A Bride Worth Billions (38 page)

A weeknight was an unusual time for Stavro Gavalas to throw an expensive party on the 45
th
floor of 500 Park Avenue, a luxurious marble expanse reminiscent of the roaring 1920s. Nevertheless, all of the powers that be on the guest list were present, albeit fashionably late. After all, the gala was a suit and tie affair, an opportunity for the insanely rich and powerful to rub shoulders with each other. Gina was standing at a corner in her green Versace gown, fingering the diamond Bvlgari necklace wrapped around her smooth and long neck. For tonight she had her beautiful dark hair swept up into a loose chignon and her eyes made up with smoky eyeshadow to make her look more ladylike and mature. They had just finished having dinner and her father had already introduced her to the guest of honor, who happened to be one of the senators of the state. She had played her part so she was now free to do whatever she wanted until she gets sleepy.

She wished she had brought a book with her because she could feel boredom creeping into her mind. To fight it off, she had sneakily gotten herself a glass of martini, a naughty little thing she sometimes does during her father's parties whenever she felt like pretending to be in
The Great Gatsby.
Now, she was starting  to feel a bit woozy after only a few sips. In an attempt to shake it off, she began to observe and take mental notes of some of the guests at the party. She noticed a number of rich old heiresses and beautiful young widows in expensive flowing gowns designed by Valentino and Dior who were lingering around the bar and sipping far too many martinis. She saw her father, tall and stocky in a black suit, and his flavor of the month, Sephina or Sephona or whatever her name is, clinging to his arm and looking bored out of her wits. The woman looked  anorexically thin in her beige dress, which emphasized her bony body all the more. Gina turned her gaze upon a framed glass door which most likely led to the balcony. She walked up to it, turned the knob, and stepped out onto a large and surprisingly empty balcony. She could barely see the stars in the sky due to all of the lights around the city. The sconces on the outer walls of 500 Park Avenue cast a soft light on the balcony. Gina leaned against the marble railing and began to daydream of Victor. Six foot tall, Lacrosse star player Victor.

Maybe, just maybe, he'll be my first kiss,
she thought tipsily. An image of herself locking lips with him made her blush. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head from side to side as if to shake the thought off her mind.  She then hiccupped and began to laugh.

None of the boys had ever tried to approach her lately. When she was a freshman and a new face in Crisham, she remembered some of the boys constantly chatting up to her and some of them even gave her presents. But for some reason nobody has approached her ever since they all found out who her father and uncles were.

But Victor is different,
she thought,
he doesn't seem to mind at all. I've known him for years yet he only noticed me now. Oh my, he might've texted me! Or maybe I should text him!

She reached into her purse and fumbled around for her cellphone.
Drats! How could I forget to bring it with me?
Then again, barely anyone ever texts me...

"Good evening,
signorina,
" she heard a husky voice with a thick Italian accent from behind her.

Feeling slightly irked for having been torn away from her thoughts, she responded with a flat, "Yes?"

But as she turned around she came face to face with the most handsome man she had ever seen in her entire life. It was as if the essence of tall, dark, and handsome came to life and walked up to her to introduce himself. He had thick, jet black hair styled into a modern pompadour. His eyes were deep-set eyes and a twinkling blue underneath thick yet perfectly trimmed eyebrows. His aquiline nose and full and shapely lips were in perfect symmetry. In spite of his sharp black suit, Gina could tell that he spent enough hours at the gym to keep his body perfectly sculpted.
The knight in shining armor,
was her first thought.

"Oh, hello, um, good evening," she stammered, failing to sound calm, "I don't believe I know you."

"My apologies, Miss Gavalas," he did a slight bow from the neck, "please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Alanzo Mantovani. I came to the party with Stefania Renzo, a friend of your father's."

"Oh, I'm not well-acquainted with Baba's friends," she said carelessly, "but, um, how do you find the party, Mister Mantovani?"

"Please do call me Anzo,
signorina
. As for the party, well, it is- how can I say this- exceptional.
Bellissima
. I am impressed with the food, the drink, and of course, the company."

"Well, I'm glad you're, um, enjoying it," she smiled, "but don't you wanna go back inside?"

"Maybe later," he smiled back, revealing dimples on both cheeks, "because I want to see more of the city at night. And maybe more of you." A pause. Then, "I hope you do not mind me saying this, but you are so beautiful tonight, Miss Gavalas..."

Gina looked away to keep him from seeing her blush. "Um, thank you. But call me Gina. I mean, I'm only sixteen."

"Ah, the perfect age for a woman to not mind telling you how old she is." He winked at her. She blushed a deep scarlet and looked away.

"What about you? Would you mind telling me your age?" She decided not to stop herself from asking. Besides, she's has the excuse of being tipsy.

"My age? Oh, I am too old for you, 
bellissima,
" he laughed. She stared at him, her face expressionless and expectant.

"I am only kidding," he laughed, "I am thirty-four."

Somehow this information stirred up the butterflies in her stomach. It was a dangerous feeling, but it was the kind of danger that she did not mind getting herself into. Age gap was never a problem in the romance novels she had been devouring before bedtime lately.

"Tell me, Gina," he began, "Is life always so gallant in Manhattan?"

"Not really. Not for me, at least," she replied, "most of my days are routinely. School, home, school... Baba makes sure that I'm always with Ingrid and Nabil." She noticed a questioning look on his face, "They're my guardians," she added. She started to ramble aimlessly about how strict and cold Ingrid was and how Nabil was always so unintentionally funny to her. He listened to everything with undivided attention, his blue eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

"Sometimes I feel like I just want to get away from all of this," she sighed.

"Well then, maybe you should visit my home in Lombardy," he suggested, "I can give you a tour and show you the famous painting of da Vinci in the Convent of Sta. Maria delle Grazie, and I can let you have a taste my grandmother's special
Risotto alla Milanese.
" He brought his fingers to his lips and kissed them. He began to tell her briefly about the history of his country, but in a way that was captivating and interesting.

"Lombardy sounds lovely," she sighed, "I hope Baba will allow it next summer."

"Summer can be any time you want it to be, Gina," he said, "a jet can take you away to all the summers of the world. I believe it is what you Americans call
chasing summer,
am I right?"

"I suppose so," Gina cocked her head to the side, "I might consider chasing summer myself as soon as I finish prep school and that Baba allows it. Have you ever done that before, Mister Mantovani, I mean, Anzo? Chased summer?"

"Several times," he smiled, "I would gladly take you to any place you like." As he said this, Gina felt his hand lightly touch the small of her back on the balcony railing. For a few minutes, they stayed that way in silence. She felt her body grow warmer until it became throbbing hot, so she did not stop him when him pressed her closer to him.

"I would like to kiss you, mio stella," he whispered.

"Yes," she sighed. Her heart began to thump wildly in her chest. He smiled and wrapped his arms around her. His eyes twinkled before the lids closed as he leaned in for the kiss, and when his lips found hers, she melted into his arms.

It was early Saturday morning. The weather was cold and windy and most of the young elite in Upper East Side Manhattan were still in bed, sleeping in and tangled up with their lovers after a crazy night of partying. Others were at the gym, doing their best to burn off the extra calories they packed in from the meals they had during the week, each of which cost their rich parents approximately 250 dollars, excluding New York tax and 20 percent service fee, of course.

But Gina was already wide awake since four in the morning. She was sitting in front of her Macbook Air and scrolling down pages and pages of search engine results, her eyes scanning greedily for a certain Alanzo Mantovani. And why not? For she was desperately in love/lust with him. She felt that she had been waiting for him all her life! Could he be her very own Mister Rochester? A sweeter tongued Mister Darcy? The Gilbert Blythe in real life to sweep her off her feet?
Yes, yes, yes!

But she still knew so little about him. After her rather tipsy encounter with him on the balcony, he had asked for her number which, thankfully, she knew by heart despite having left her cell phone on top of her vanity table. And because he did not have a U.S. number yet, he had left her a card with his name and e-mail address on it. Gina somehow found it unusual that there was nothing more to it than that; she thought it was weird for a business card to not have the name of one's business printed on it, but she shrugged it off.

Her fingers busily rapped on the keyboard of her laptop, clicking ferociously on all the links that she thought could lead her to more details on her mysterious Italian Adonis. She had decided to skip school last Friday, and because of that she was able to buy enough time to do some online "research." Yesterday, she had managed to find out that Anzo was the sole heir to his family's 300-year old winery. She got this from an Italian online news site and had to make use of an online translating app. The kind of information she got from the site pushed her to become thirsty for more. His absence on social media disappointed her a bit, but it also caused her to become even more determined to unearth details from other sources. After scanning several websites, she was able to find out that he was a licensed pilot, has a Graduate Degree in Enology, and several other factoids from interviews that a few online Italian tabloids have published, such as his favorite color (burgundy), the song he often plays in his Ferrari ("Ti vorrei sollevare" by Elisa and Giuliano Sangiorgi; the English translation of the lyrics reminded her of their conversation on "chasing summer" and it made her heart skip a beat), and his favorite designer brand ("
Scelgo di solito Gucci
").

She was proud of all the that she was able to gather, and she even started to believe that she was getting pretty good at snooping around.
Maybe it’s because of all the time I’ve spent in the library,
she thought.

But a there were also a couple of discoveries that made her feel like a teeny tiny knife was stabbing her heart. There were several photos of him, each with a different woman and all of them breathtakingly beautiful: an Italian movie star, an international beauty pageant winner from Venezuela, a Russian supermodel, a Vietnamese top executive... There were so many others.
Il giovane mondano e frivolo.
That was what the Italian tabloids called him, especially after his break up with the actress. The Playboy.

But,
she thought,
the last post about him was over a year ago. People change all the time. He couldn’t possibly be the heart breaker these stupid tabloids say he is.

It was eleven o'clock and she was in the middle of zooming in a picture of the Italian actress when, from underneath her pillow, her phone began ring. Her heart racing with anticipation, she picked it up. An unknown number!
Could it be him?

"Hello?" She wanted it to sound sexy but somehow it sounded a lot like the little girl than anything else.

"Hey, Gina." It was a young man's voice that did not sound at all Italian.

"Who's this?" A disappointed look was on her face.

"It's Victor."

"Oh. How can I help you, Victor?" Cold and flat.

"I was just wondering if you're busy tonight," he said, his voice sounding cheery despite her apparent lack of warmth, "I've got two tickets to the Saturday night Benefit Concert in
Carnegie Hall and I was wondering if you would like to  join me."

"I'll have to think about it, Victor. I've got homework to do." She had finished her homework yesterday under the watchful eye of Ingrid.

"Oh," this time it was his voice that sounded disappointed, "okay. But I'll call you later. Hope you change your mind."

"Sure, thanks for the invitation."

"Okay, b-"

Before he had a chance to say goodbye, she hung up.
It's not Victor's fault,
she thought,
but for a second there I really thought it was Anzo.

She was hoping that her phone would ring again, but when it still didn't even after her she had had lunch, she decided to send a message to the email that was on his card. She did not want to do it because she really does not want to sound so
easy
, but she just couldn't stand the silence.
It has been over 24 hours!

She opened her email account and started to compose her message: Hello, Anzo.

What should I say?
Her mind was racing. She continued to type: I hope you're doing well. Just thought I'd send you this message to let you know that I'm glad we met.

It sounds so desperate,
she thought.
Maybe I should add...

Her phone began to ring. It was an unknown number. She hadn't bothered to save Victor's number on her phone, so it probably is him.

"Hello?" She sounded even more disappointed than before.

"Hey, Gina." It was Victor.

"Hello again, Victor."

"I'm calling to check if you changed your mind."

"Yes."

"You're coming with me?"

"Yes, I will. I have nothing better to do tonight."

"Okay, I'll drive by your place at nine. Is that alright?"

"Sure."

"Alright! See you then. B-..."

She hung up.

If Mister Alanzo Mantovani can't be bothered to give me a call, then why should I even care about him,
she thought bitterly.
Because he's gorgeous, because he was your first kiss, and because he is the sexiest man you've ever met.
She was surprised at how her own mind was so quick to reply.

Indeed!
She sighed. She wanted to see him again, to kiss him and feel his strong arms around her again. She wanted him to whisk her away to his home in Lombardy, marry her in a centuries old cathedral and celebrate their honeymoon in a stone castle. She wanted him to be her everything.