Destined Baggage

By Trisie Amberheart

"Destined Baggage" is a delightful romantic comedy that takes flight in the enchanting city of Florence, Italy. Klare, a successful but overworked lawyer, and Leo, a charming and adventurous photographer, find their paths unexpectedly intertwined when they accidentally swap luggage at the Florence airport. As they embark on a quest to retrieve their belongings, they encounter a series of hilarious misunderstandings and serendipitous adventures that bring them closer together.

With the help (and sometimes hindrance) of their meddling but well-meaning best friends, Sam and Ethan, Klare and Leo navigate the turbulence of their luggage swap while exploring the breathtaking beauty of Florence. From attending a photography exhibition and a legal gala in each other's contrasting outfits to accidentally crashing a traditional Italian wedding, their journey is filled with laughter, romance, and the discovery of their shared passions.

As their connection soars to new heights, Klare and Leo must confront the baggage of their past and the uncertainty of their future. Will they be able to land safely in each other's hearts, or will the turbulence of their experiences send them on different connecting flights?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Enchanted Realms Publishing
• Release date: May 11, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224206612

Book preview

Prologue

THERE ARE MOMENTS IN LIFE when the stars seem to align, and the universe conspires to bring two souls together. As if guided by an invisible hand, their paths intertwine, setting the stage for an extraordinary journey filled with laughter, love, and unexpected adventures.

I thought this was one of those moments. But the woman standing in front of me, her piercing green eyes filled with a mix of annoyance and amusement, seems determined to challenge that notion.

Excuse me, but I believe you have my luggage, she says, her voice carrying a hint of irritation. The bustling terminal of the Florence airport fades into the background as I focus on the striking blonde before me.

I’m sorry, but I think you’re mistaken, I reply, gesturing to the sleek black suitcase by my side. This is definitely mine.

Her perfectly shaped eyebrow arches, and a smirk plays on her lips. Is that so? Then why does it have my name on the tag?

I glance down at the luggage tag, and my heart sinks as I read the name: Klare Bardaent. This isn’t my suitcase at all.

Well, this is embarrassing, I say, rubbing the back of my neck sheepishly. It seems we’ve accidentally swapped luggage.

Klare sighs, her shoulders relaxing slightly. It appears so. I’m Klare, by the way. Klare Bardaent.

Leo Parker, I introduce myself, extending my hand. As our fingers touch, a spark of electricity seems to pass between us, catching me off guard.

Klare clears her throat, withdrawing her hand. Right, well, Leo, as much as I’d love to chat, I have a meeting to get to. Could we please swap our luggage back?

I nod, reaching for her suitcase. As I hand it over, our fingers brush once more, and I can’t help but notice how soft her skin feels against mine.

I’m sorry for the mix-up, I apologize, offering her a charming smile. I hope this doesn’t ruin your trip to Florence.

Klare’s expression softens, and a hint of a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. It’s fine. These things happen. I just hope my clothes aren’t too wrinkled," Klare said as her expression softened and a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

We exchange a few more pleasantries before parting ways, our respective suitcases in tow. As I watch Klare disappear into the crowd, I can’t shake the feeling that this chance encounter holds more significance than a mere luggage swap.

Little did I know that this brief interaction would set in motion a series of events that would change the course of our lives forever.

As I step out of the airport and into the warm Tuscan sun, I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of blooming flowers and freshly baked bread. The streets of Florence beckon, promising a world of art, history, and romance.

I hail a taxi, my mind still lingering on the captivating woman with the green eyes. There’s something about her that intrigues me, a spark that ignites a desire to unravel the mysteries hidden beneath her polished exterior.

As the taxi weaves through the narrow cobblestone streets, I find myself lost in thought, wondering if fate has something more in store for us. The city’s ancient buildings, with their ornate facades and intricate details, seem to whisper secrets of love stories that have unfolded within their walls over centuries.

I arrive at my hotel, a charming boutique nestled in the city's heart. As I check in, I can’t help but overhear a conversation between two guests, their voices filled with excitement.

Did you hear about the photography exhibition at the Uffizi Gallery tonight? a woman asks her companion.

Yes, I heard it’s showcasing some of the most talented up-and-coming photographers from around the world, the man replies.

My ears perk up at the mention of photography. As a freelance travel photographer, I’m always on the lookout for new inspiration and opportunities to connect with fellow artists.

I make a mental note to attend the exhibition, a flicker of anticipation stirring within me. Perhaps this is the universe’s way of guiding me towards my next grand adventure.

As I settle into my room, I can’t shake the feeling that something extraordinary is about to unfold. The city’s energy seems to crackle with possibility, and I find myself drawn to the window, gazing out at the sun-drenched streets below.

In the distance, the iconic Duomo looms, its magnificent dome a testament to the ingenuity and artistry of the Renaissance masters. I feel a surge of inspiration, a longing to capture the beauty and essence of this timeless city through my lens.

I unpack my camera, my fingers itching to explore the winding alleys and hidden treasures that Florence offers. But as I rummage through my suitcase, a sudden realization hits me like a bolt of lightning.

The clothes inside are not mine. The tailored suits and silk blouses are a far cry from my usual casual attire. I realize that in the chaos of the luggage swap, Klare and I must have inadvertently exchanged more than just our suitcases.

A mix of panic and amusement washes over me as I imagine Klare’s reaction upon discovering my well-worn jeans and faded band t-shirts in her luggage. I can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation.

But then, a thought strikes me. If I have Klare’s clothes, then she must have mine. And if she’s attending the same photography exhibition tonight, there’s a chance our paths may cross once more.

The idea sends a thrill through my veins, a flutter of excitement that I can’t quite explain. Perhaps this luggage swap is more than just a simple mistake. Perhaps it’s a sign, a cosmic nudge from the universe, urging us to take a chance on something unexpected.

With a newfound sense of purpose, I gather my belongings and head out into the Florentine streets, ready to embrace whatever adventures await me. The scent of espresso and freshly baked pastries fills the air, and the sound of laughter and animated conversations drifts from the cafes and trattorias that line the narrow alleyways.

As I walk, I can’t help but wonder what the future holds. Will Klare and I cross paths again? Will the spark that ignited between us grow into something more? Only time will tell.

But one thing is certain: at this moment, in this enchanting city filled with art, history, and romance, anything is possible. And I’m ready to embrace it all, one unexpected encounter at a time.

The Fateful Mix-Up

The bustling Aeroporto di Firenze-Peretola was a hive of activity as travelers from all corners of the globe converged upon the sleek, modern terminal. Sunlight streamed through the expansive glass facades, illuminating the vibrant Tuscan-inspired frescoes and intricate mosaics that adorned the walls. The air was filled with a cacophony of voices, a symphony of languages mingling with the constant hum of rolling luggage and the occasional announcement over the PA system.

Amidst the chaos, Klare Bardaent emerged from the jet bridge, her shoulder-length blonde hair slightly tousled from the long flight. The 32-year-old corporate lawyer from New York had been eagerly expecting this trip to Florence, a much-needed escape from the relentless demands of her high-powered job. With her carry-on bag slung over her shoulder and a determined stride, Klare navigated through the throng of passengers, her green eyes scanning the signs for the baggage claim area.

As she made her way through the terminal, Klare couldn’t help but feel a sense of frustration bubbling up inside her. The past few months had been a whirlwind of endless meetings, late nights at the office, and high-stakes negotiations. She had barely had a moment to breathe, let alone plan a proper vacation. But now, as she inhaled the scent of freshly brewed espresso wafting from a nearby café, Klare allowed herself a small smile. This trip was her chance to unwind, to immerse herself in the beauty and culture of Tuscany, and to finally put work aside, if only for a little while.

Klare glanced down at her watch, a sleek, silver timepiece that had been a gift from her father when she made partner at her law firm. She frowned slightly, noting that her flight had arrived nearly thirty minutes behind schedule. The delay had eaten into her carefully planned itinerary, and she silently hoped that the rest of her trip would flow.

As she approached the baggage claim area, Klare’s eyes darted to the screens displaying the carousel assignments. She quickly located her flight number and made a beeline for Carousel 3, weaving through the crowd with polished efficiency. A sea of travelers already surrounded the carousel, all jostling for position as they waited for their bags to appear.

Klare took a deep breath, trying to quell the impatience that was threatening to overtake her. She reminded herself that she was on vacation, that there was no need to rush. She had meticulously planned every detail of her trip, from the luxurious hotel suite she had booked at the Palazzo Belfiore to the guided tours of Florence’s most iconic landmarks. A few minutes waiting for her luggage wouldn’t throw everything off course.

As the carousel moved, Klare watched as a procession of suitcases of various sizes and colors emerged from behind the black rubber flaps. She scanned the bags intently, trying to spot her own among the endless stream of luggage.

Scusi, permesso, a voice said from behind her, the Italian words spoken with a gentle, apologetic tone.

Klare turned to see a man attempting to navigate through the crowd, his tall frame and broad shoulders making it a challenging feat. He wore a casual, bohemian-style outfit - a faded denim jacket over a white t-shirt, paired with well-worn jeans and scuffed leather boots. His dark, wavy hair appeared slightly disheveled, as if he had just stepped off a long flight himself.

The man caught Klare’s eye and offered a warm smile, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. Mi dispiace, he said, gesturing apologetically as he finally squeezed past her.

Klare returned the smile, momentarily disarmed by the stranger’s friendly demeanor. No worries, she replied, surprised at how easily the words flowed from her lips. She wasn’t usually one for casual conversations with strangers, especially not in the middle of a crowded airport.

The man nodded appreciatively and turned his attention back to the carousel, his gaze scanning the sea of bags with a practiced eye. Klare couldn’t help but notice the way he carried himself, with a laid-back confidence that seemed at odds with the chaos of the airport. There was something about him, an air of intrigue that piqued her curiosity.

Mentally shaking herself, Klare refocused on the task at hand. She had no time for idle speculation about handsome strangers, no matter how charming they might be. She needed to find her luggage and get to her hotel, to begin her long-awaited Tuscan adventure.

Just then, a familiar black suitcase caught her eye. Klare felt a wave of relief wash over her as she spotted the sleek, hard-shell case, adorned with a single red ribbon tied around the handle - a small touch she had added to make it easier to identify on the carousel.

She stepped forward, reaching out to grab the suitcase just as another hand shot out beside her, grasping the handle at the same moment. Klare turned, ready to politely assert her claim, only to find herself face to face with the same man from before.

Oh, scusi, he said, his eyes widening in surprise. I thought this was mine.

Klare glanced down at the suitcase, suddenly uncertain. The luggage looked strikingly similar to her own, but upon closer inspection, she noticed a minor detail that gave her pause. Instead of the red ribbon she had tied around the handle, this suitcase had a thin, braided leather bracelet looped through the zipper.

I’m sorry, Klare said, shaking her head. I think there’s been a mix-up. This one’s not mine after all.

The man chuckled, a warm, infectious sound that seemed to cut through the din of the airport. No worries, he said, echoing her earlier words. It’s a simple mistake to make. These bags all look the same after a while.

Klare couldn’t help but smile at that, feeling a bit of her earlier tension melt away. You’re right, she agreed, turning back to the carousel. I guess I’ll just have to keep looking.

The man nodded, stepping back to give her some space. Best of luck, he said, his tone sincere. I hope you find your bag soon.

Klare thanked him, and the two parted ways, their brief interaction already fading into memory as the hustle and bustle of the airport reclaimed their attention.

Several minutes passed, and Klare grew increasingly frustrated as the carousel continued to disappoint her. Suitcases of every size and color passed by, but none of them bore the telltale red ribbon she was searching for.

Just as she was about to give up and head to the lost luggage counter, a glint of red caught her eye. Klare’s heart leaped as she spotted a suitcase that looked identical to her own, complete with the ribbon tied around the handle. She surged forward, reaching out to grab the bag before it could disappear behind the rubber flaps once more.

As her fingers closed around the handle, Klare felt a sense of triumph wash over her. Finally, she could begin her vacation in earnest, without the stress of a missing suitcase hanging over her head.

She pulled the bag from the carousel, wheeling it behind her as she made her way towards the exit. The sights and sounds of the airport faded into the background as Klare’s mind raced ahead, already picturing herself exploring the cobblestone streets of Florence, sampling the local cuisine, and soaking in the rich history and culture of the city.

It wasn’t until she had almost reached the automatic doors that led to the arrivals hall that Klare realized something was amiss. The suitcase felt slightly heavier than she remembered, and the handle seemed to be a different texture beneath her palm.

Frowning, Klare came to a stop, glancing down at the bag with a growing sense of unease. Upon closer inspection, Klare noticed that the red ribbon tied around the handle was slightly frayed at the edges, as though someone had handled it roughly during the journey.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Klare knelt down and unzipped the suitcase, her heart pounding as she lifted the lid. Instead of the neatly folded designer clothes and carefully packed toiletries she had been expecting, Klare stared at a jumble of unfamiliar items - a battered leather journal, a well-worn map of Tuscany, and a tangle of camera equipment that looked like it had seen better days.

Klare’s mind reeled as the realization hit her. This wasn’t her suitcase at all. In the baggage's chaos claim, she had accidentally grabbed someone else’s luggage, mistaking it for her own.

A wave of panic washed over her as she considered the implications of the mix-up. All of her carefully packed belongings - her clothes, her shoes, her toiletries - were now in the hands of a complete stranger. And worse still, she did not know how to track down the owner of this suitcase, no way to rectify the situation.

Klare took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing of her heart. She was a problem-solver, a skilled negotiator who had built a career on her ability to think on her feet and find solutions to even the most challenging of situations. Surely, she could figure out a way to resolve this mix-up and get her own luggage back.

With a determined set to her jaw, Klare zipped the suitcase back up and wheeled it over to a nearby bench. She sat down heavily, her mind already racing as she tried to plan a plan of action.

The first step, she decided, would be to try to find some identifying information about the owner of the suitcase. Perhaps there would be a luggage tag or a business