Читать книгу Ultimate Romance Collection - Rebecca Winters, Amalie Berlin - Страница 111
ОглавлениеTWO HOURS LATER Tuccia was in tears. She’d turned out two batches of half-moon shells filled with cream, but they’d been failures. Cesare had tried to eat one and it had fallen apart because she hadn’t shaped it right. He had to eat it in pieces. She had to smother a moan watching him.
“The taste of this is superb.”
“That doesn’t count when its misshape falls apart before reaching your mouth. I tried to execute your directions to the letter, but I couldn’t seem to get it right.” She dried her eyes with a towel, but they kept falling. “This will never do. I’m going to make the recipe again.”
He reached for the towel and wiped her cheeks. “We don’t want your tears falling into your next attempt.” His comment made her laugh and he kissed both her cheeks before she got started again on a third batch.
His pride in her work ethic kept growing while she took pains to crimp the edges just right. Another hour passed before he tested a sample of her latest work. “I find no fault in this presentation or the taste.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, but he could tell she still wasn’t happy.
Cesare had no doubt that when he left the apartment, she’d make up another batch. Her fighting spirit was a trait he admired more than she would ever know. He stood against the doorjamb and watched while she put the third tray of shells inside the fridge.
“Did Gemma tell you about Maurice Troudeau, our executive chef?”
A corner of her delectable mouth lifted. “She said the key with him was to praise his work often and ask for help once in a while, even if you don’t need it. I used that technique on Auguste Senlis, the most difficult history professor at the Sorbonne, and it worked.”
Of course it did, but he wasn’t smitten because of her smarts. No man anywhere who came into her sphere could remain unaffected. Takis and Vincenzo were a case in point.
“If I have a concern, it’s because your French is too perfect. You’re a princess on the run who speaks it fluently. Unfortunately you can’t afford to speak it with him at all. When I introduce you, you’ll be known as Nedda Bottaro from Sicily who speaks Sicilian with a Palermo dialect. Your knowledge of English is too minimal to count on. That’s it.”
“I understand.”
He was sure she did. “Have you thought of a backstory? The staff will ask and you’ll have to be ready.”
“Yes. I was born in the back room of a bordello in Trapani and never knew my father. My mother didn’t, either.”
Cesare was having trouble holding back his laughter.
“When I was old enough to be of use, she gave me to the woman next door who was a cook and needed a helper. I never went to school. After my mother died of an infection, I ran away to Palermo and did all kinds of jobs until I prevailed on a baker to let me work for him. I liked that work best and stayed there until I was discovered by you!” Her gray eyes stared straight into his. “What do you think?”
At this minute he didn’t dare tell her what he thought or felt. He was in love with her. “I have one suggestion. At least say that you went to school once in a while. Your intelligence shines through in everything you say and do.”
“So does yours. Thank you for tonight’s cooking lesson. I’ll see you in the morning.”
If she had any idea he would rather stay with her all night and every night, she’d fly out the door. “Tuccia? Before I leave, let’s go in the living room and talk for a minute about something serious. You’ve been cooped up here for several days, no doubt missing a few friends to talk to.”
Cesare went in the other room first so she’d follow. They both sat down. He took a chair and she the couch. “I know you’ve run away from your parents, but deep down this has to be torturous for you.”
She curled up against the side. “If I told you the truth, I’m afraid you might think me a person with no natural affection.”
He steadied himself. “Explain that.”
“I know you’re supposed to love your parents. I suppose I do in a philosophical way, but it’s Zia Bertina I’ve always turned to. She was the mother I needed. My own was cold and my father was always a stranger to me. When I think of them, I get an empty feeling inside. With a mother like yours, I know you can’t comprehend it.”
Cesare shifted in the chair. “You’re right.” He had no words.
“I don’t tell you this so you’ll feel sorry for me, but only to explain that I’ve lived with this situation for twenty-five years. Your concern for my feelings has touched me very much, but you needn’t worry yourself on my account because I have to stay secluded. As long as I have my zia who has loved me all my life, I’m happy.”
He sucked in his breath. “But it’s still not too late for you to leave Milan and do what you want, whether in Catania or elsewhere. You should be able to embark on a new life, work at something that interests you and make new friends.”
“Find a lover I’ve chosen?” she added in a voice that made her sound much older.
He closed his eyes for a moment. “Why not?”
“I never wanted the fiancé I can’t stand, let alone some lover, followed by another and then another that goes on and on like a revolving door. We royals are known for it. To be honest I can’t think of anything worse.”
Neither could Cesare.
“Right now there’s just one thing on my mind. To prove that I can make a success of something truly important, not only to me, but to you and your partners. Your ristorante is without a pastry chef. If I could pull this off, nothing would make me happier.”
Her earnestness crept through him, causing his throat to swell. “I believe you mean that.”
She nodded. “I’ve surprised myself. Do you know what a shock it is to discover that I like such painstaking work? Who would have thought I’d find it a challenge to crimp the edges of those half moons so they were just right? But if you think there’s still too much danger, or that it’s really not going to work, then please tell me now and I’ll leave whenever you say.”
Humbled by an inner purity in her, Cesare got up from the chair. When he’d suggested they come in the living room for a little talk, he never expected to feel his heart torn apart by the confessions of a girl whose parents hadn’t been able to show her how precious she was.
The backstory she’d concocted for the staff could only have come from a princess who’d been born with every advantage under the sun except love.
“Rest assured we need you right here, Tuccia.” He leaned over to kiss her lips briefly, unable to help himself. But if she’d wanted to respond, he didn’t give her the chance and stood up. “Stay where you are. You look too comfortable to move. I’ll let myself out and see you in the morning with breakfast and more groceries.”
After a detour to the kitchen for one of the pans of cassateddi to share with his friends, he left for the castello a different man than the one he’d been four hours ago.
On the drive home, Cesare pulled out his cell to call his mother. He was glad to hear that his sister was there visiting with her husband and baby. They all chatted for a few minutes until Isabella got off the line.
“Now we can talk about important matters, Cesare. I have to tell you Bertina is out of her mind with worry.”
“Let her know I just came from being with Tuccia. She sends her love and wants to assure her zia all is well. She would phone, but knows the police have tapped the lines.”
“I’m sure of it. Tuccia is really all right?”
“Would I tell you otherwise?”
“No, figlio mio. I trust you with my life.”
“That’s nice to hear. Does Bertina have any more news about the search?”
“The police are baffled. Their bungling has enraged her sister and brother-in-law. Bertina’s sources tell her that Jean-Michel is so overcome he has remained incommunicado to the media. There’s been no ransom note and they fear for her welfare.”
“I have something to tell you, Mamma.” In the next breath he told her about the letter being sent to Jean-Michel. “Once he receives it, everything will change.”
“It can’t get to him soon enough!”
“I agree.” In the meantime Tuccia would hear the worst when she turned on her TV. “I hope Bertina is putting on the show of her life to prove how grief-stricken she is.”
“If I didn’t know the truth, I’d be convinced she’s in the depths of despair. I’ve decided she could have been a great actress.”
Superb acting appeared to run in the royal family. Tuccia’s fashion show earlier this evening had stunned him close to speechless.
“One more thing you should know, Cesare. Bertina says Tuccia’s parents are truly distraught over the situation and she can tell this experience has caused them to realize it’s their fault that she’s run away. They are beside themselves with worry and she senses a softening.”
“That’s wonderful news, Mamma.” When he could, he’d relay that message to Tuccia. “Tell me about Ciro.”
“If there are no more complications, he’ll be taken to a private room tomorrow.”
“We’ll hope for the best. I have to hang up now, but I’ll call you soon. Bona notti, Mamma.”
* * *
It was ten after one in the afternoon and Tuccia still hadn’t finished cooking this latest recipe. She let out a moan. “These sfingi di San Giuseppe balls are all wobbly. I can’t make them even.”
Cesare chuckled. Nothing seemed to bother him. The man had arrived early that morning in jeans and a silky claret-colored open-necked sport shirt looking devilishly gorgeous. There ought to be a law against it.
She hadn’t slept all night remembering the taste of his mouth on hers. He wouldn’t have kissed her if he didn’t have feelings for her. It was the reason she’d been a mess after he’d left the apartment the night before. Since then she’d been reliving that moment and wanted to repeat the experience. But this time she wouldn’t let him go.
“They’re supposed to look like that.”
“No, they’re not! What am I doing wrong?”
“Nothing. When they’re fried, their centers will hollow out so you can fill them.”
She shot him a glance. “You promise?”
“I swear it. Have you put out the toweling?”
“It’s right here on the counter next to the stove.”
“Have you checked the temperature of the olive oil?”
“Yes. The thermometer says it’s ready.”
“Then get started. Remember not to let the ball plop, but don’t be afraid of it.”
Tuccia began the laborious process of cooking and draining. They smelled good and everything was going fine until the last one. It fell off the spoon too fast and some drops of oil splashed on her wrist. She cried out in surprise.
Cesare was there so fast he had her hand under the cold water before she could think. “Keep it there for a few minutes,” he said while he removed the oil and turned off the burner.
“I tried to be careful, but I was clumsy.”
“I defy anyone cooking with oil for the first time to escape with no burns.”
While the water was still running he examined the three small welts on her skin. “These will hurt, but I have a remedy my mother used that works well.”
She couldn’t feel the pain, not while their bodies were so close and he was touching her. “Thank you,” she said in a tremulous voice before lifting her head.
His eyes searched hers before his free hand caressed the side of her face. “I’m sorry you got burned,” he whispered.
Tuccia felt his breath on her lips. Her heart felt like it was going to pump right out of her chest. Driven by her love for him, she pressed her mouth to his, daring to let him know she wanted more. “It’s nothing,” she whispered, then quickly turned to put her hand under the water once more.
He moved away from her. “I’ll run to the farmacia and be right back.” Cesare was out the door before she could think. It was just as well. If he’d stayed close to her a second longer, she would have made a complete fool of herself and thrown her arms around his neck.
She’d never known the white-hot heat of desire for a man until now. To experience its power for herself was life-changing. The few guys at college she’d flirted with in class had meant nothing more than a little experimentation that couldn’t go anywhere.
Though she’d always planned to run away before she had to marry Jean-Michel, she never expected to find loving fulfillment with one man. Tuccia hadn’t believed such a thing was possible. First she had to find the right man, and he had to find her.
But when she heard the door open and Cesare walked back in the apartment with a small sack in his hand, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she was looking at the right man. The only man for her. She felt it in the marrow of her bones.
Tuccia turned off the water and waited. He walked over to the counter and pulled from a shelf the bottle of honey she’d used in one of the recipes. Next, he opened the sack and drew out some gauze pads and a small box of plasters.
Without looking at her he covered the gauze with honey and said, “Put out your arm and we’ll get rid of that pain.”
Tuccia did his bidding. Within a minute he’d covered the three welts with the gooey gauze pads and secured them with a plaster. She marveled at his dexterity. “I had no idea honey could be used like this.”
“It has dozens of restorative elements.”
“Thank you, Cesare. I’m very lucky to have a boss who’s a doctor, too.”
He smiled a smile that sent her pulse off the charts. “You should be feeling relief soon.”
“That’s good because I need to poke a hole in those balls and fill them with the ricotta cream I’ve made.”
Cesare darted her a glance. “All of it will keep. Before you do any more cooking, I thought we’d pick up lunch and have a picnic. It will give those burns a chance to settle down.”
“A picnic? I’d love it! When I think about it, I haven’t been on one of those since I was a little girl. My zia would take me to the park and we’d feed the birds. I’ll grab the things I need and meet you at the car.”
She dashed into the bedroom for her scarf. When she’d put it on, she slid her sunglasses in place and hurried out of the apartment. Cesare, the striking, quintessential Sicilian male, was there to help her in and they drove off.
For once in her life, what was happening to her wasn’t a dream her mind had concocted while she’d been asleep. She was wide awake. This was real. Her feelings were real and she wanted to shout to the world that she was madly in love with him.
He stopped at a local deli for takeout and they headed toward Milan. Before long he turned onto the grounds of the Giardino Della Guastalla. “These gardens are five hundred years old,” he explained. “I know the perfect spot where we can be alone. Maybe we’ll be able to feed a few birds the remnants of our lunch. Do you mind sitting on the grass?”
“To be out in nature is exactly what this warm day calls for.”
He parked and they walked to a lush spot beneath a giant oak tree. The freedom to be out here alone with Cesare made her giddy. After removing her sunglasses, she lay down in the grass on her stomach and rested her head against her arms.
“Careful of those burns,” he said, sitting down next to her.
She squinted up at him. “Honestly? I forgot I was hurting. Your honey has worked miracles.”
“I’m glad.” Cesare opened up the cartons. She turned on her side and leaned on one elbow while they ate shrimps and pasta salad with little forks. He opened a bottle of red wine and poured it into cups. She drank some and munched on a French bread roll.
“I feel sinful lying here.”
Blue eyes full of amusement roved over her. “Because you’re with me instead of your former fiancé?”
“No.” She smiled. “Because I’m with someone I care about to the exclusion of anyone else,” she said before it was too late to stop her thoughts from becoming verbal.
He drank the rest of his wine. “Surely there’ve been some men you’ve liked who have tried to have a secret relationship with you?”
“I was always under surveillance, Cesare.” She looked at him through veiled eyes. “As you know, there are different levels of liking without much emotional involvement. I liked some of the guys in my classes, but didn’t have the freedom to do anything about it. But to actually care for someone means having the time to explore feelings that touch on the deeper elements of the human heart.”
Realizing she’d said too much, Tuccia sat up and wound her arms around her upraised knees. “I’m afraid I’ve embarrassed you when I didn’t mean to.”
Cesare leaned closer. “Why would I be embarrassed to be paid a compliment like that?”
She put her sunglasses back on. “You always know the right thing to say, so I’ll never see what’s really going on inside you. But I’m thankful for this moment out of time to enjoy the company of a man revered by his mother and his friends. No men from my world can claim that distinction.”
“Do you mind if I ask you a question about Jean-Michel?”
“Of course not.”
“When your marriage was arranged, had you already met him?”
“No. My parents gave one of their many parties at our palazzo and insisted I attend. I was only sixteen and had refused to go because I couldn’t bear to be around grownups. But this time my father came to my room carrying a long dress. He said he would wait while I put it on. It was humiliating to be walked from my apartment to the grand ballroom like I was a baby.
“He led me through their usual set of guests to my mother. She was standing next to a man twice my age I didn’t recognize and didn’t like on sight. He was shorter than my father and overdressed, reminding me of a peacock. I shrank from his dark eyes where the lids remain at half mast like some French men’s.
“My father introduced me to Jean-Michel Ardois, the son of Comte Ardois of Paris. He wasn’t Sicilian, another huge strike against him. The man kissed my hand and slid a ring with a crest on my finger. While I stood there in shock, my father announced our engagement.”
Tuccia smiled at the man who’d become the center of her universe. “Aren’t you sorry you asked?”
His expression had sobered. “I want to know everything about you. Where’s the betrothal ring now?”
“I’m sure it has been returned to Jean-Michel. I left it on the floor of the ladies’ room at the salon.”
He studied her features. “How often did you have to spend time with him?”
“Twice a year I endured a visit from him at my parents’ palazzo until my father enrolled me at the University of Paris. He said I would have to learn French in order to be the comte’s wife. Once my parents took an apartment there, I had to go to the ballet or the opera with him every few months. Several times we went horseback riding on the Ardois estate. Our desultory conversations were worse than waiting for a train that never seems to come.”
Cesare drank more wine. “You’re not only articulate, you paint haunting pictures. Tell me more.”
It was wonderful being able to open her thoughts and heart to him. “The first time we went out alone, I made up my mind I would run away before the marriage on my twenty-fifth birthday. If I could have disappeared the night of the betrothal, I would have. But I was never left alone until that morning at the salon for my dress fitting,”
“Literally never?” He sounded incredulous.
“Never. My parents accused me of being a willful child and didn’t trust me. Someone was always watching me, even when I stayed with Zia Bertina.”
A strange sound came out of him. “Did he ever try to take advantage of you?”
“Yes. I was so disgusted I slapped his face hard and pushed him off me. It left a red mark that probably branded him for several hours.”
“Did he try to accost you every time you were together?”
She could tell Cesare’s dislike for Jean-Michel was growing more intense. “No. I don’t think he dared for fear I’d do something worse. Instead he bided his time until he had legal power over me. Grazie a Dio that never happened.”
On that note she got to her feet and put the cartons back in the bag with the rest of the wine. To her surprise he stood up and put his arms around her from behind. “I thank God it didn’t happen to you, either.” He kissed her neck.
Tuccia could have died of happiness right there, but a group of people were walking by. Cesare had seen them, too, because he let go of her.
“We—we need to get going so I can finish the sfingi and start the testa di turco,” she stammered. Before he could say anything else she added, “My arm is so much better I can hardly believe it, so you don’t have to worry that I can’t work anymore today, Dr. Donati.”
His quiet laughter hid whatever he was really thinking. Together they walked to the car. He gave her arm a squeeze before helping her get in. She’d wanted him to crush her against him and tell her he was in love with her, too.
Unfortunately this interlude was over, but it was yet another one with him she’d always treasure. The memories were stacking up and her love for him was exploding.
