Streets of Valencia (#2 in The Billionaire Series)

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER ONE

The heat was the first warning she was no longer in Caxton College, where the cooling systems were blasted on full throttle every summer, and where silence was serenity. The throngs of people all around her further confirmed that dawning feeling as she was passed by the occasional huge family and rushed speaking business man.

The flight had been typical: first class with a comfortable window seat and the ever smiling hostess. The best for her, she knew. Finally finishing had always been the mood killer for her, wondering what lay beyond the closing gates. Would she return home, rekindle old connections and live out the rest of her life playing hostess to people? Did she want to go home? Well, that was a question she refused to answer, even as she stared at the changing scenery around her.

Her friends had always said she thought too much, and so Federica d'Osana had striven to think less and act more. Of course constant action had gotten her into a lot of trouble, and after many years away from home, her family and childhood friends, wherever they were, she was at the airport, awaiting for the last leg of a trip.

She was elevated to be returning home, and constantly wondered at the change that time might have wrought. At the same time, she worried about this change. Would she still find the veranda fountain the grandest she'd ever seen? Would the grandeur stairs still be as grandeur as she remembered it to be? How about her room: had it been left how she remembered it?

Then again, she'd possible change it as soon as she saw it. Long gone was her love of pink. No, Federica enjoyed a flush of colour now. She enjoyed expressing herself in bright, lovely colours. An artist couldn't be picky about colours, after all. Each had its meaning and was used wisely upon a canvas. Or, on the days she felt up to it, she just slathered it on up there.

Her hand tightened on her portfolio. She had something in it for her papa, but how could she give it to him when she was still stuck in the airport? Where was her ride? For a moment she entertained the thought that it could be her father coming for her, that after all these years of only hearing his voice on short calls he would be the first familiar face she saw upon return.

If he was a busy man all these years, what was to say he wouldn't be a busy man today? No, he wasn't coming. As much as it saddened her, she understood her father was busy, and there was no point in denying it. Still, where was her ride?

Just as Federica thought this, she spotted a suited man walking towards her with a sign that had her name on it, and on the very first letter, a ruggedly drawn crown. She smiled. He hadn't forgotten her. Of course he wouldn't, her papa loved her, always.

She stood and waved to the man, whose eyes narrowed as he regarded her, before widening in confirmation. Federica felt giddy as she and her driver walked out of the airport. Finally, she could get to the hacienda. She wanted to be home already, to greet her sisters and father: even her mother.

She kept her portfolio with her at the back of the town car, staring eagerly at everything that caught her sight. Valencia, being a coastal city, was naturally heated but the people had ensured the streets and everywhere she looked was full of vibrant, beautiful colour. It was wonderful.

They passed through the city, and she was caught by the activities of vendors and shops, of people going about their businesses of the day, of even animals, and she wanted to explore it on her own, to see what they saw and feel what they felt. Oh, she couldn't wait to get into town later. And she would: this she solemnly promised.

Suddenly, they slowed. She would have taken it to be a turn, but where they passed was a clear road except for the vendors and merchants, who were not present. Federica frowned. Just earlier there had been such excitement, but as they got deeper, things had dwindled.