loggias.
The rooms were all huge—several between thirty-five and forty feet long. In fact, the his and hers master baths were bigger than most condos. There was an elevator, a billiard room, a nine car garage, a summer kitchen, an infinity pool, two docks in their own yachting lagoons, and an outdoor living room that had two-story ceilings and a massive stone fireplace facing the bay, which they were now enjoying.
“Seventeen, huh?” Stella asked, actually thinking that, because of the view and private beachfront, it could come in for a lot more than that. “In other parts of the world, it would sell for possibly as high as forty mill.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, how many homes do you have now?” Dario asked, tossing his phone onto the coffee table and putting up his feet, careful not to knock over the large candle holders and artfully arranged bowls of seashells in the center of the table. “I always wondered if you’d kept them all.”
“I’ve still got way too many,” Stella said, picking at the tassels on the gilt-edged damask pillows lining the back of the sofa she’d curled up on. “I’m actually going to sell most of them. It’s a shame that they remain empty most of the time. Well, I suppose they’re not empty. As you know, we have a full staff at each one to keep up with daily operations.”
As part of any deal she made to sell or lease the properties, Stella would make sure to secure each employee’s future. If things didn’t work out for any of them with the new owners, they would always be able to get employment from her other business interests. If you worked hard and were loyal to the Anastas family, you and your family were taken care of. That was one of her father’s business practices that she was proud to carry on.
“There are large villas and estates in Ibiza, apartments in Paris, London, Geneva and New York. Ski villas in St. Moritz. A skyscraper on Park Avenue. Several islands off of the coast of Greece and estates in Argentina and Buenos Airies. And then there are the yachts. A few of those,” Stella said, feeling the familiar twist in her gut trying to reconcile how much she had when compared to most people.
“How do you ever manage so many properties? We’re down to three personal homes we shuffle between. But the properties now owned by Kristianico itself are vast and quite complicated. Much more so than when you and I were together. Managing them is a total nightmare. We’ve got casinos, hotels, museums, restaurants and shops, all of which feed our kingdom’s coffers.”
“It’s exactly on account of the nightmares that I’m selling,” Stella said. “It’s insane for one person, even with the help and resources you and I have, to try to keep so many properties thriving. Our money and time can be better spent elsewhere.”
“I can’t sell though,” Dario said, sighing.
The crackling embers snapping and popping in the fireplace seemed to echo his angst.
“The success of our properties keeps our people from having to pay taxes.”
“Still no taxes, huh? If my father was alive, he’d still be doing business with your family,” Stella said and laughed. “As you probably remember, he was all for flying the flags of convenience. Whichever countries offered him the most for the least, he created companies there.”
“I just hope I can keep it going, and I think I can. I’ve got some innovative ideas to modernize Kristianico and boost our tourism. But, without an heir, my ideas really won’t matter,” Dario said, rising to give the fire a poke.
Even though the fire did need stirring, Stella saw the look on Dario’s face. Trying to reconcile his place in Kristianico without an heir would require a much longer walk than to the fireplace and back. Maybe that’s why he’d come to Sarasota, she thought. Long walks on the beach had always helped him find answers, too.
“What does your ability to rule your country and try your ideas have to do
The rooms were all huge—several between thirty-five and forty feet long. In fact, the his and hers master baths were bigger than most condos. There was an elevator, a billiard room, a nine car garage, a summer kitchen, an infinity pool, two docks in their own yachting lagoons, and an outdoor living room that had two-story ceilings and a massive stone fireplace facing the bay, which they were now enjoying.
“Seventeen, huh?” Stella asked, actually thinking that, because of the view and private beachfront, it could come in for a lot more than that. “In other parts of the world, it would sell for possibly as high as forty mill.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, how many homes do you have now?” Dario asked, tossing his phone onto the coffee table and putting up his feet, careful not to knock over the large candle holders and artfully arranged bowls of seashells in the center of the table. “I always wondered if you’d kept them all.”
“I’ve still got way too many,” Stella said, picking at the tassels on the gilt-edged damask pillows lining the back of the sofa she’d curled up on. “I’m actually going to sell most of them. It’s a shame that they remain empty most of the time. Well, I suppose they’re not empty. As you know, we have a full staff at each one to keep up with daily operations.”
As part of any deal she made to sell or lease the properties, Stella would make sure to secure each employee’s future. If things didn’t work out for any of them with the new owners, they would always be able to get employment from her other business interests. If you worked hard and were loyal to the Anastas family, you and your family were taken care of. That was one of her father’s business practices that she was proud to carry on.
“There are large villas and estates in Ibiza, apartments in Paris, London, Geneva and New York. Ski villas in St. Moritz. A skyscraper on Park Avenue. Several islands off of the coast of Greece and estates in Argentina and Buenos Airies. And then there are the yachts. A few of those,” Stella said, feeling the familiar twist in her gut trying to reconcile how much she had when compared to most people.
“How do you ever manage so many properties? We’re down to three personal homes we shuffle between. But the properties now owned by Kristianico itself are vast and quite complicated. Much more so than when you and I were together. Managing them is a total nightmare. We’ve got casinos, hotels, museums, restaurants and shops, all of which feed our kingdom’s coffers.”
“It’s exactly on account of the nightmares that I’m selling,” Stella said. “It’s insane for one person, even with the help and resources you and I have, to try to keep so many properties thriving. Our money and time can be better spent elsewhere.”
“I can’t sell though,” Dario said, sighing.
The crackling embers snapping and popping in the fireplace seemed to echo his angst.
“The success of our properties keeps our people from having to pay taxes.”
“Still no taxes, huh? If my father was alive, he’d still be doing business with your family,” Stella said and laughed. “As you probably remember, he was all for flying the flags of convenience. Whichever countries offered him the most for the least, he created companies there.”
“I just hope I can keep it going, and I think I can. I’ve got some innovative ideas to modernize Kristianico and boost our tourism. But, without an heir, my ideas really won’t matter,” Dario said, rising to give the fire a poke.
Even though the fire did need stirring, Stella saw the look on Dario’s face. Trying to reconcile his place in Kristianico without an heir would require a much longer walk than to the fireplace and back. Maybe that’s why he’d come to Sarasota, she thought. Long walks on the beach had always helped him find answers, too.
“What does your ability to rule your country and try your ideas have to do
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