Читать книгу Captivated By Her Italian Boss - Rosanna Battigelli - Страница 11

CHAPTER TWO

THIS NANNY JOB, if she got it, would be like winning the lottery, Neve thought wistfully. She wanted to get away. No, she needed to get away. Her mother, who was controlling at the best of times, had become especially clingy and obtrusive lately.

Neve sighed. She wished that some of the attention her mother was directing toward her nowadays had been given when her father had died and afterward. Neve could still remember feeling heartbroken and confused in her youth. Devastated that her dear father would no longer accompany her to any of her school events or swimming lessons, or read her any fairy tales at bedtime, and bewildered by her mother’s emotional distance. While her mother had eased her grief with a drink while staring out a window, Neve had often cried herself to sleep hugging the plush dragon her father had bought her for her seventh birthday. Her eyes prickled at the memory of her dear father, always encouraging, never judgmental of her or others.

Unlike her mother.

It hadn’t taken Neve long in her youth to recognize certain traits in her mother that made her feel uncomfortable, especially in public. Lois Wilder, who had enjoyed a wealthy lifestyle since she was young, expected and often demanded service from others. Saw herself as above certain people. Neve had become embarrassed more than once by her mother’s arrogant demeanor, even with some of her school friends. Whenever she had brought a friend over, Lois had always asked them about their parents’ jobs, scrutinized their clothing and ultimately tried to manipulate whom Neve should socialize with.

She had even tried to dissuade Neve from pursuing such a common profession as teaching. “Why don’t you accept a position in your father’s company?” She owned the company now and had pressed Neve constantly to get on board. “You could have it made, sweetheart, instead of trying to educate rug rats. And in kindergarten, how much teaching will you actually be doing? They’re still babies. You’ll be spending most of the time on your knees, cleaning up after their accidents, wiping snotty noses, dealing with tantrums. And you’ll be making peanuts compared to what you’d be earning working in your dad’s computer business.”

“Mom, I have no interest in the world of computers. I want to make a difference with kids. Help them to love learning.”

“Well, at least get your masters and doctorate, and then you’ll be able to teach at the university level. That would give you some status.”

“I’m not interested in status, Mom.” Like you...

Neve had had to control herself from being rude, although sometimes she had come very close. By the time she had graduated with her teaching degree, she had been more than ready to leave home. Lois had tried to bribe her with a luxury car and promises of travel if she stayed put.

Neve was having none of it.

Her mother had been hinting about a new manager in one of the departments that she thought might be a good match for Neve. The last thing Neve wanted was a man her mother approved of. A man who had similar qualities as her mother. Rich and snooty. Controlling and manipulative.

No, Neve had started her search and had found herself a bachelor apartment in a section of a house owned by Italian immigrants, and her teacher’s salary had covered her rent and expenses. The “allowance” her mother insisted on sending her, Neve had put in her savings and travel accounts. Lois had insisted that she wanted Neve to have her inheritance—or at least some of it—before she passed away. “That way I can see you enjoying the finer things in life, darling.”

* * *

Neve was immersed in watching a recent YouTube video of Valdoro when her cell phone chimed. She glanced down on the counter where she had left it and felt a swirl of butterflies in her stomach at the sender and the subject.

Lucia Michele. Re: Your Application

She hadn’t expected to hear back the same day, let alone after half an hour. It had to be a form letter, fired off that quickly. Her heart sank. What had she expected, anyway? There had obviously been other applicants with much more experience than she had...

Neve sat down at the kitchen island and opened up the message on her phone. Her heartbeat quickened at the first sentence.

Dear Miss Wilder,

You have been accepted for the position of nanny. I will be sending you another email with information about the child’s situation as well as other pertinent details you should know. The child’s name is Bianca. She is five years old and living with her uncle.

I trust that you will be satisfied with the proposed salary and conditions of employment. After you have read the email, please download the attached contract, sign it and either scan and resend, or take a photograph and email it to this address.

Once this is done I will book your flights and send you an email with itinerary details. On July second you will be met at Lamezia Airport and a driver will bring you to your employer’s residence.

Cordially,

Lucia Michele

Neve blinked, stunned. She had the job! She read the email again. She couldn’t exactly call it a warm letter; it was very matter-of-fact and to the point. There was no commentary on her qualifications, the interview itself or anything else. The employer had obviously been satisfied with her detailed CV and with how she had responded in the interview.

Neve thought about everything she needed to do in the next two weeks. Less than two weeks, actually. Finalize report cards. File. Clean up her classroom. Pack. No, shop first. She needed some light dresses and new shorts. And definitely a couple of new swimsuits. Her favorite one, a fuchsia one-piece, had faded from the chlorine at the local swimming pool. And not that she’d have much time to herself, but the ad did say there would be one day off. Well, she would most certainly be frequenting the nearest beach on that day.

Neve thought about the little girl she would soon meet. Bianca. Such a lovely name. What had occurred in Bianca’s young life to cause her such distress? Why was she living with her uncle? Dozens of questions swarmed in Neve’s mind... She would get the answers soon enough.

She opted for an early night after a quick shower. The school was having their end-of-year play the following day, and she needed to store up her energy for the scheduled activities that included her class of twenty-four kindergarten students. There would be fun and laughter, but Neve was prepared for the possible tears and other behaviors that some of her five-year-olds might display after a few hours in the sun.

Yawning, she changed into a light blue baby doll and snuggled under her covers. She thought about Bianca’s uncle. It was hard to get any kind of impression of him from his assistant’s email. Did he have a wife, and if so, she must be working, or else wouldn’t she be taking care of Bianca? Stop, she told herself. She’d know more when she got Mrs. Michele’s next email.

Neve felt her eyelids getting heavier. What if Bianca’s uncle is single? And the sudden thought: What if that guy from across the street is still in Valdoro? He may very well have moved to work in a bigger city up north, like Rome or Milan, as many of the Southerners tended to do. But if he was still in Valdoro, would she recognize him? He’d be maybe twenty-eight or so, and he’d probably be married with a couple of kids... Or maybe not... The picture of him she had kept in her mind had faded and blurred a little, but even so, she felt her pulse quicken.

And the image of his intense black eyes was the last thing she saw before she drifted into sleep.

* * *

Davide shut down his laptop. He left his study and strode to his bedroom. He opened the shutters and stood for a while, gazing at the twinkling lights dotting the countryside, and the indigo streak beyond—the Ionian Sea. It had been another scorching day; the locals had said it was the hottest summer in history. A smile curved his lips. For as long as he could remember, Valdoro’s residents had said the same thing every summer. And the people in neighboring hamlets and towns were no different.

He almost felt like driving down the mountain to have a swim in the refreshing depths of the sea. But Bianca was sleeping and Lucia had gone home. They had decided to carry out the interview in early afternoon Vancouver time, which was nine hours behind Italian time.

Davide peeled off his shirt and pants and tossed them over a chair. There was hardly a breeze, and the night air had dropped a dozen degrees, but it was still too warm. He didn’t have to worry about his neighbors seeing him, though. Last year he had purchased this house on a steep mountain on the outskirts of Valdoro, a few kilometers away. There were no neighbors to look across from their windows or balconies to his.

He smiled wryly. It wasn’t actually a house; it was an eighteenth-century castle that had been built by the Baron of Valdoro. Fortified castles had been built inland on impossibly high mountains throughout Calabria, and their lords or barons had employed the locals to work the land of their vast properties, or latifundi, as they had been known. The last descendant of the Baron of Valdoro had died childless a hundred or so years earlier, and the land around his castle had long been abandoned. Although the castle was within the boundaries of Valdoro, it had not been maintained; the town simply hadn’t had the financial means to restore it.

Three years ago, when Davide’s first novel had been awarded Italy’s prestigious literary award—the Premio Strega—followed by international sales and a film and miniseries option that made him a multimillionaire in months, he had spent the first year swirling from interview to interview, in between countless literary readings and festivals all over Italy. His face had been on the cover of practically every newspaper and magazine.

He had been one of the youngest recipients of the Strega. His hometown had attracted tourists, which had boosted the economy and profile of Valdoro, pleasing both the town officials and the residents alike. Davide was given the ceremonial key to Valdoro, and he had celebrated with his uncle and neighbors in a day of festivities culminating in a spectacular show of fireworks.

He still couldn’t believe that the words he had penned about a family during the unification of Italy in 1861 had garnered such fanfare. It had been compared in scope to Il Gattopardo, the famous novel written by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa. Davide had studied The Leopard in high school, had been riveted by its rich complexity, propelling him to pursue further studies in history and literature.

He had made a promise to himself the summer Neve Wilder had visited Valdoro with her mother. And that was to let Neve’s harsh words on the note she sent him burn into his soul until he had accomplished one goal, and that was to elevate himself to the point where she, or anybody else, could not look down on him.

That meant continuing to further his education and to make something of himself. His uncle had lived very humbly as a priest, and had stretched himself to the limit to provide for him. Davide had been very appreciative, but he had realized that he had to push himself to go beyond his or his uncle’s normal expectations.

In between his studies and work on the farm, Davide had taken to writing. Late at night and before dawn, he had let his knowledge of history, his culture and his imagination combine and transform into the fictional story of the daughter of a Bourbon lord, who had become captivated with the ideals of General Giuseppe Garibaldi in his quest to oust the Spanish Bourbon regime and unify the South with the rest of Italy. The girl had fallen in love with one of Garibaldi’s soldiers during the revolution and successful ousting of the Bourbons, and had abandoned her family and relinquished her status to elope with him in the mysterious Aspromonte mountain range in Calabria.

Writing this story had been bittersweet, and his hand had sometimes trembled with emotion as he created the scenes between the two lovers. His protagonist, Serena, had turned out to be an Italian version of Neve, dark-haired but with the same fair skin and blue-green eyes that were not often seen in the South.

Davide had made Serena everything he had fantasized about Neve before she had crushed his illusions...and Vittorio was the name he had called the man who had captured her heart.

Davide gave a harsh laugh. What a fool he had been eight years ago. A romantic fool.

After first catching sight of Neve on that balcony, he had used every excuse possible to walk by. He had had asked his friend Agostino, whose mother had been working as a housekeeper at the Villa Morgana, to keep him informed of any excursions Neve’s family was planning, and Davide would innocently show up around that time. Just to catch sight of Neve.

When he had had the good fortune of first spotting her on the balcony, he had dared to hold his gaze for longer than a casual glance. And to his delight, after gazing away shyly, she had returned it. But then, with each subsequent walk-by, she had attempted a quirky smile, her face flushing like a ripe peach.

After a couple of days Davide had made the bold move of crossing the road to walk on the same side of the villa on his way home from working on the farm. And then later, once he had showered and changed, he had returned. The local bakery was just down the street from the villa, and this had become his excuse to walk by every day.

Zio Francesco had commented about Davide’s sudden sweet tooth, for Davide was bringing home a bag of brioche filled with custard one day, or a few marzipan fruit cookies or hazelnut biscotti the next day. Davide couldn’t very well reveal the real reason for his purchases to his uncle; he had shared his feelings only with Agostino, who had revealed the girl’s name to him.

When Agostino had told him one evening that Neve’s mother was planning an outing to the sea, Davide’s stomach had churned with anticipation. He would go, too! He had convinced Agostino to join him, for it would have looked odd for him to show up alone on the beach used by the Valdoro locals. They had set out on Agostino’s Vespa and had spent the morning alternately sunning and swimming, with Davide trying to keep his observations of Neve as unnoticeable as possible.

He and Agostino had laid out their beach towels a short distance from Neve and her mother, who had rented an umbrella and had brought a picnic basket. Davide’s heart had started to pound when Neve, still unaware of his presence, had removed her beach wrap and started to apply sunscreen to her slender arms and legs. She was wearing a blue two-piece swimsuit with pink polka dots. He had smiled; she had had a thing for polka dots, obviously, and they had suited her something crazy.

He had felt the sun and the inner heat suddenly get to him, and slapping Agostino on the arm, he had challenged him to a race out to the third marker in the water, indicating one hundred meters.

“Race you there and back,” he had urged. “I’m burning up.”

They had splashed their way back to shore, with Davide winning by three meters. Laughing, they had dried off and collapsed on their beach towels. That was when Davide had looked across and realized Neve was watching him. Her mother had been busy laying out the picnic food. Had Neve seen the whole race? Self-consciously, he had given her a nod and after checking to make sure her mother was still occupied, he had waved.

She had waved back and seemed self-conscious herself, looking around as if to see if anyone had noticed her wave to Davide. Tossing her hair back, she had tiptoed quickly on the hot beach sand and had ventured a little way into the water before immersing herself completely in a graceful dive.

It had all happened in slow motion. The sights and sounds around Davide had blurred, and all he had been conscious of was Neve, her lithe body ascending from her dive with the sun reflected in every glistening drop on her skin. And when she had shaken her head and sent a rainbow spray around her, his breath had caught in his throat, and he had known in the deepest reaches of his soul that he had fallen in love with this bewitching sea nymph. An impossible love that could never be returned.

The realization had overwhelmed him. How was he going to deal with this? Agostino had told him earlier that Neve’s visit to Valdoro would end in a couple of days, and then she and her mother would be returning to Canada. He had felt a series of unbearable twinges in his heart from wanting Neve but knowing his desire could not be reciprocated. Fate wouldn’t allow it. Davide had immediately felt deflated, already anticipating the impending loss... Neve would be gone tomorrow, and he would be left with this torturous flame in his chest.

He had to meet her.

The thought had made his breath falter and his heart thump erratically. If he couldn’t have anything else with Neve, at the very least he had wanted a few moments with her. A moment, even. To tell her how he felt, and to hear her response. His gut had told him that she had felt something, too... He had seen it in her eyes.

It had been too much to hope that Neve had fallen in love with him, as well, but Davide had been prepared to accept that. Or at least, he thought he had been. Some primeval instinct had been telling him that he just had to let her know, even if it was the last time he saw her lovely face.

He had stolen a last glance in Neve’s direction. She had had her back to him as she and her mother enjoyed their picnic lunch. Unable to bear staying at the beach any longer, he had given Agostino a nudge and they had shaken off their beach towels and headed back to Valdoro. While cooling off with a gelato at a bar near the town square, Davide had devised a plan to meet with Neve. He would write Neve a note, and Agostino would make an excuse to show up at the villa with the pretense of talking to his mother and figure out a way to deliver it personally to Neve.

With any luck, Neve would agree to meet him at the bakery down the street, where they could sit down and he could treat her to a cappuccino and a pastry while divulging his feelings to her. It would be a perfectly respectable meeting place that would look like a casual encounter to anyone who might be frequenting the shop.

* * *

Staring across to the twinkling indigo sky, Davide felt a sharp twinge as he recalled how stupidly love-struck he had been, waxing poetic in a note that now seemed ridiculous with his naive and laughable choice of words.

Signorina Neve,

Only our eyes have met, and forgive me for being bold, but you have pierced my heart with your beauty. I feel that it is in our destiny to meet. With all my respect, I wish to see you before you depart for Canada. I only ask for a few moments of your time so I can express what is in my soul. My intentions are honorable...

If you can grant me this gift, I will be forever indebted. I will be at Michelina’s Bakery after it reopens later this afternoon.

D.

Davide felt a tingle along his nerve endings as he thought about his imminent reunion with the girl who had so thoroughly put him in his “place” with her harsh reply. How would he react? How would she? His jaw clenched. Maybe he shouldn’t have hired Neve Wilder so quickly. Maybe she had every right to know who her boss was before agreeing to the job.

But she wouldn’t have agreed to the job if she had known it was you...

Davide felt a jolt. His inner voice was right. But somewhere deep inside the pain that was still trapped in his heart, was the pulsing desire to see Neve again. And keeping his identity from her—at least until she arrived—was the only way he could make that happen.