Читать книгу Tuscan Heat - Deborah Fletcher Mello - Страница 12
ОглавлениеDonovan moved from his kitchen into his family room, hanging up the telephone he carried in his hand. He’d been on a conference call with Maitlyn and his brothers, acquiring help for his impending trip. His Lafayette Street loft had been his single greatest investment, and he needed to ensure that someone in the family stayed on top of things while he was gone, lest Tarah turn his home into a sorority party house.
Making sure the doors were locked and the security system engaged, he headed to his office. He sat down in the leather executive’s chair, pulling it up to the large oak desk as he turned on his computer. As he waited for it to power on, Donovan folded his hands in his lap, dropping into deep thought.
Donovan was the third child and the second son in the family of nine. With a doctorate in mathematics, he was a tenured professor at Tulane University. The most conservative of all his siblings, he was an intellectual challenge to most. His staid demeanor made his sister Katrina, a district court judge, and his brother Mason, a billionaire entrepreneur and business executive, look wild in comparison. His younger siblings frequently professed that he defied all logic with them having careers in the arts and him having no artistic inclinations whatsoever. Even his brother Kendrick, who had often kept much of his life a deep, dark secret until meeting Vanessa, was more outspoken and outgoing than Donovan tended to be.
But Donovan had secrets, too, the likes of which would make his whole family sit up and take notice. His very conservative, very organized lifestyle had always been an open book, and now he was keeping details close to the vest. His interest in Italy was just the tip of the cache of secrets he’d been keeping from his family. A full grin pulled wide across his face.
He focused on the lengthy list of email messages that filled his inbox folder. He was searching for one in particular, and when he found the familiar email address his smile widened.
For months now he’d been pen pals with a woman who lived in Italy. A woman he had yet to meet or speak to in person. He only knew her from the award-winning books she was renowned for, her promotional photo gracing the back cover of each. But he’d become obsessed with the email messages from her that came daily, the engaging exchanges brightening his otherwise dull existence. And now he was being afforded an opportunity to visit Italy and meet her in person. Never much of a risk taker, Donovan rarely found himself out of his comfort zone. He could only begin to imagine what his siblings would have to say if any of them were to find out.
He didn’t have to imagine what his parents would say. He could already hear their admonishments and concerns, both asking questions he didn’t necessarily have answers for. He had never heard of any online relationship turning out well. For all any of them knew, he could have just as easily been chatting with Bubba in the state penitentiary. He no more knew who was on the other end of that computer than she did. He only knew what he was being told, and any of it could have been a bold-faced lie. The anonymity of the internet made embellishing and stretching the truth an easy thing to do. But something about the eloquence of her words had Donovan trusting that he did indeed have a connection with the illustrious author.
He read the message that had come hours earlier.
I live a charmed life. I get to live in a beautiful villa in the Tuscan Maremma, eat pasta prepared by an amazing Italian chef and travel to charming cities whenever I want. What’s not to love? I imagine that finally meeting you will be the icing on some very sweet, sweet cake! So, please, come. I can’t wait to show you everything exquisite about Italy.
A shiver of excitement surged up Donovan’s spine. He reached for the four-hundred-page mystery novel that rested on the corner of the desk. Mayhem and Madness by Gianna Martelli had landed on the New York Times bestseller list three weeks earlier and didn’t seem to be going anyplace anytime soon. He flipped the book in his hand to stare at the photograph on the back jacket.
Gianna Martelli was a stunning beauty, and he imagined that the professionally shot black-and-white image didn’t begin to do her justice. Her dark eyes were focused on the camera, and he felt as if she were staring directly at him. The look she was giving was searing, her gaze intense. But there was something about her expression that gave him pause, made him wish he could reach through the pages to draw her into his arms and hold her tight. He sighed.
Two books ago he’d reached out to email her, wanting to offer his opinion of her current novel at the time. He’d been excited to share his opinions about her characters, the protagonist a math professor at a historically black college. He’d been eager to tell her where she’d gotten it wrong and what had been wholeheartedly right. He had only half expected a polite but scripted response. Instead, he’d gotten an intriguingly worded reply that had challenged his sensibilities. Curiosity had gotten the best of him and he’d written back, receiving another reply that had him suddenly wanting more. Before he knew it, they were exchanging lengthy emails and a delightful friendship was born.
He typed a quick message back.
You’ve convinced me and now I’m counting the days. I can’t wait to see that sunset you are always bragging about.
After adding his travel details, he pushed the send button. Moving from his office to his bedroom, he pulled an oversize suitcase from a closet shelf and began to pack.
* * *
Rushing into the large kitchen, Carina looked from her husband to her father and back. Both men paused, concern washing over their expressions.
“What’s wrong?” Graham questioned.
“Are you okay?” Franco asked, resting the knife in his hand on the butcher-block counter.
She shook her head vehemently. “Gianna’s going to kill me!”
The two men cut eyes at each other.
“What did you do, Carina?” Franco asked, eyeing his daughter with a narrowed gaze.
She raised both hands. “It’s really not that bad, but Gianna isn’t going to like it!” she exclaimed.
“What isn’t she going to like?” Graham asked.
Carina crossed the room to stare out a window. She moved from one to the other, and then to the door, to ensure that her twin was nowhere near.
Franco shook his head. “Gianna went into town for me. She’s not here.”
“He’s coming to Italy,” Carina blurted. “He’ll be here next week.”
“Who’s coming to Italy?”
“Donovan Boudreaux, the math professor from the United States.”
Both men seemed confused, tossing each other another look.
Carina sighed. “The man she’s been communicating with, except she doesn’t know she’s been communicating with him because I’ve been sending the messages.”
Both men snapped in unison. “You’ve been doing what?”
The young woman nodded. “I’ve been pretending to be Gianna. He’s been writing to her, and I’ve been answering.”
“Carina, why would you do something like that?” Graham snapped.
“Because I knew she wouldn’t, and I think they would make a really great couple. He’s just as nerdy as she is.”
“But he hasn’t been building a relationship with your sister, Carina—he’s been building one with you,” Franco said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Carina shook her head. “That’s not true. Every word I sent, she wrote. I copied them out of her journals.”
“You read your sister’s journals?” Her father’s look was disapproving.
“I’ve been reading her journals since we were twelve. Besides, I am her personal assistant. I’m supposed to answer her mail.”
“I don’t think that’s what your sister intended, daughter.” Franco shook his head from side to side. He went back to chopping the bulb of garlic that rested on the wooden chopping board. “Gianna is going to kill you!”
Graham laughed. “She is definitely going to kill you,” he said.
Carina rolled her eyes at her husband. “Thanks for the support.”
“So, what do you know about this guy?” Graham asked. “How do you know he’s not a psycho?”
“He teaches at Tulane University in New Orleans. He comes from a big family, and he reads the same boring stuff Gianna reads.”
“So he is a psycho!”
“He’s very sweet and a bit of a romantic. He’s exactly what Gianna needs.”
“So, tell me,” Graham said, turning to stare at his wife, a wooden spoon waving in his hand, “exactly when were you going to tell Gianna about this guy?”
“I hadn’t figured that out. I thought I had a little more time until he decided to come to Italy to meet me... I mean her.”
Graham continued to eyeball her. “I’m having some issues with this,” he said. “You’ve been having a relationship with another man for weeks...”
“Months actually,” Carina interrupted, her tone casual.
Graham paused, his eyebrows raised. “Months?”
His wife nodded as she gave him a quick shrug. “I was building a friendship between them. That takes time. And I was going to tell her. I think.”
He shook his head. “You’ve been building this relationship for months now, but I’m supposed to believe that you did it for your sister, when you didn’t even know if you were going to tell her?”
“You’re making it sound worse than it is!”
“It sounds the way it sounds, Carina, and it’s not kosher! It’s not kosher at all!”
Her father moved from the tomato sauce he’d put on the stove toward the door. “I’ll let you two have a minute,” he said. “Watch my pot while I’m gone, please.”
Carina blew out a soft sigh. She locked gazes with her husband, noting the disappointment and confusion that gleamed from his eyes. She didn’t have the words to explain how she’d rationalized what she’d done. All she knew was that in the beginning, it had made all the sense in the world to her. And that even in that moment she knew beyond any doubt that she’d done the right thing.
Since the publication of Gianna’s first book, Carina had stepped in to do those things Gianna neglected to do for herself. From managing her fan page to answering reader questions, Carina had been her sister’s personal assistant and marketing guru, maintaining her Twitter, Facebook and Instagram accounts. When Donovan’s first email message had come, there had been something in the tone of his words that had caught her attention. His comments had been thoughtful and provoking, his words laden with emotion. She instinctively knew he was exactly what her best friend in the whole wide world needed.
Her response had been all Gianna, the wisecracking, tongue-in-cheek retorts her sister was known for. As their emails had gotten lengthier, she’d pulled lines and paragraphs from Gianna’s personal writings to respond, wanting him to know her twin the way she knew her, in her sister’s own words. And it had worked because now he wanted to meet the woman he’d befriended. Admittedly, Carina hadn’t thought her plan through to the end. She’d imagined that once she’d vetted the man, she could have told Gianna and passed on the reins. Despite hoping that her twin would be happy to step in and take over, Carina knew that happy was probably going to be the last thing Gianna would feel about the situation.
She felt her husband still staring at her, and she lifted her eyes back to his. “Donovan likes Gianna. Everything he knows, he knows about Gianna. He doesn’t know me or anything about me! And when she finds out and gets to know him, she’s going to like him, too. I’d bet my last dollar on it. I just wanted her to be as happy as you and I are, and you know she wouldn’t have done anything like this on her own.”
Graham shook his head from side to side. “So when do you plan to tell Gianna?”
“Tell Gianna what?” Gianna asked as she moved into the room. She looked from one to the other. “What’s going on?”
Carina moved too quickly to her husband’s side, leaning against him for support. The two exchanged a quick look, a wave of nervous energy palpable around them.
Moving to the counter, Gianna dropped her bags against the wooden top. Her eyes were still locked on her sister and brother-in-law. The bubbling pot on the stove interrupted the moment as tomato sauce suddenly spewed over the sides and down to the stove top.
“Oh, hell!” Carina exclaimed, moving to lower the heat on their father’s meal.
Gianna watched with one hand on her hip as she waited for the duo to clean the mess. When the last dishrag had been rinsed, the pot back on simmer, she asked a second time, “So what is it that you have to tell me?”
Mumbling, Graham leaned over to kiss his wife’s cheek, then moved toward the door. Without another word, he disappeared through the entrance, leaving the two women alone. Gianna moved to stand in front of her sister, her arms crossed over her chest.
“What’s going on, Sissy?”
“Why don’t we sit down? Did you find everything you needed at the market?”
Gianna shook her head, her index finger waving in front of her sister’s face. “Oh, no, you don’t! You are not changing the subject, and don’t you move until you answer my question!”
Carina took a deep breath and then another. “I found you a boyfriend,” she said, and then she spewed out the story, not bothering to take another inhale of air until the last word had spilled past her lips.
* * *
“Open the door, Gianna,” Franco commanded. “You can’t hide in there forever.”
“I’m not hiding!” Gianna yelled back. “I just don’t want to talk to anyone.”
“Now, daughter! And don’t make me say it again.”
Gianna sighed deeply as she moved onto her feet toward her office door. She undid the lock and pulled it open just enough to peer out into the hallway. Standing on the other side, her father gave her that look, his mouth pursed tightly, his eyes narrowed. Sighing again, she stepped aside to let the man enter.
Franco moved to the upholstered sofa and sat down, turning his gaze to stare at his daughter. Neither spoke, Gianna still pouting in anger. As she sat down beside him, she couldn’t help but marvel at her father. His calm demeanor was soothing, and his dashing good looks made her smile.
The older she and her sister got, the more Gianna thought they were starting to look like their beloved father. His complexion was warm, his loose curls more silver than black. They had his nose and jawline, but neither had inherited his chilling blue eyes. He swore that both his girls resembled their mother, but Gianna didn’t necessarily agree, thinking they were a nice mesh of the two. She suddenly thought about her mother.
The beautiful black woman from New York City had been the love of her father’s life. A chance meeting while Angela Wilson had been an exchange student in Tuscany had solidified their future. Franco had always believed that they would have grown old together, but his beloved Angela had suffered a brain aneurysm when the twins were twelve years old. The loss had been devastating. Franco had thrown himself into running his family winery and loving his children. He still mourned the loss.
As long as Gianna could remember, she and her sister’s antics had been enough to keep him on his toes, and keep his head gray. And despite their love for one another, they spent more time angry with each other than not angry, with Gianna, the elder by ten minutes, always pouting because of something Carina had done.
“So when do you plan to speak to your sister?” her father asked.
Gianna rolled her eyes skyward. “Never! I cannot believe she would do this to me.”
“It was a little extreme, but her heart was in the right place.”
“This man is coming to visit, and he thinks there’s something between us and there isn’t. I don’t know anything about him.”
Her father nodded. “I imagine he’s going to be disappointed.”
“And his disappointment falls on me. She used my name. That’s unforgiveable.”
“Everything is forgivable.”
“Not this.”
Franco chuckled softly. “Even this. You just need to figure out how to make it right.”
“Why do I need to make it right? I didn’t do anything!”
“That may be true, but just like you pointed out, your sister used your name and now a man who doesn’t deserve it is going to be disappointed.”
Gianna screamed as she shook two fists in the air. “Aargh! I swear I could kill her!” She began to rant in her native Italian.
Franco chuckled softly. “That’s an option,” he said with a nod, “but I’m sure you can come up with something more creative. Something that will make everybody happy.” He tapped a warm palm against her knee.
Gianna shook her head as her father stood back on his feet.
“Carina loves you, Gianna. And you love her. What she did, she did out of love. Don’t you forget that, mia cara.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek.
She nodded slowly, meeting his gaze. “Va bene, papà,” she said, her expression unmoved.
As the patriarch made his way out of the room, Gianna rose to lock the door behind him. She wasn’t yet ready to face her twin, and she knew it would only take a quick minute for Carina to come busting her way inside if she found an opportunity.
She moved back to her desk and the oversize manila folder that rested on its surface. After her admission Carina had given it to Gianna, insisting she read the contents. Gianna still hadn’t bothered to break the cover to see just how deep Carina’s deception ran.
There was a soft knock at the office door. Carina called her name but Gianna ignored her sister, still staring at the stack of documents. Despite her anger she was intrigued, the curiosity pulling at her. Of all the stunts her sister had pulled over the years, this one had to be her most devious by far. And she was scared to death, fearful that there might be something she liked hidden in those pages that would draw her into her twin sister’s madness.
* * *
Outside Gianna’s window, a plethora of bright stars and a full moon illuminated the dark sky. She’d been reading for hours, the home on the other side of the office door having gone quiet for the night. Carina had tried more than once to get her attention until she’d finally given up, her tear-filled tone apologizing again and again for what she’d done.
Gianna picked up the very first message from the man named Donovan, rereading the words she’d already read a few dozen times.
Dear Ms. Martelli,
My name is Donovan Boudreaux. I’m a math professor at Tulane University in New Orleans, Louisiana. I have been a fan of yours since your first book, Bruised and Battered. Despite my previous intentions to write and tell you how much I’ve enjoyed your writing, I’ve always stopped myself, feeling that you probably would not want to be inundated with more fan mail. But I was so enthralled with your last story, and the character Dr. Hanover, that I could not let the opportunity to tell you what I think pass by. Your artistry is rare and your words are epic. I was captivated from the first sentence to the last. However, I’m curious to know if you intentionally wanted your readers to empathize with the protagonist despite his being so unlikable. Your disdain for this man was obvious, but as I found myself rooting for him I had to question your intent and wondered if the reflection of him as a man mirrored my own projections. Or are they reflections you masterfully and purposely elicited from us? I’d love to discuss him in further detail. I do hope you’ll respond.
Yours truly,
Donovan Boudreaux
Carina’s response had been brilliant, her sister pulling excerpts from two news interviews she’d done and quoting one of her favorite proverbs.
Mr. Boudreaux,
Thank you for your kind words. Your support of my work is appreciated, and I found your question interesting. I think what you deemed disdain was anything but. Dr. Hanover was one of my favorite characters to write, and I’m pleased that the dynamics of his personality did not get lost in the details of the mystery. Dr. Hanover’s character was drawn to invoke a whirlwind of emotion from the reader, that connection both thought-provoking and substantive. To quote one of my favorite Scriptures: “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” Proverbs 27:17. Dr. Hanover served his purpose if you were rooting for him, his advice and wisdom intended to sharpen yours. Thank you for reaching out and please do keep in touch.
Happy reading,
Gianna
And Donovan had kept in touch, continuing to write. His brief paragraphs had expanded to lengthier messages, and Carina had kept up nicely, pulling her responses right from Gianna’s private writings. Gianna was surprised by how her twin had pieced the responses together, some of the replies so spot-on that she would never have believed Carina had anything at all to do with them if she hadn’t known better. It was almost as if her twin had been stowed away in her head, privy to her thoughts and possessing an understanding of her worldview. It was a cosmic connection like no other, and Gianna didn’t know if she could have done the same so successfully.
She pulled one of his last messages from the folder, the literary connection having evolved into something she couldn’t even begin to define.
Dearest Gianna,
I marvel at how you’re able to articulate what I’m feeling, when I can’t even find the words. You are correct. I would be disappointed if I’m not selected for this teaching fellowship. But I’m a man, and my disappointment should not be telling. There are some issues I should not be sensitive about, and because I’m a man that sensitivity should definitely not show. If it does, it would be seen as a sign of weakness. What woman would want a weak man?
Gianna marveled, too. Her sister’s crafted reply had been award-worthy.
Donovan, Donovan, Donovan!
Every woman wants a man who owns his feelings! Sensitivity can never be seen as weakness if it walks hand in hand with honesty. Owning our emotions is empowering. Of course you’ll be disappointed! You worked hard to qualify for the opportunity. You want it! You are deserving of it! So claim it and think of the day you land in Italy, when you can stand beneath the brightest blue sky and watch the sunset that I watch daily. No woman should want a man who would do any less than that!
And now this stranger, who was connected with Gianna in a way that she found outrageously absurd, was on his way to the Italian coast, expecting that she would be as excited to see him as he was to see her. It was crazy and overwhelming, and despite every ounce of reservation she was feeling, she was intrigued and curious in the same breath.
