and fields, from his father who in turn inherited it from his father, and so forth. The estate had been handed down from generation to generation for centuries, withstanding revolutions and recessions. The Lucazzone family hadn’t always been rich. A few times they lost most of their money in bad investments and gambling, but they always bounced back from their financial hardships, usually by marrying a rich spouse. Alessandro Lucazzone had managed to keep the estate in order and the vineyards thriving through World War II with the help of his wife’s money. He and Maria had no children, and when she died of cancer he never remarried. At ninety-seven the old man was dying, leaving no apparent heirs behind. According to Jett’s research, the estate would fall into the hands of local charities, and I couldn’t help but feel they deserved the money. They could certainly put the grounds to better use than Mayfield Properties. Besides, it felt wrong to tamper with the possibly last wish of an old man who seemed to believe in a good cause.
Taking a sip of my lukewarm coffee, I almost choked on it as I flicked the next page, finally realizing why my boss would be so interested in a remote estate in Italy where the price of acquisition and upkeep made no sense in terms of profit. My fingers slowly traced the jagged contours on the map. The west side was situated around a private lake about the size of Lake Geneva, with mountain views surrounded by untouched nature. Combine that with the sunny Mediterranean weather, a clean beach, and lots of privacy—and you had prime real estate ready to cater to the rich and famous.
I pulled out the architectural plan and shook my head in disbelief. Mayfield Properties was planning to build ten homes: each a five-room, three-bath, mansion-like holiday home, with ground to ceiling glass windows overlooking the shoreline and mountains in the distance. Each property would boast a large tiled hallway, a lounge, dining room, study, several bedrooms with walk-in closets, and bright open-plan kitchen and living areas. They would have a private garage, a swimming pool, a security system worthy of the White House, and a level of privacy ensured by high gates to protect the owners from prying eyes. Basically, they were about to rebuild the Hollywood Hills amidst the Italian countryside. Another oasis for the rich and famous. Given that the Italian government wasn’t known for their cooperation, it was an ambitious project. However, a multi-million dollar corporation like Mayfield Properties always finds a way. No doubt about that.
I tossed the sheet aside, disgusted with the company’s plans to destroy parts of the Italian countryside. Disgusted I had to help them make it happen. This was the reason why I had been more or less happy working for James. He wasn’t hell-bent on finding and annihilating the last spots of untouched nature on Earth to build a few houses for people who already owned more than they needed. I wasn’t your usual environmentalist, but I prided myself on recycling my garbage and not supporting the chopping down of trees and the asphalting of mountain paths by greedy corporations. And Mayfield Properties was one of them.
It was a matter of integrity vs. going against my boss’s wishes and possibly losing my job in the process. If I consented and helped Mayfield acquire the Lucazonne estate, I was no better than all those money-hungry, designer suit-wearing corporations I always despised because of their work ethics. If I refused to do my job, Mayfield had no reason to keep me employed, meaning I might face unemployment within the week. What could I possibly say to prospective interviewers as to why I lost the job within a few days of commencing it?
The decision was out of my hands, but even though I knew I didn’t really have much choice, I wasn’t less disgusted with myself. Mayfield Properties was just a stepping stone, I reminded myself, and soon I could boast enough experience to get a job with Delaware & Ray. Taking a deep breath, I stood and smoothed over my skirt, vowing to stay true to my convictions as much as possible given the circumstances, while still doing my job.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN