What do you mean you don’t know where he is?” Stella’s voice was pinched and strained as she turned in a circle within Leonardo’s office, her eyes scanning the walls and shelves as if the office itself held the answer of where Leonardo had disappeared to. “You’re his brother. You’re supposed to know where he is!”

It had taken two days before Stella had gotten over her anger enough to take any phone calls from the Preservation Society or to reach out to Leonardo. By the time she had, the whole world had turned upside down and Leonardo hadn’t been heard from by anyone.

When Stella learned what had happened—that the Romano del Mare had been reclassified as a historic monument—everything changed for her in that instance, and her alliance shifted. No longer was she willing to do the bidding of a heavy handed organization with an agenda that tended to be more about flexing its own muscle and getting its own way rather than preserving ancient buildings.

Now the Romano del Mare’s doors were to be closed as a resort forever. She had never wanted things to go so far. She’d written the argument to rezone the Romano del Mare as a historic monument two and a half months before she’d ever even set foot in Sicily. She’d been given an assignment, and she’d done it. She hadn’t visited it. She hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. To her, then, it had only been an ancient building whose owners weren’t respecting it, who were attempting to make it into something that it wasn’t. She didn’t feel that way now, though, and she was willing to do something about it.

The Romano del Mare needed people. It had thrived as a resort less than two decades ago. She’d seen the pictures, and it had been beautiful. The brothers had simply taken the renovation too far by adding what they’d thought was needed to entice the tourists of today. But if they kept the design elements simple in order to allow the beauty of the original structure to shine through, the tourists would still come and they would love it here, just as she now did.

“I am sorry,” Gianpierre said over the phone. “When my brother does not want to be found, there is no finding him. He goes when he needs a break, and he comes back when he’s ready.”

Stella bit down on her frustration. She didn’t want to alienate herself from the family of a man whom she cared deeply about. “And you have no idea, none at all, as to where he might have gone?” She needed him. If she was going to set things right, she had to have his help.

“No, I’m sorry.”

Stella ended the call with a heavy heart. Moving behind Leonardo’s desk, she sat down in his chair with a weariness that had sunk its way into her bones. She had not felt this worn out and used up since the days of spending months at a time in the hospital.

Swiveling his chair around so that it faced the window, Stella stared out onto the grounds surrounding the monastery. She couldn’t give up, she knew that, but she didn’t know what to do, and a fear that she had lost the battle to save the Romano del Mare settled into the pit of her stomach.

“Leonardo, where are you?” she murmured to herself. His brothers and their girlfriends didn’t know where he was. His assistant didn’t know where he was, and she’d even intercepted a call from his chief designer. Nobody knew where he was.

Her eyes drifted away from the serene beauty of the Sicilian landscape to float across the knickknacks in his office. She’d already searched through every drawer of his desk and, under great duress, his assistant had even given her access to his computer and email. The man had disappeared, and it was all her fault. If she’d found a better approach, if she’d realized what the Preservation Society’s next move would be, maybe she could have stopped it. At the very least she could have warned Leonardo about the risks.

“He’s got to be in one of his hotels,” she said to herself. He could have given strict orders to tell no one of his presence, and he could be going under a different name. When a man like him owned dozens of hotels around the world, how difficult could it really be to disappear? She could make a list, check them off one by one. Nicolo had said that Leonardo had probably flown on a public airline because he hadn’t borrowed Nicolo’s private jet. So, she could call the airlines and bribe someone to give her information, or at the very least she could make a list of all outgoing available flights over the last few days.

But then she thought of Italy, a mere ferry boat ride away. He could have gone there, and he could be there now… or he could have gone anywhere.

Pulling the stack of books from the corner of Leonardo’s desk, she flipped through the glossy printed, picture laden design books one by one. There was one on the palaces of India. Another one focused on the cathedrals of Italy. Then, there were the castles of Germany.

Her hand stopped as she reached for the next book.

“Cabins?” All of the other books had been about larger than life locations, but the cover of this book was adorned by a simple one-story cabin that looked no more than 800 square feet large. There was nothing ornate or grand about it other than its simplicity and the beauty of its surroundings.

She slid the book in front of her and began leafing though its pages. They were filled with everything from rustic cabins to cabins that would be better described as mansions. Then she noticed it, the inscription inside the book’s front cover. “The Rocky Mountains are waiting. Enjoy the solitude!” Scribbled beneath the inscription was a messily scrawled name.

“E. Podesko? M. Bolezki?” She stared at the name, doing her best to decipher it. Finally, she pulled up the internet on Leonardo’s computer and started searching. She put in cabin, Rocky Mountains, and plugged in every variation of the signature that she could think of. Finally, she struck gold.

“Frank Poclenski!” She clicked on the man’s website and started to read. He was an architect who specialized in cabins within the Colorado area. “The Rocky Mountains,” Stella whispered to herself as she Googled the location of the Rocky Mountains that cut through the state of Colorado.

A smile grew, at first tentative but soon energized and full of hope. “Bianca!” She called out for Leonardo’s assistant. The young woman appeared in the doorway a moment later.

“Did you find him?” she asked with hopeful eagerness.

“Not yet, but I’m getting closer. Does Leonardo have any connections with anyone in Colorado?”

“In America? No, none that I know of.”

Stella pressed her lips together into a determined, thin line. “It doesn’t matter,” she said standing up. “That’s where I’m going. He’s got to be there.”

“Colorado? But that doesn’t make any sense,” Bianca said with her eyes wide and full of shock.

Stella thought of her trip to the used bookstore with Leonardo and how the shopkeeper had had books that he’d gotten in on special order for Leonardo. They’d been about the lore of the American Old West.

“No, it makes perfect sense,” Stella said, taking a deep, triumphant breath. “I’m going to America to hunt down a Sicilian man in hiding.” She was going to save the Romano del Mare, and she was going to get Leonardo to help her do it.