Because of Love

Rafael DeLuca looked out the window and watched as the beautiful city of Boston came up to meet him as the plane made its descent. The city’s night lights sparkled like diamonds. As the plane got lower, he could see those very lights dancing in the ocean water. He’d never seen anything more breathtaking. He smiled to himself. Truthfully, he did. It was even more beautiful than Italy, his home. 

He sighed heavily. He would miss his home, his yacht, and his weekend sailing trips, the best parts of his week, but he’d been promised he’d be able to do the same here. Hence why he had chosen these offices to inspect. 

He’d been looking forward to this trip more than anyone could understand. Rafe unbuttoned his shirt to the mid of his chest and pushed the sleeves higher around his elbows, relishing the freedom. He’d barely made it onto the plane with his sanity in check, and now, thousands of miles away, he still felt suffocated. But that would soon change.

Restlessness crawled through him and vibrated under his skin. How much longer until we land? he wondered, looking at his wristwatch, seeing nothing but a ticking hand and numbers. He was stuck in his senses, the ones that told him the plane was slowly shrinking in size, closing in around him. He fought the urge to claw at his neck as a phantom fist closed around his throat and settled for digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands. Just a little while longer, he told himself. A few more minutes and he would be able to breathe freely again.

His private plane was about to land in a different country, on a different continent, away from the headaches of family and the pressures of being a DeLuca. Once the plane touched the ground, he would make his way straight to the harbor and spend his night floating in the Atlantic waters, open and freeing and not closed and claustrophobic, and finally just breathe easy. He couldn’t ask for more. That very thought eased the restlessness, its tenacious grip around his chest disappearing just as the plane’s walls moved back in place, and he inhaled a slow easy breath of cabin air.

He fastened his seat belt and waited for the plane’s wheels to hit the runway. With his home sanctuary invaded, he’d been left with nowhere else to run but here or New York. He opted out of the latter because Gabriella loved it there, and the last thing he wanted was an unexpected visit from her. Not that she wouldn’t follow him here if inclined to do so, but there was nothing she hated more than humidity and water. Another plus to having a water bound sanctuary.

“Signore.”

Rafe turned to his personal assistant sitting on the other side of the Embraer Lineage 1000. Though fitted for long business trips, it was still as luxurious as his standards demanded. Another one of his favorite toys, as described by his younger brother Renaldo. One other thing, besides the yacht and Rafe’s Ferrari collections, he wasn’t allowed to touch. Just thinking about that ragazzo annoyed Rafe. The boy was fine with being mediocre, leaving the burden of the family empire solely on Rafe’s shoulders. The curse of being born first.

“Signore, your local assistant will be meeting us at the airport to send us straight to the hotel.”

Rafe looked at his Bulgari watch on his left wrist and then back at his PA with a raised brow. “At this time of the night?” 

He nodded. “Si, Signore.”

Rafe groaned inwardly. That was the last thing he wanted. The whole point of arriving at two in the morning was to not meet anyone. He was looking forward to some time alone after months of having everyone in his face, especially his family and Gabriella. Even his treasured weekends had been stolen from him. One stress free day alone was all he was asking for. There was no way he was giving it up.

He waved his hand at this PA in refusal and turned to look back out the window. “Send them away, Enzo. I won’t be available to anyone until tomorrow.” Rafe turned back to him with a look that said he wasn’t up to discussing the issue further and with a hard tone added, “Capisci?”

Enzo leaned back into his seat. “Si Signore.”

Rafe bounced slightly in his seat as the plane wheels touched the runway. He undid his seatbelt and waited impatiently as the plane taxied in, his longing for solitude growing with each passing second.

“Is the yacht ready at the harbor?” he asked, his fingers tapping repeatedly on the arm chair.

“Si Signore ma...”

“But what?” Rafe demanded, and maybe too loudly by how far up Enzo jumped from his seat, his eyes widening a fraction too big.

Rafe knew all his employees were afraid of him. They nicknamed him il terremoto, the terror, or earthquake. Apparently, he shook them to their very core with fear whenever he was around, but he didn’t care. He was their boss, not their friend. With his father letting go of the reins more and more, a thousand plus employees, including his own family’s livelihood, all depended on him. If being a terror made sure the companies remained successful, then the rest was inconsequential. 

“It’s aah—it’s not as grande as you are used to.”

Rafe raised an intolerant eyebrow in response.

“But I can find a replacement by the time you wake up,” he added quickly.

Rafe sighed, closed his eyes, and rubbed his right brow with his right thumb. “Quanto è piccolo?”

“Not too small.”

Rafe opened his eyes, sat straight, and glared at him.

“It’s no DeLuca.”

The DeLuca yacht was an Azzam that his family owned. They did more party hosting on it than anything else. They’d never taken it out on a family trip. In fact, Rafe couldn’t remember ever taking a family trip in all his thirty-five years. The short trips they took around the world as vacations never included his father. When he did come, it was because he had business in that country or city. His mother worked hard to make them act like a family. Rafe inwardly applauded her efforts, but he wished she would stop trying anymore. It was heartbreaking to watch, and, quite frankly, he didn’t have the time, nor the energy, to spare for the charade.

“What is it?” Rafe asked with an edge in his voice.

Enzo quickly raised his phone that was forever stuck in his hand and browsed through it. “Absolute Nevetta 58,” he rapped out.

Rafe nodded. He owned a good part of the Absolute series, the 58 too, but the 73 was his favorite. “It will do.”

Enzo sighed to his relief, his entire body deflating as the tension left him. Rafe snorted at that overreaction. Enzo was new to his pool of assistants and the only one without a workload to oversee, hence free to travel with Rafe. He would have preferred taking one of those he’s worked a long time with, but this trip was unexpected, so unfortunately, he was stuck with this easily spooked man. He needed to learn how to master his emotions and monitor his reactions if he had any chance of lasting longer than he already had. This trip would be good for him to start learning.

When the plane came to a complete stop, Rafe stood. “You can go to the hotel with whoever they sent. Just have a car send me to the harbor.”

“Si Signore,” he responded, standing up and heading to the cockpit.

His day of freedom was here. Rafe smiled to himself, with no one to bug him. He couldn’t wait.

Talia McKenna stood on the airport tarmac next to the driver, her arms wrapped tightly around her shivering body. Her mouth opened with a long loud yawn. She couldn’t smother that one, unlike the hundred others that came before she’d been able to hold in. Who would arrive in the dead of the early morning night and expect a greeting party? A DeLuca of course. And not just any DeLuca, the DeLuca.

Talia was still having a hard time believing that she’d been appointed as a glorified tour guide to Rafael DeLuca II. Nobody called him junior and, from what she’d heard, it was akin to calling a shark cute and cuddly. Unlike his father, Rafael DeLuca Senior, who was cold and ruthless and with questionable business ethics, baby shark here was on the up and up and sadly for everyone else, not easy to read nor predict. 

He had come out of nowhere, surpassing his father in a blink of an eye and with a company that had been long declared and widely considered dead for almost a decade. A blow to Senior’s ego, Talia was sure. It would explain why he was loudly and very publicly handing over the reins. Talia was no shrink, but the way he kept throwing lavish parties to announce that he had set everything up for his son to continue his accomplishments said a lot. It didn’t help much that his son doubled profits within a year of taking over every company his father ‘handed over.’ The DeLuca Empire had ten billion-dollar companies with branches in numerous countries, hers being one of them, and tens more investments all over the world just as lucrative. With that kind of reputation, she reluctantly admitted he deserved a welcome party in the middle of the night. She just wished it wasn’t her doing the welcoming.

Talia rubbed her hands together and blew into them before placing them back around her in a tighter hug. They said it was an assistant position, but she knew better. The man travelled with a posse; he didn’t need an assistant. What the suits really wanted her to do was spy on him. Apparently, this visit was sudden and clearly unexpected since she was hired—she snorted, forcefully appointed was more like it—that very evening. 

The fact that she spoke Italian made her the perfect candidate. She could have said no, but a green light for her project and the promotion that came with it were at stake. But, she came to realize, it was also a very good opportunity. If she got the great DeLuca to say yes to her project, she could stop kissing those old fat-asses and get to work. As she stood in the freezing night cold, she was going to let that thought warm her up.

Talia was looking to start a global internship program that would allow disadvantaged young women from anywhere in the world to intern at all the DeLuca International offices, their holdings and companies they invested in, located all the world. It would allow them to expand their horizons, learn new languages, afford them equalized opportunities, and travel to places they could only dream of, all on the company’s dime. The program would serve the giant global company well too. A PR golden goose, as far as Talia was concerned.

Talia looked at her wrist watch then up at the sky. “What’s taking them so long?” Her teeth chattered together as her body shivered to shake off the cold.

“He’s here,” Joe, the company driver, spoke next to her, pointing up.

Talia looked at him before following his white gloved finger’s direction. He didn’t look the least bit cold. The dude was tall and packed with muscle, or fat, she wasn’t sure which one. The long cotton wool coat that made up his chauffeur uniform covered a lot. She understood chivalry must be numb in this cold but at least he could have offered her those gloves. 

She looked at those white cotton, warmed thanks to his body heat gloves with an envious sigh, her hands tucked under her armpits. She could kill for those gloves. She looked him over again. What would be her chances if she were to tackle him and snatch them off him?

“He’ll be landing any minute now,” Joe added, pulling her attention to what mattered.

Talia watched the dot of light grow larger and heard the sound that began as a whisper grow louder as the object of their attention drew nearer and lower. How had Joe spotted that? She could easily have mistaken it for a star. But who cares? She was finally going to get out of this damn cold.

“Finally!” she cheered, jumping up and down to get her blood pumping. She couldn’t meet the DeLuca as a popsicle. 

In less than three minutes, the plane touched down on the runway and made its way to the tarmac they stood at. 

“Did you know that’s his plane?” Joe asked. The awe in his voice told her he was more telling her than asking her.

“You mean the company plane?”

He shook his head and turned to look at her for a second before his eyes moved back to the taxing plane. There was actually a twinkle in his eye as he stared wide eyed at the aircraft.

“Nope. That’s his!” he announced proudly like only a fan would. “That’s an Embraer Lineage 1000, custom fitted and designed for him. Just like his yacht and car collections. They say he is the only one who owns the entire Absolute Nevatta collection. And he doesn’t drive anything but Ferrari, a different one each week. All stored in a hundred thousand square foot warehouse with security that rivals a bank vault.”

Talia snorted; she wouldn’t expect anything less. That one warehouse probably held over a billion dollars in machinery. As ridiculous as it seemed to own that much in cars and yachts, oh, and planes, and probably a helicopter—with all that he owned she wouldn’t put it past him to have a helicopter—she couldn’t help but smile at Joe’s enthusiasm. He was no fan; he was a groupie. They called them sesangs in South Korea—obsessive fans.

“What’s an Absolute Nevatta?”

The look Joe gave her was similar to the one parents get when they ask their children what K-Pop is. 

“Yachts,” he responded shortly. 

The only thing left for him to do was say ‘OMG’ and flip his hair over his shoulder as he turned away from her, his snobby chin up in the air.