Two years spent carefully courting the Vincini Group of
hotels, nine months of concentrated negotiations…
And, in all those months, she‟d not once met Signore Vincini,
the power behind the Vincini Group and the man who wouldultimately make the decision.
She‟d been warned that he was a man who could not beforced…or cajoled. Rumour had it that he worked like an
automaton and made his judgements without reference to
anything other than the „bottom line‟. In recent years he‟d
stopped visiting his proposed investments or, indeed, theexisting hotels he owned across the Mediterranean, yet hesomehow managed to keep a finger on the pulse.Back on Niroli that had sounded exaggerated. Surely adevelopment the size of the one they proposed would warranta m
ore personal involvement…but, what if it was true?
Perhaps her „charm offensive‟ was, at best, pointless and atworst…
She didn‟t want to think about failure. Isabella stared unseeing
across the width of the conference room. There was so muchresting on her ability to bring this deal together...not least herown future on Niroli. Her hand moved to twist her watch
round once more. She‟d give him another five minutes and
„Your Royal Highness?‟
Isabella turned at the sound of a hesitant voice. The quietly
handsome man who‟d ushered her into the room twenty
minutes earlier let go of the door handle and unconsciouslyflexed his fingers.