Liz had no clue where to start. All she had was a name, a pretty popular name that brought much mystery around it, but a name all the same. People might have heard about Alessandro Ricci, but no one knew where he lived nor how he looked. He was an enigma, the only information she had being that he liked going to coffee shops in Sorrento. And even that wasn’t good enough because she couldn’t have eyes and ears on every single café in the city.
She didn’t let that deter how, however. Instead, she scoured the Internet once again to see if she could find any information, and when she came up short, she got dressed and went out to the only place she could think of.
The auction house wasn’t far from her hotel, thankfully. It was attached to a gallery, with wide open windows that gave a beautiful view of the pieces inside without exposing them to the Italian sun that shone through its planes. Liz made a mental note to take a look inside when she was done with her business, but for now, she made her way to the other side of the low, gorgeous building.
The auction house’s interior looked like an old lady’s cozy home, with overstuffed couches, hand quilted blankets thrown over the back of them, and so many potted plants around the tiny space that Liz was forced to duck around a few large leaves to make it to the desk on the other side of the door.
There was a portly woman behind it, reading peacefully. She glanced up at Liz and looked back at her book, her glasses perched on the tip off her nose.
Liz waited a bit to see if she would acknowledge her, before saying, “Hello.”
“Good day, ma’am,” she greeted. As if the world was on her shoulders, she sighed softly and put down the book before meeting Liz’s eyes.
Liz wasn’t in the mood to deal with this right now. She slipped ice into her eyes as she met the woman’s and the lady stood up a bit straighter. “Your boss. Frederick. Where is he?”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No. Tell him it’s Elizabeth Harley.”
Liz didn’t know if it was possible, but the lady’s back straightened even further.
“You need to have an appointment.”
“I don’t have time for this.” Liz skirted around the table, slipping out of the woman’s reach as she sputtered in disbelief. “He’s around here, right? You need to focus when you’re on the job, Miss…” Liz paused, and the woman ran right into her. She squinted at her name tag then turned and continued on her way. “Miss Roberts. Frederick isn’t in the habit of hiring locals, is he? Did he fly you down here?”
“Miss, you can’t be back here.”
“It’s Elizabeth,” Liz said calmly, ignoring the way the woman tried to prevent her from moving. “Elizabeth Harley.”
The woman was trying desperately to keep Liz from continuing on, but Liz kept her strides long and true. Shrugging her off, she opened the door to what she assumed was Frederick’s office and entered to see him standing by the window with his legs standing way too wide apart to be appropriate. He whirled in surprise at their entrance, just in time to see Miss Roberts stumbling in.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” she sputtered. “She just barged in.”
Frederick wasn’t even listening. “Liz, darling! How nice of you stop by! Why didn’t you tell me you were in the country?”
Liz smiled. “I just arrived yesterday. You should be grateful that I’m here so soon.”
“Oh, please,” he said with a flash of his hands, throwing his colorful scarf around his neck. “You should have been here as soon as your feet hit Italian soil. Or at least, call my phone or something, darling. You wound me. Julie? You can go now. Leave Lizzie and I to speak.”
Liz didn’t spare Julie another glance as she silently shuffled out the room. “You got a new receptionist, I see.”
“She’s my niece.” Frederick waved his hand again as he gestured for Liz to sit in the couch. She sank into its comfort, always at ease in his office. Frederick had an eye for good things and nothing made Liz feel more welcomed than a space that was wrapped with refinement. Frederick sauntered over to the other side of his office, towards the platter of tea and cups he had sitting on the top of his well-stocked bar. “She’s always wanted to be a part of this thing I have going over here so I decided to give her a shot, you know? I’m yet to decide if I want to keep her.”
Liz let out a real chuckle. His bluntness was refreshing. “Are you going to fire your niece?” she asked, amused.
Frederick shrugged, as if that didn’t matter. He poured tea into two cups, then reached under the bar for his decanter of whiskey. “I’m still testing her out to see if she’s a right fit.”
“No one is ever going to be right fit for you.” She smiled warmly as she accepted the tea from him. He sank into the couch on her other side.
“You would,” he said. “You would make a fantastic receptionist. I know I wouldn’t have to worry about a single thing with you running the business while I’m not around.”
“Which is why I’m not cut out to be a receptionist. But thanks for the offer. It’s always good to know I have somewhere to go when Harold kicks me out on my ass.”
Fredrick chortled, threatening to spill his tea all over his lap. When he finally calmed down, he pinned Liz with one of his stares that signified he was ready to get serious. “So, what brought you all the way here? We don’t have any major auctions coming up soon.”
“I’m on a more direct search.” She set her spiked tea on the table before her. “I’m looking for a man. Alessandro Ricci.”
Frederick let out a low whistle. “He’s been quite the star lately. You aren’t the only person looking for him.”
“Is that so?”
“Don’t know the names,” he said. “But Julie has been telling me that everyone is calling about him lately. Not sure why.” He cocked his head to the side in curiosity. “But seeing that you came all the way here instead of calling, there must be something serious afoot.”
“You could say something like that.” That was all she was going to give. Frederick might be a friend, but he was a rival in business on the occasions when they weren’t allies. He would be just as interested in finding Alessandro on his own if he knew there was a new painting out. “So, does that mean that you don’t know where he is?”
“I didn’t say that.” Frederick sipped his tea delicately. “I didn’t say I knew anything, either.”
“You do love your riddles.”
“Of course,” Frederick chuckled. “Well, answer my question and I’ll be more than willing to answer yours.”
“Shoot.”
“Why is everyone so interested in him lately?”
Liz didn’t pause too long, sensing the question before it even exited his mouth. Mind working fast, she said, “It’s actually a personal matter. I hope you understand my reluctance in revealing too much of it.”
“Oh, of course, of course!” He waved her off as if it was ridiculous that she had to ask such a thing. “I wouldn’t want to pry. I have a few secrets of my own I wouldn’t want to tell anyone. We all do, don’t we? But, alright, I think I can help you somewhat.”
“Somewhat?”
“I don’t know much about him. Nothing but his face.”
Trying not to get too annoyed too quickly, Liz asked, “So what exactly could you help me with, Fred?”
“Because of his obsession with remaining private, we always met at one location. It’s the only thing I really know about him. He loves the theater.”
Liz perked up. “Is that so?”
“He is a patron of a local theatre and donates huge amounts of money to supporting the arts. He is often seen attending a show.”
“Do you have any idea what shows he might attend?”
“I have something even better.” With a twinkle in his eye, Frederick got to his feet and hurried over to his desk. He withdrew two slips of paper from his desk drawer and hurried back over to Liz, sitting closer this time. He held up the papers, which she saw were tickets. To her surprise, they were tickets to the same show the stranger on the plane had recommended.
Her heart jumped a little in excitement.
“Every time we met, it was at an orchestra. He loved them and, after going a few times, I grew to love them as well. It’s a good thing I bought these. I was planning to ask Heather to go with me but I could always take you.”
“Aw, Fred,” she said as she took one of the tickets, trying to contain her excitement. Michael Davidson. I might get to see him live after all! She hadn’t realized how much she wanted to attend the show until the ticket was actually in her hand. Her whole body was humming with pleasure. “It always feels nice being the reluctant second choice.”
“I wouldn’t say reluctant. Heather hates orchestras.”
“Then why bother asking her to go?”
“Because if she loves me, she should bear it.” Frederick shrugged. “It starts at six. You think that’s enough time to find something to wear?”
She nodded, unable to believe her luck that this ticket had somehow landed in her hand. And she didn’t need to feel guilty about attending the concert, because it was work-related! Life seemed to really be going her way, for once.
“I’ll see you at six,” she told him with a bright smile.
Teatro San Carlo’s orchestra hall was the grandest she’d ever seen. The ceiling rose high above her, with hundreds of plush red seats covering the floors and walls of the mezzanines. She stood in her box, hands on the balcony, looking down at the stage that seemed to be as large as her own apartment. People continued milling in, filling the fresh air with the light scents of expensive perfumes wafting from the bosoms of gorgeous women as they took their seats. The men were dressed just as dapper, most of them in black and white but none of them standing out as much as Frederick was in his bright red tuxedo. When he had arrived at her hotel to pick her up, she had thrown her hands up in defeat and gone straight back in to change.
Now, they stood arm in arm, both in red. Liz’s dress wrapped her slim curves, spilling onto the floor and leaving her shoulders bare. There was a slight glittery sheen over the fabric that made her shine brilliantly under the right lighting, and with her hair up and beautiful earrings dangling from her ears to complement her makeup, she was a stunner. Frederick had said as much, but she knew it before she even left her room.
“It seemed we came right in time,” he said as they took their seat in the box section.
“Remind me to rethink that receptionist job if it pays half as well as your job clearly does,” Liz said.
Frederick laughed. “I know a position that will pay off even better if you’re up for it.”
Liz looked over at him, slightly amused. “Watch it, or I might just tell Heather on you.”
“Ooh, you’re no fun.”
She smiled a bit wider, but she didn’t get to say anything when the lights dimmed. The curtain on the stage pulled aside slowly, revealing even more of the massive stage and the orchestra in question. They all sat staring at the audience as a hush ran over it, but Liz wasn’t looking at them. She was too busy scanning the people around her, looking for anyone that fit the description of Alessandro that Frederick had detailed to her.
He didn’t have the most unique features, from his description. He was tall, with long black hair he always kept in a ponytail when they met for these orchestras. Sharp features, but Liz couldn’t see well in the dim light and the fact that their backs were to her.
“What makes you think he might here?” she whispered to Frederick.
“This composer is famous throughout the world. And this is the first performance of his European tour. There’s no way Alessandro would miss it, not as big a fan as he was.”
Liz nodded, hoping he was right.
Suddenly, everyone was clapping. Liz glanced at the stage to see a man—presumably the composer—walk on stage. She was just about to look away when something else caught her eye.
The way he walked. He strolled, his head tilted back. There was something very familiar about it.
And his hair, looking very blond in the bright overhead light.
Liz couldn’t believe her eyes. It was him. The stranger. He wasn’t whistling this time but there was no going around it. It was the same guy.
That’s where she knew him from. He was the composer. He was Michael Davidson. She had been so focused on the music that she had completely ignored who the composer was, just assuming another grisly old man. But now she remembered seeing or hearing that Michael Davidson had been prodigy that outshone every other living composer since he was but a teen. And he had watched her listening to his song on the plane! He had pretended to listen with her, like he hadn’t actually created that song.
Her cheeks flushed. The same annoying guy who had saved her from Hunter, and had pestered her on the plane. He was on the stage, about to begin the first performance of his tour.
It really was a small world.
She couldn’t take his eyes off him as he took his position. He faced the audience, standing there for a second as those eyes she remembered so vividly roved the audience. They moved slowly, as if he was trying to take note of every face he could, and for a breathtaking second, she could have sworn he saw her. His eyes lingered on her box for a second, as if he knew she was standing there. But then a second later, he bowed and turned his back.
“That’s Michael Davidson,” Frederick whispered to her. “He’s amazing. And so young and …”
“Handsome,” she finished for him, breathlessly. Liz couldn’t take her eyes off the man. He looked entirely different on stage than he had in the museum, or on the plane. He was in command of the entire room.
“So, you do have human senses underneath that cold exterior. Who would have thought?”
Liz was barely able to laugh. Michael raised his hands, paused, and then the music began.
The way he moved was so casual, so calm, even as the music rose and fell, building tension in the room then dashing it as easily as if nothing had happened. It was very different from the recorded version that had already given Liz chills. The hairs on her arms rose as she listened, and the sound pulled on the strings of a heart she didn’t even know existed, throbbing violently within her chest. Next to her, Frederick began to weep. The music told a sad tale, without words to build it up, but filled with the passion in the notes. The way he moved was hypnotizing as he brought the sound to life. Liz couldn’t take her eyes of him for a second. Although she may have been the only one not brought to tears by the music when he brought it to a close, she was gripping her seat tightly, with waves of… something she couldn’t name, washing over her.
When it was finally over, Michael dropped his hands. He didn’t turn around immediately. He kept his back to the audience, as if he needed to process the magnificence he had just wrought. Then he turned around and his eyes went straight to her box.
Everyone else was on their feet, cheering, but her. She remained seated, meeting his eyes. He couldn’t be seeing her, could he? Not with this distance. Not with the light in his eyes and the darkness she sat in. Could he?
Before she could ascertain if she was right, he bowed again. The cheering skyrocketed, almost deafening. Frederick was amongst the few that were hollering inappropriately.
“Did you see that?” he asked Liz excitedly. “That was amazing!”
She couldn’t disagree. Quickly, she rose to her feet. “I’m going to… go see something. I’ll be back soon.”
“Take your time,” Frederick said. “After that, I’m going to need a little breather myself. Phew!”
While he fanned himself dramatically, Liz hurried out of the box. She made her way down to the lower level, then straight towards the stage. She braced herself, prepared to either shoulder her way past the security blocking her path backstage, or talk her way around them, but they merely stepped to the side.
That made her angry, for some reason.
It didn’t take her long to find his room. She didn’t knock, she just went inside.
He was sitting in the couch, a box of chocolate in his lap. His eyes lit up when she strolled in. “How nice is it to see you, Liz. Chocolate?” he offered, holding the box out to her.
She crossed her arms. “You’re Michael Davidson.”
“Yep,” he responded as he popped a chocolate into his mouth.
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were when we met?”
He shrugged, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I didn’t think it mattered. Nor was it really fair seeing that you didn’t want to tell me your name. So why should I tell you mine?”
She stared at him a while longer, then sat in the chair closest to her, crossing her legs. Crossing them tightly. “You listened to that song with me on the plane, and you never thought it was appropriate to tell me…”
“You didn’t ask.”
She sighed. “I didn’t have to ask. That’s basic information that a normal person would share.”
“Maybe I’m not normal,” Michael said, still munching on his chocolate. “Did you like the show?”
“Yes,” she responded, ashamed of how much she had liked it.
“Great. I was hoping I would have an opportunity to show you what that song should really sound like. Your tiny, cheap headphones were not really capable of conveying a whole orchestra properly.”
“My headphones are not cheap,” Liz said with annoyance, but there was no question that it had been an entirely different experience live. It had been transformative.
“Did you come backstage to tell me you changed your mind about that date?” he asked hopefully.
“No,” she said haltingly. “I just thought I’d stop by and say hi. But you’re probably busy, so I’ll get out of your hair.”
She got to her feet, expecting him to say something to keep her from going. She didn’t really plan on staying, and was already getting ready to shoot that down as soon as it came up. She heard him begin to speak, but something caught her eye on his table and she paused.
It was a letter with the initials A.R.. Liz picked it up, then turned to him. “Who is this from?”
He crooked a brow a her. “A little invasive, don’t you think?”
“A.R..” A stretch but… “Is this from Alessandro Ricci?”
“Oh, you know him?”
“I suppose that means that you do.” She moved a bit closer. She knew he didn’t miss that.
A devilish glint appeared in his eyes and Liz suddenly felt uneasy. A superior smirk, if she had ever seen one.
“What does that matter to you, Liz?”
She moved to sit right next to him. The smile he had playing around his lips grew a bit wider.
“I want to find him,” she said. “Do you know where he is, by any chance? Is he here?”
“He might be,” Michael said with a shrug. “The answer depends, really.”
“On what?”
“On whether you’re willing to answer my own questions.”
She expected that much, but even then, she felt a spark of annoyance. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“Your name?”
“Elizabeth Harley.”
“And what do you do, Elizabeth?”
“I’m a curator for a gallery in the States.”
He nodded, soaking in the information. She could almost see him connecting the dots. “Who’s Hunter? He looked like an ex you dumped just recently.”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”
“I don’t see how my private mail is any of your concern.”
She gritted her teeth. It was her only lead. There was no way she would be able to find him a crowd that thick. “We weren’t dating. We had an arrangement… but then I ended it. He was hurt about that.”
“I’m not surprised.” Michael grinned, as if he had just played the biggest prank on her, successfully. “To answer your question, yes. That’s from Alessandro Ricci. He’s a friend of mine.”
Liz leaned forward. “Do you know where he is? Or where he lives?”
“No to the first one. Yes, to the second.”
She waited a beat, staring into his eyes which grew deeper with mischief. “What else do you want for the information?” she asked finally.
“Just one thing. A date.”
“You’re very persistent.”
“It’s a rewarding trait. I’m sure you know quite a bit about it.” He leaned forward and flashed her smile that she was sure made women weak in the knees. “So, what do you say, Liz Harley?”
“I say,” she responded without moving, meeting his eyes calmly, “pick me up at the Villa Eliana at eight tomorrow.” She got to her feet, throwing the letter back on the table. “Come ready to talk business or don’t come at all.”