Chapter One Hundred Six

*Ivy*

Getting off the plane and heading through the terminal she looks around to find where the baggage section was located at. Before she left, she made sure to make arrangements for pickup to get her to the estate. She also made sure to inform the staff, that was keeping the place intact, that she’ll be arriving. Whatever she couldn't bring she left back at home since it would only alert every one of her plans.

She was going to be rich once the estate was sold anyways, so she'll just buy everything that is needed, brand new. When she spoke to a Mr. Marino, he had been quite curt with her and very demanding. She explained to him that he was now speaking to the new owner of the estate and that he better watch his tone before she sent him packing.

"Ma’am, I have put in my service with the Bellucci family for over three generations and I know for a fact they would never sell this estate, that has been in their family for one hundred and fifty years, to some unknown stranger. So, forgive me that I don't believe this hock of bologna bullpoop!" He stated in his thick Italian accent.

"Did you not hear my name?! I am Ivy Russo, daughter to Alejandro Russo, who is the widower of Isabella Russo!”

"That name doesn't compute, I'm afraid. I know of only one Isabella and her last name is definitely not Russo. Have a good day, Ma’am!" And he disconnected the line.

She was so furious that the first thing she was going to do when she shoved the deeds in that old man's face was to kick him to the curb, along with any other staff that felt as strongly as he did when it came to the new ownership.

Once she found her luggage, she went straight out the doors and once again looked around. Then, standing not five feet from her, stood a man in chauffeur clothes holding a sign with her last name written on it. She headed straight to him and demanded in a snippy tone, "I'm Russo, hurry it up with the luggage, I don't have time to spare. I have ungrateful people to fire and an estate to sell.”

She promptly leaves her things right in front of him and stands in front of the back seat car door. The man quickly mumbles, "Yes, miss." and opens her door.

Once she settled in, she takes out her new cell phone, getting rid of her old one as soon as she walked out of the Russo plantation, and bought herself a new one before heading to the airport. She didn’t even bother to save her mother's phone number. And she definitely didn’t want her crawling on her hands and knees begging to live off her once she found out she was filthy rich, and her husband is now dirt poor.

It wasn't until the car started moving that she finally looked out the window. The place was so different than New York. It was more beautiful, lively, and breathtaking with its scenery. Too bad she wasn't planning on staying. It will be the first place they look to find her, and she didn't want to be found. She wasn't quite sure yet where she wanted to live but she'll figure that out once the money from the estate was in her bank account that no one knew about.

After an hour of driving, surrounded by fields of grape vines and historical homes, the driver finally made a left onto a well packed dirt road. For another twenty minutes they drove straight down with nothing but planted fields on both sides. And then in the distance a large well structed home came into view. It wasn’t like anything she had ever seen before, and it took her breath away.

It was at least three stories high. Soon the dirt road became wider and more white. Trees began spreading out with well maintained grass and flowers. Then an old style brick wall the height of three to four feet came into view with a single conical home that was also well maintained yet very, very old.

After another ten minutes the driver started to slow down and make another left turn into a long arched driveway where both sides was cluttered with more trees and blossoming flowers that were so colorful that she could stare at them all day if she allowed herself too. But soon the home caught her undivided attention. With a gaping mouth she stared up at the beautiful structure with its old vintage look.

It looked right out of a fairytale story. It was well maintained with vines growing on the sides like a mystical structure. There was a high balcony that was draped in thicker vines producing beautiful bright orange flowers. The white stone was pristine making the place glow in the setting sun.

As she slowly took in everything around it her eyes fell on the wide rounded steps to the front door and standing there were the staff. In front of them all was an old man with his back straight like a rod and his jaw stiff with displeasure. He must be Mr. Marino, judging by his attire but while she was ready to face him and kick him out of the home it was the man standing next to him that gave her pause.

This man was no staff member.

He was taller, more pose, dressed expensively and held an aura of authority about him. He looked to be in his early fifties at best, but it was hard to judge with a head full of pure white hair and a well-trimmed beard and mustache. He was also fit for a man his age.

Once the car stopped she waited for the driver to open her door before stepping out to face them all. It they thought to intimidate her they were all dead wrong. She faced many things in her short young life to be scared off so easily. And they were all about to learn that very quickly. She stood there with her back straight and her chin up in defiance showing them she wasn’t backing down.

The older gentlemen came walking forward putting his hand out to her in politeness. “You must be Miss. Russo.” His thick accent was refined and gentle.

She held out her hand and he gently took it, giving it a small kiss on the back. “I am Luca Bellucci. Isabella was my only daughter.”

She stiffened at hearing that but quickly composed herself. “I’m truly sorry for your loss sir.”

He slowly nods, a slightly remorseful glint in his eyes before it was wiped away. “She made her choice a long time ago. I just wished she had came home in her final days. But that isn’t here or there. My butler informed me that you mentioned owning the deeds of this place?”

“Yes. And he was very rude talking to me about it. I now have proof I own this estate. By rights it belongs to me.”

“Bugiardo! Lei e una bugiarda!” The old man on the steps suddenly speaks harshly in Italian, looking more pissed off than he did on the phone.

“Marino! That’s quite enough.” Luca chastised sternly, looking at the man with disappointment. Instantly the old man slightly bows looking appalled at himself.

“Forgive me, Don Bellucci.”

Luca looks back to Ivy and takes out his arm for her to grab. “Perhaps we can discuss this over some refreshments?”

She couldn’t help feeling a bit jittery with his manners and all she wanted to do was look over the place and call a real estate agent to evaluate it’s worth. But the butler had called him “Don” and even she knew that was a very important title. Not to mention him being Gabriela’s grandfather.

Taking his arm she nods her head and together they headed inside.