Date: 15 Febbraio 2018 Location: The Due Torri Hotel Time: Evening Status: closed, to @evcravens
The Due Torri Hotel’s ballroom is filled with the wide grins and curious eyes of Verona’s elite, chandeliers overhead casting halos above its occupants as bubbly Prosecco is constantly poured from behind counters, and amongst the chatter and glittering jewels is a live band performing some song that no one actually knows the name of but can recall enough that it’s pleasing to their ears. It’ll be like this for hours yet. Invitations to tonight’s engagement party being one of the most sought-after during La Festa Degli Innamorati, and as Beau had gone from one city of love to the next-- well, he had to make sure his grand entrance was as unforgettable as possible.
He’s from one of the top families in Paris. Beau Renaud is the new publisher and editor-in-chief of L’Arena. The man practically glows now as he celebrates his engagement to one of Verona’s most beloved, and he doesn’t speak a lick of Italian.
There hadn’t been enough time to learn much more than some poorly pronounced pleasantries before he’d been sent here, and thus far he’d been lucky to be able to speak to Daphne and her family in French as he settled into Verona. Yet, his secondary language of English can only get him so far with tonight’s guests, and that hardly counted for a third of them. It’s occurred to him in the past hour that having such a large party where he was expected to greet every guest wasn’t the best idea, but now that he’s here, he’d might as well make the best of it.
Beau decidedly removes himself from a couple with a gracious apology and excuse of wishing to find his fiancee, and as he turns away, he seems to have found the answer to his prayers as the room around him glows all the brighter.
Everett Craven: CEO and chairman of Craven & Ricci, philanthropist, Italian socialite, and the charming billionaire was voted last year’s fifth most eligible (non-royal) bachelor in Europe (Beau ranked fourth). Though to some end each of those things matter to Beau, what matters most at this second is that he knows the man speaks English. In record time and with surprising grace he makes his way halfway across the room, politely side-stepping and smiling past guests while keeping an eye on the man to make sure he doesn't disappear from his line of sight.
“My God, is that Everett Craven?”
The question is lain thick with the drama of a stage actor as his grin only seems to grow wider, hands reaching out as though to embrace an old friend (and not the complete stranger that the other male certainly is). It’s one, two, three alternating exuberant cheek kisses later that he releases one of the man’s shoulders and as a server passes by with flutes of Prosecco, he then turns and lets go of him entirely to snatch up two glasses in an expert flourish. It’s hardly a half-step and blink later he offers his hand for the male’s to take. If he’s going to be making friends here in Verona, he ought start making them quick. And who better than one of the richest and globally influential in attendance who speaks English? That excited smile of his never leaves his expression, eyes glimmering with happiness that’s a degree less forced than a few moments ago. “Beau Renaud. It is an absolute pleasure to meet you and an honour to have you in attendance.”