Falling for Italy

by De Ross, Melinda

  He turned it over, discovering a small, partially faded inscription on the back. He read aloud.

  “Lasciate ogni speranza—”

  “—voi ch'entrate,” Sonia finished in a whisper. “Abandon all hope, ye who enter. Dante’s Inferno.”

  They stared at one another, and then they both looked at the man watching them.

  “They say this belonged to the great Dante Alighieri,” he said. “It was his companion when he was sent into exile, estranged from his beloved Firenze. They also say it has magical powers. Few people know about the existence of this amulet. But those who know are looking for it. They believe in its history and its powers. And people with strong beliefs can be very dangerous. It must not get into the wrong hands. Or so they say,” he finished.

  “They say a lot,” replied Giovanni, letting the amulet drop back into Sonia’s hand, not a little irritated over the man’s enigmatic air. “You talk in riddles, signore. Do you have documentation on this piece?”

  The old Italian watched him, a thoughtful smile lingering on his face.

  “No, there is no documentation. Just stories. My dear,” he addressed Sonia, “take it, even if you wear it as a simple silver pendant. It really suits you.”

  “I will take it, sir,” she said, letting it fall on her chest. “No matter what its history is, it’s marvelous. How much is it?” she asked, reaching into her bag for her wallet, but the man stopped her with a gesture.

  “This amulet is priceless in terms of money. It belongs to you.”

  She gaped at him for a moment.

  “But…I can’t accept such an expensive present. Please, sir,” she protested.

  “It’s not a present, cara signorina. It belongs to you,” he repeated.

  Sonia looked at Giovanni confused, but he only shrugged, as though saying, How the hell should I know what he’s talking about?

  At a loss, he decided it would have been pointless and ungracious to argue. The whole demeanor of this odd character had a firm finality about it. So what if he wanted to give Sonia an extremely expensive piece of jewelry? They would find a way to pay him back, indirectly. At the moment, he was suddenly tired and wanted just to get home. He stretched his hand to the old Italian and the latter grasped it into his.

  “Thank you, signore. Your kindness won’t be forgotten. This is a beautiful gift for my fiancée.”

  “When I said yours, I meant the amulet belongs to both of you. Take good care of it.”

  “We will,” said Sonia, squeezing his hand. “Thank you so much. Grazzie, signore,” she added in her accented Italian.

  They took their bags and headed out, with a surreal feeling hovering between them as they walked on the now dark street. They both glanced back at the shop, and then rushed away in darkness, their breaths forming clouds in the chilly night air.

  Sonia was the first to break the silence, punctuated only by the faint staccato sounds of their hurried steps.

  “What the hell was that about?”

  “Beats me. Half the time I had no clue what he was talking about.”

  “If I didn’t have this hanging around my neck, I’d swear it had all been a dream. I mean, who gives this kind of expensive gift to a total stranger?”

  “He said it wasn’t a gift,” he reminded her, taking a turn to where they’d left the car.

  “Yeah, right. It belongs to us. I think he was crazy.”

  “Could be. In any case, you got yourself a fine piece of jewelry, amore. We’ll find a way to pay him back somehow. Maybe buy something for his shop.”

  “Now that’s a great idea,” she said brightly. “He looked so…modest. Not exactly poor, but I doubt he reeks of money. We should really buy him something expensive, something he could sell and recover his money for this pendant.”

  “I doubt he considers that a loss. But we’ll buy something from Rome.”

  She stopped dead, right in the middle of the street.

  “Rome? Why and when are we going to Rome?”

  He gave her a half smile, then grabbed her arm and pulled her along.

  “We’re going to Rome as soon as possible, for two reasons. One is that I promised Gerard I’m going to do something about helping him patent those treatments of his. You know, for cancer. And the second reason is that I want you to meet my mother. You’ll meet my father at our wedding, but my mother will want to meet you as soon as I tell her about you.”

  The old panic surfaced, mirrored on her face. He nearly laughed. By now they had reached the parking lot and he unlocked the car’s trunk. Taking the bags from her cold fingers, he started putting them in the trunk.

  “Your mother? Um, okay, sure. I can do that. You haven’t told her about me yet, have you?” she asked with renewed hope.

  “No, but I will phone her tomorrow and tell her. Now get your panicked ass in the car. I want to get home and eat some hot soup.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Buongiorno, signorina,” Lucia greeted Sonia the next morning, when she walked drowsily into the kitchen. She’d been so tired she didn’t even remember falling asleep. She just had a vague recollection of Giovanni undressing her at one point, after which she’d slept comatose-like.

  “Buongiorno, Lucia,” she replied a little awkwardly, sitting at the kitchen table. “Thank you.” She sighed gratefully when the housekeeper put a mug of steaming coffee in front of her.

  Lucia was a mignon woman in her forties, with dark hair pulled back in a bun and dark eyes framed by long eyelashes. She wore a green sweater and black slacks that fit her slender figure.

  “You’re welcome, signorina Sonia. How did you sleep?” she asked in her heavily accented English, as she took out several things from the fridge and set to prepare something to eat for the day.

  “Like a rock,” said Sonia, taking another scalding sip from her coffee. “Lucia, how do you say mug in Italian?”

  “Coppa.”

  “Copa… Sounds a bit like cup. How about plate?”

  “Piatto,” the woman replied patiently, going about her business.

  “Hey, this too resembles the word in English! I could learn this. It’s not as hard as I thought,” she exclaimed, grinning at Lucia, who smiled back indulgently.

  “Of course you can learn. Italian is a beautiful language.”

  Sonia grilled her the entire morning. After taking a shower, Giovanni had gone into his office upstairs, saying he had some calls to make. He had to catch up with business and the things he’d missed during his vacation. Sonia understood and did her best to occupy herself, watching Lucia cook, as the housekeeper gave her Italian lessons.

  During all this time, Guccio had been practically glued to her. She was mad about the dog, just now realizing what the simple joy of having a pet meant. She kept marveling at how smart he was, especially when he managed to eat a sausage from her plate without leaving a clue, while she’d turned her back for a moment. She only noticed the missing sausage because it had been the last one and she didn’t think Lucia had snatched it. However, she couldn’t bring herself to even think of punishing Guccio. After all, he probably thought the sausage had been put there especially for him.

  When she felt she couldn’t remember another word in Italian, she went to the den to watch a movie rerun. Giovanni had promised they would go out later, so she settled on the couch with Guccio to wait for him. She usually hated inactivity, but now and again it felt like an exquisite treat.

  * * * *

  “Hello, Mamma,” Giovanni said into the receiver. “How are you?”

  “Well, you finally thought of calling your poor mother.” Giovanna’s elegant voice came in her perfect aristocratic Italian. “I’m fine, just waiting for my manicurist. How are you, darling? How’s Linda? How was the wedding? I’m so sorry Fabri and I couldn’t attend.”

  Fabrizzio Angeli—her new and younger husband—had obligations as a prosperous businessman. They were in Corsica when Linda and Gerard’s wedding had been scheduled, and he knew how much
his mother regretted not being there for her daughter.

  Still, business was business. She had to make some sacrifices for Fabrizzio to be able to keep her in luxury and make money at the fast pace she was spending it.

  He smiled to himself.

  “I’m fine. Linda and Gerard are doing great too. Now they’re on their honeymoon in Paris. The wedding was beautiful. They’ll send you pictures and videos when they get back. As for me, I’m doing great. I…got engaged,” he added, hearing the almost imperceptive emotion in his own voice.

  For ten whole seconds there was only silence.

  “Engaged?” Giovanna repeated, her cultured voice betraying nothing of what she thought. “With whom? When?”

  He cleared his throat.

  “Her name is Sonia Galsworthy. She’s English. I met her in London a couple of weeks ago. She’s a target shooting trainer.”

  His mother’s intake of breath was audible and he knew this time he’d really shocked her.

  “An Englishwoman you just met? A target shooting trainer? Giovanni, what is this nonsense?”

  “It’s not nonsense. I fell in love, for the first time in my life. I think you’ll understand why when you meet her. We want to come to Rome in the next day or so, just for a brief visit, so we can be back home for Christmas.”

  “I see. I must admit, my son, this is an unprecedented situation. You made me curious about this girl,” Giovanna said thoughtfully. “I…don’t know what to say, except that I hope you’re sure—”

  “I am.”

  “And that she will make you happy.”

  “She already does,” he told her with all the conviction he felt. “You’re a good judge of character, Mom. You’ll tell me what you think about her when you meet her. Maybe tomorrow or the next day we’ll be there. How’s Fabrizzio?”

  “He’s fine,” she replied airily. “Busy making loads of money. I look forward to seeing you, and Sonia. I miss you.”

  “I miss you too. See you soon.”

  He put down the phone after holding it for a moment, meditatively chewing on his lower lip, then went downstairs.

  He found Sonia and Guccio tangled on the sofa in the den. Her eyes lighted when she saw him. Guccio lifted his head to be scratched, then licked his hand in greeting.

  “You finally have time for us now?” she asked pouting a bit—a gesture he found sweetly endearing. “Come here,” she ordered. Pushing the dog aside to make room for him, she pulled him down on the sofa. Quick as lightning, she straddled him, trapping him under her as she assaulted his lips with a hot kiss. He tightened his grip on her waist, kissing her back with the passion she always managed to awake in him just by simple touch.

  He kissed her neck, thriving when he heard small sounds purring in her chest. She bit the lobe of his ear lightly, maddeningly, before whispering, “Lucia is in the kitchen, baby. We have to play nicely.”

  A moment later, a suppressed gasp escaped her lips when his hands strolled down her breasts, then over her ass, squeezing tenderly.

  “Define nicely.”

  “Well, I was thinking we could go upstairs quietly, lock the bedroom door, and then—”

  “Signore, mi avete chiamato?” Paolo’s soft voice came from the direction of the kitchen.

  They both jumped apart, biting their lips, feeling like reckless teenagers. He set her on the couch, making her a quick promise.

  “We’ll finish this later, amore.” Then he shouted to Lucia’s husband, “I’m under the stairs, Paolo! Come over here.”

  The gardener approached with his usual demure walk. He was a quiet man in his middle forties, with brown-graying hair and kind brown eyes. He was modest and shy, but extremely hardworking, being skilled at nearly everything that needed to be done in a house.

  “Good morning, signore, signorina,” he said in his awkward English. Giovanni had asked both he and Lucia to speak English in Sonia’s presence, until she learned their language enough to understand the basics.

  “Good morning, Paolo,” he replied, although it was nearly lunchtime. “I have a favor to ask. Would you go and buy us a Christmas tree? A big, tall one, with lots of branches,” he added, grinning at Sonia, who smiled like a child, nodding vigorously.

  “Of course, signore. Shall I buy one in a pot? They last longer. I can even plant it in the garden after the holidays.”

  “That’s a marvelous idea!” Sonia exclaimed joyfully. “Do we have any Christmas decorations, baby?”

  “No, we don’t, but we can buy some.”

  “Great! Then we have a plan. Let’s get dressed. Thank you, Paolo,” she told the gardener, then fled upstairs. Guccio ran after her, tongue waving, thinking this was a chasing game devised precisely for his amusement.

  “Here’s some money, Paolo,” said Giovanni, digging into his pocket for bills. “Keep the rest. Buy something nice for you and your wife. Thanks.”

  The man took the money hesitantly, saying gratefully, “Grazzie, signore. It’s very kind of you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  After Paolo left, Giovanni headed upstairs to the bedroom, where Sonia was already dressed in tight jeans and a red cashmere sweater. She was just applying some makeup in front of the vanity mirror.

  He bent to kiss the top of her head.

  “I talked with my mother earlier,” he told her, as he discarded his sweats and pulled on a pair of black jeans. “She’s anxious to meet you. What do you say we drive to Rome tomorrow?”

  She gaped at him, looking like she could have swallowed the lipstick she still held in her motionless hand.

  “Drive? To Rome?”

  “Yeah. It’s less than three hundred kilometers to Rome. We can be there in three hours or so. We could fly,” he added as an afterthought, while he was lacing his boots. “But it’s more comfortable having a car to drive around the city.”

  She plowed a hand through her hair, and then planted her elbows on the vanity, supporting her chin in her hands.

  “I guess we could do that. What did your mom say about us? About me?”

  He gave her a one-cornered smile.

  “She was shocked. First, when I told her I’m in love and engaged to a wonderful woman. Second, when I told her you’re a target shooter.”

  She gave him a reproachful look.

  “Couldn’t you have waited to tell her everything? I bet she’s horrified her high-class, refined son is marrying a modern Xena. She probably thinks I’m a crude, unpolished bitch that carries a knife in her boot and an Uzi in her satchel,” she half-muttered.

  He burst into laughter and walked toward her, as she rummaged through her drawers. She stopped when she came across the wooden box that sheltered the ruby amulet. She took it out and studied it carefully.

  Giovanni placed his hands on her shoulders.

  “It’s magnificent, isn’t it? The old antiquarian was right. It does suit you. Cara, don’t worry about my mother. She will love you because I love you. And because you make me happy. That’s all that matters to her,” he added. Bending slightly, he took the amulet from her hand. In the bright daylight, the perfectly cut edges of the ruby reflected, absorbed and transformed the sun’s rays in a spectacular way. He was a fine connoisseur when it came to jewelry, and his intuition told him this was a truly unique piece of art.

  He fastened the chain around Sonia’s neck. The polished silver and shining red stone matched her red sweater, giving her a distinguished elegance.

  She sighed, toying with the heavy pendant, then let it drop. It settled a bit lower than her sternum. She looked up at his reflection in the mirror.

  “Do you really think she’s gonna like me?”

  “I have absolutely no doubt.”

  “Well then, okay… We’ll drive to Rome tomorrow.”

  * * * *

  It was snowing in Rome. During the three-hour drive, the panorama had started looking coated with snow the second half of their journey. The roads were slick and traffic was quite heavy, but they mad
e the trip in the estimated time.

  Now Sonia was watching the rushing landscapes through the windshield sprinkled with fast-falling snowflakes. Somehow, the city of Rome managed to preserve its history and combine it harmoniously with all the luxury of modern times.

  “I think I’d recognize an Italian city anywhere in the world. There’s something special about the architecture, the statues, the art. The air itself screams Italian to me,” she told Giovanni, who was driving carefully on crowded, one-way streets, with their narrow sidewalks shadowed by buildings that seemed to be piled one on top of the other.

  He smiled and glanced at her.

  “Well, they do say Italy’s the most romantic place in the world, cara. The air and the décor contribute to the romantic atmosphere. There are also a lot of dangerous and nasty places in Italy—as in every country. But I don’t plan to take you there.”

  “Whew! That’s a relief,” she joked. “We’ll stop first at the hotel?”

  “Yes. I called again this morning to confirm our coming. In fact, we’re nearly there.”

  When Giovanni had told her he’d reserved a suite at the Sontuoso—one of the best hotels in Rome—she’d expected a classy skyscraper, certainly something exuding enough luxury to deserve its five stars.

  However, her expectations had once again been surpassed. The hotel area resembled a fortress of luxury. Gardens, an Olympic-sized pool, tennis courts, an enormous parking lot, a gym and a restaurant of epical proportions could hardly be contained in the simple definition of a hotel. The place was a corner of paradise. Even in winter, the evergreens sprinkled with snow created a fairy-like décor.

  When they entered the lobby, Sonia felt like a pauper entering a sumptuous palace, in her comfortable jeans and thick red jacket. Beside her, Giovanni walked like a prince, unmindful of his casual attire, as simple as hers except for the fact he wore a black jacket.

  A bellman rushed to get their small bags and welcomed them in Italian. She sighed inwardly, full of love and admiration for her lover. No matter if he wore a three thousand pounds suit or jeans and a sweater, he breathed class through every pore. Such a refined man would never go unnoticed.