Imperial Villa

As she expected, he drove with flair and expertise. In just an hour since they left the airport, they are now traversing the long road surrounded by towering trees at the side of the road. Soon after, at the end of a quiet road running parallel to the beach. Christian entered the vehicle through the ornate wrought-iron gates, which opened with just a touch of the remote control.

Lara realizes that Rocco is a man of extreme wealth, but she is not ready to face the overwhelming luxury that seems to frighten her. The Mercedes took the uphill long curve of the road, and her eyes caught sight of a massive house.

Standing on a vast terrain, exquisitely landscaped grounds and screened from local traffic by the trees of pines, the place is much more elevated compared to the usual place. Stucco walls, blindingly white, rose in elegant proportions to a tiled roof that was blue like what she always imagined the color of the sky. Large open windows on wide terraces shaded by pergolas draped in flowering vines. There was a large fountain in the middle of the forecourt, and from the seaward side of the land there was a dog barking.

But her chance to marvel at the beauty with her eyes was short-lived as the car gradually stopped outside the elegant and wide door opened by a man in her late fifties or early sixties and exited from there, carrying the wheelchair.

The faithful butler Ruben, she presumed. Rocco often mentions him to her with great fondness. From behind him came a young man, who carried the luggage while Christian and the butler lifted Rocco from the car to the wheelchair. When they finished, his face was pale and the lines around his mouth were deeper compared to its normal appearance.

Even Christian looks worried. "What can you do for him?" he muttered, he blocked Lara at the entrance as Ruben pushed the wheelchair into the spacious marble floor house.

"Give him a painkiller and let him rest," she said. "The long trip has been very difficult for him."

"I don't think he's fit to travel yet."

“Not yet, especially with his age and severe osteoporosis condition, he really should have stayed in the hospital for another week, but he insisted on coming home, and once your father has decided, you can’t do it anymore, it can’t be changed.”

"Tell me something I don't already know." He frowned as Christian took off his jacket. "Do I have to call his doctor?"

“In the morning, yes. He’ll need more medication than what I was able to bring with us. But I can watch him all night.” Struggling to preserve a professional front despite the fact that Christian stood close enough for the warmth of his body to reach out and touch hers, she passed in front of him and took her traveling bag from the luggage that set down at the front door. "If you take me to his room, I'll make sure I'll watch over him."

He stepped away and led her to the back of the villa, to a large, sun-filled apartment on the main floor. It has a sitting room and bedroom, both with French doors that open onto a low-walled patio, it overlooks the gardens and sea.

While still sitting in the wheelchair perched near the window of the sitting room, Rocco leaned over and gazed at the beautiful view in front of him.

"He had this part of the house converted into his private suite a few years ago since it became difficult for him to climb the stairs," Christian said in a low voice.

As she looked around the room, Lara asked, "And where is the hospital bed?"

“I bought it yesterday. I'm sure he'll get mad at me for removing the bed he's used to using, but this one seemed more practical, at least for now.”

“You did the right thing. He will be more comfortable here, even if he won’t be spending much time there except at night.”

"Why not?"

"The more often he moves, the faster he can walk again, although…"

Picking up on the reservation in her voice, Christian pounced on it. “Although what? You said earlier that you hoped he would recover. Have you changed your mind now?”

“No, but…” She hesitated again, bound by patient confidentiality, but she knew that as a child, Christian should know this information, especially if because of her secrecy it would have a detrimental effect on Rocco's condition. “How much do you know about your father’s general health?”

“Only what is chosen he told me, which isn’t very much.”

She had already guessed that this was what he was going to say. ‘There’s no need to contact my son,’ Rocco had decreed, when the hospital had insisted on listing his next of kin. ‘He minds his business, and I mind mine.’

Christian shot her an annoying look. “What is the thing that you can't tell Lara? Is he going to die?”

"Aren't we all, we just don't know when?"

“Don’t play mind games with me. I asked you directly and I also want a direct answer.”

“Okay. His age is against him. Even if he doesn’t admit it, he’s already too weak. He will not be able to endure the hardship to return to the past.”

"I already know that thing, so what else are you holding back?"

Rocco saves her from avoiding answering. “What the devil are the pair of you whispering about?” he asked irritably.

Casting Christian an apologetic glance, she said, “Your son is just explaining that you might not like the new bed he bought for you. He's worried you'll think he's interfering.”

“He was. I broke my hip, not my brain. I will decide what I want and what I don't want.”

"Not as long as I'm in charge."

“Don’t boss me around, girl. I won’t put up with it.”

“Yes, you will,” she said equably. "That's why you hired me."

"It's easy for me to take you off and take you on a plane back to Canada as early as tomorrow."

She knew it wouldn't make the threat come true, she secretly smiled. He is just tired and in pain, tomorrow morning he will be able to think better. “All right, Mr. Imperial,” she replied wisely, and pushed the wheelchair into the bedroom. "But for now, let me do my job first."