Falling for Italy

by De Ross, Melinda

  Sonia smiled widely, utterly delighted by her mother-in-law’s wits and character.

  “Giovanni had many women too,” Giovanna went on, and the smile on Sonia’s lips faltered, replaced by that sharp twinge in her heart whenever she thought about her fiancé’s ex-lovers. She turned her gaze away, but Giovanna took her hand into hers.

  “He dated many women, but he didn’t love any one of them, until you. You know you’re not the first, but you will be the last. I know that.”

  Sonia stared long into her dark eyes and saw the truth and kindness in them. She squeezed Giovanna’s hand gently.

  “I know. Thank you for making me feel welcome. I’m glad to be part of this family…Mamma,” she added, making a smile bloom on Giovanna’s beautiful face.

  “Figlia mia…I want you to have this,” she said and opened the little box, revealing a silver broche. It was shaped like a leaf, with tiny lines finely carved around a ruby the size of Sonia’s thumbnail. “It was my mother’s, and now it’s yours—the wife of my first born.”

  Sonia didn’t know what to say. She touched the broche tentatively with a single finger, trailing the dentate edges.

  “Oh, this is… Thank you, Giovanna, but…isn’t this supposed to go to Linda?”

  “No. Linda has my mother’s pearls. This is yours. So take it and don’t fuss about it, yes?” she replied in a brisk tone, meant to stave off the sentimentality threatening to turn the moment into a weepy one.

  Sonia took the box and smiled at Giovanna, swallowing the knot of emotion in her own throat.

  “Okay. Thanks. You were right—this will be a killer with the pendant.”

  * * * *

  “So, how did you like Mom and Fabri?” Giovanni asked her as they drove on the sleet-covered streets. They’d decided to take time for a brief shopping session before darkness fell, since it was too late for sightseeing.

  “I liked them very much. Your mother gave me your grandmother’s ruby broche,” she replied, patting her bag.

  “Well, since you take such good care of the family jewels,” he said in an insinuating tone and grinned at her slyly.

  “Oh, you mean these?” she asked innocently and slid a hand between his thighs, stroking gently.

  “Dio, cara, I’m driving. Do you want to get us killed?” he asked on a strangled choke when her caresses became bolder.

  “At least you’ll die a happy death,” she philosophized, but withdrew her hand, chuckling. “Maybe I should wait until we’re safely in our suite. Where are we going anyway?”

  “I thought I’ll take you to the shopping district near Piazza di Spagna. That’s a paradise of fashion and on the way you have the chance to see some of the city.”

  “I love it so far, and I know there’s so much to see,” she said, trying to encompass with her gaze the rushing by panorama. “I hope we’ll come again next year, stay longer. Let me act like a genuine tourist. Oh, that reminds me—your mother and I thought we should get married on Valentine’s Day.”

  He choked out a laugh.

  “You and my mother are getting married?”

  “No, clown!” She poked him in the ribs. “You know what I mean. What do you think? Shall we marry on Valentine’s Day?”

  He looked at her seriously.

  “Cara, I’d marry you right this moment. The date doesn’t matter to me, just the result. But I want us to have a big wedding. I want to show the world what a treasure I have, and I want you to feel like the princess you are.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder, sighing, and a smile blossomed on her lips.

  “I already feel like one, baby.”

  He stroked her cheek with one hand, and then put it back on the steering wheel.

  “Do you think we have time to organize everything in less than two months?”

  “I have no idea. I know absolutely nothing about weddings, except what I saw at Linda and Gerard’s wedding.”

  “Don’t worry. Mamma will help. She can make miracles happen when it comes to such events. We’re here,” he announced, looking for a place to park.

  He knew the area reasonably well and didn’t think they would manage to cover all the shops and boutiques before closing time. As always, a cosmopolitan sea of people swarmed to and fro—men and women of all ages and races, seized by an acute shopping fever, loaded with bags and packs.

  Sonia clung tightly to his arm, her rounded eyes darting right and left, as though not knowing where to go in first. Prada, Gucci, Dolce&Gabbana, Versace, Armani—all gathered to one spot in the capital of sin and luxury.

  He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, grinning.

  “Let’s start on this side, princess,” he suggested, hustling her into a Zara shop.

  At first she was reluctant, but after her initial hesitation she started trying on everything that appealed to her. He figured he had spent hours in front of dozens of dressing rooms, but it was worth it. The sight of her in a black tight suit or an engine red negligee with matching lace stockings had his blood boiling by the time they’d decided to put an end to the shopping spree for the day.

  He bought a single suit—at her insistence—and a baby-blue shirt. When they visited Tiffany’s so she could try on a pair of earrings she’d seen through the window, he spotted a watch that caught his attention. It was simple, masculine, with gold Roman figures. As Sonia tried on the diamond studs, he asked the clerk to show him the watch. It fit great around his wrist and had just the perfect weight. It was ridiculously expensive, but since he had a weakness for quality and for watches, he decided to buy it.

  “It’s…stupendous,” Sonia exclaimed in a stage whisper when she joined him, glancing discretely at the price tag.

  “Yeah. I like it,” he decided. “The earrings are beautiful. Do you want them?” he asked and reached for his wallet, studying the delicate studs decorating her soft earlobes.

  “I’ve bought jewelry to last me until I’m old,” she said chagrined, “but I think I’ll take these too. They’re so…classy,” she decided after pursing her lips in search of a suited term. Then she frowned at him.

  “How come you don’t wear any jewelry?”

  “I’m more of the concept jewelry is for women,” he replied, giving the clerk his credit card and their purchases. “The only accessory I fancy on a man is a good watch.”

  He thanked the starry-eyed girl who looked at him with round eyes and at Sonia with what he suspected was envy. Then he guided his lover to the general direction of the exit, carrying their bags in one hand.

  Sonia had her own share of bags, which she insisted on carrying herself. He’d let her only because it was mostly jewelry and other light paraphernalia. Her face shone with joy, making his heart tighten in his chest. He was happy because he could make her happy, even just by buying her fine, expensive things. He linked his fingers with hers and was about to raise her hand to his lips, when he spotted a man coming toward them.

  Tony Barella appeared as fit and prosperous as when Giovanni had seen him last. Though he was forty-one, he didn’t look it. His black hair didn’t sprout a single gray hair and no age lines crossed his clean-shaven face. He wore an impeccable dark gray suit and a complaisant smile. Giovanni couldn’t stand the sight of him.

  “Well, I’ll be damned! Isn’t this a small country? Hello, Giovanni,” Tony said in Italian, his low, rusty voice sounding like a snake’s hiss.

  “Tony,” Giovanni acknowledged him only because the man was standing in their path.

  “Did you come to Rome to visit Giovanna? How is she?” Tony asked, pretending not to notice the animosity darted toward him. His gaze moved to Sonia, sliding over her indolently, like the sleazy tongue of a particularly nasty reptile. When Giovanni saw his pupils dilate for a split second with a kind of sordid interest, he felt an immediate urge to break his neck.

  “She’s fine,” he replied shortly and started to go around the other man. But Tony couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut.

  “And
how is Linda? I heard she’s married that loser of a doctor. How disappointing,” he went on in a false pitying tone. “But then, it’s not surprising.”

  Giovanni saw red and his eyes went to slits of cold calculated fury. He felt the barely suppressed rage rushing dangerously close to the surface. His jaw was hard when he said through his teeth, “Don’t you dare speak my sister’s name, bastardo. You’re not worthy of that.”

  He took a step toward Tony, but felt Sonia’s restraining hand digging into his biceps. She spoke quickly to him in a firm whisper.

  “Giovanni, I have no idea who this guy is and what’s going on, but please let’s go. Don’t create a scene, please. Let’s just go.”

  For the first time since he’d met her, she sounded frightened and that brought him immediately to his senses. He just now realized she hadn’t understood the exchange in Italian between him and Tony, but the fear and uneasiness in her voice got to him.

  He raised his index finger, pointing it at the other man.

  “We’ll finish this another time, Barella. I have better things to do. Oh, by the way, I heard you bled like a pig when Gerard broke your nose. I truly hope I’ll get the chance to break your neck one day.”

  With that, he turned around, practically dragging Sonia after him, but squeezed her hand in reassurance. Tony’s words came just loud enough to reach his ears.

  “You can be sure we will finish this, Coriola. You can bet on that.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sonia pried one puffy eye open, as the other one was buried into the pillow. The room was dark, thanks to the heavy, thick drapes. She would have probably fallen asleep again, but when she reached to Giovanni’s side of the bed, she found it empty. She raised her head to listen and heard the monotonous sound of the shower.

  She stretched and kicked the sheet aside. Her gloriously naked image watched her from the ceiling mirror. She squinted at the clock on the nightstand, not believing it was past nine in the morning. She hadn’t slept this late in a long while. But considering the long day they’d had, it was only natural, she thought.

  First, the pleasant—if a bit odd—meeting with Giovanni’s family. Her family now, she reminded herself, smiling fondly.

  Then, the feet-killing shopping spree, from which they’d returned loaded with obscenely expensive samples of luxury and pampering.

  It would have been a perfect day, except for their meeting with that Tony character. For a moment, her blood had run cold when she’d seen the murderous gleam in Giovanni’s eyes. She realized now she only had contact with the sweet, good part of him. But there was also a dark side to him, and it was terrifying. No wonder the other guy had taken a step back, she had sensed his fear.

  After she’d managed to drag Giovanni away, she pried information about the Italian guy out of him. He’d told her his name was Tony Barella and he was Linda’s ex-husband. Since she hadn’t understood more than a few words, he’d related to her the short exchange that had pissed him off so badly. She could understand why Giovanni had reacted like that, and had changed the subject, to take his mind off the episode.

  Thank God they were going home the next day. There wouldn’t be another chance to run into Barella again. She didn’t think she could restrain Giovanni a second time from breaking the guy’s neck—and with good cause. He’d told her the man was a bully who’d made his sister unhappy and uneasy. He was supposedly a businessman, dealing with wines. But Linda had told her brother she’d always suspected Tony of having other dealings as well, about which she didn’t know anything concrete.

  Just then, Giovanni got out of the bath and she dismissed Tony Barella from her mind. Instead, she admired her fiancé’s sexy, damp body.

  “You don’t have an ounce of shame, do you? Strolling around naked like that,” she admonished him teasingly. “What if a maid or a room service girl was here?”

  He stopped next to the bed, smoothing his wet hair and gave her a one-sided grin.

  “I guess they’d get an eye full.”

  “An eye full of my fist. And I’d have your ass for that, signore Coriola,” she threatened. “That exquisite ass which now belongs to me.”

  “Of course it does, cara,” he said and stretched on top of her, kissing the lobe of her ear. He smelled of soap and aftershave, his skin smooth and soft rubbing against hers. “But what if a room service guy came in here and saw you like this?” he asked, running his hands down her nakedness. “What do you think I’d do to you?”

  “Hmm…I think…”

  His phone rang, making her heart lurch.

  “Who the hell is that?” She groaned, as he stretched out a hand to grab the phone and looked at the display.

  “It’s Luigi. I have to take this, cara. Pronto, Luigi. Posso parlare con la direttrice allora? Ebbene, grazzie amico. Sto aspettando.”

  He wanted to talk to a manager of sorts. She listened as the conversation stretched on for a few minutes. Since his tone was now all business, she rolled off the bed and headed to the bath.

  She pinned her hair up not to get it wet, then showered quickly. When she emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, Giovanni was already dressed in dark slacks and a beige shirt. He paused, fixing his gaze on her in what seemed to be surprise.

  “What? Why are you staring?” she asked puzzled.

  “I’ve never seen you with your hair up. You look beautiful like this,” he said after a moment, his eyes still locked on her.

  Baffled and a little embarrassed, she started to dry off.

  “Thanks. It’s too short now to wear it like this. I only pin it up when I don’t want to get it wet.”

  “You should do it more often.”

  “I will, if you like it,” she replied, going to the armoire. “Who was that on the phone?”

  “Oh, the manager from the clinic I finance. I told you, I want to help Gerard develop those treatments of his. I want to go talk with the director of the Institute for Cancer Research, here in Rome. So I asked signore Fontanella— the clinic manager—to phone and put in a good word for me. He says the director, signore Marco, has accepted to meet with me today.”

  “Really? That’s wonderful,” she exclaimed, as she pulled on the Armani jeans she’d bought the day before and a white sweater. “Shall I wait for you here?” she went on, adding the diamond cuff earrings and her ruby amulet.

  “No, I don’t think I will be long. I don’t want you cooped up in here all day,” he said, coming behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “You’ll go with me and I’ll leave you in a shopping area, or in a trattoria.”

  “No more shopping, I beg you. My feet can’t take any more. I’d rather just wait in the car, listen to music and watch people go by as I laze on the seat.”

  “Whatever you like, baby. Are you sure you want to sit in the car instead of doing something else? Some sightseeing?”

  “I’m sure. I need some rest. Maybe later, after you finish, we can drive around for a while.”

  * * * *

  He was gone nearly an hour, but she wasn’t bored. He’d parked the car on the side of a crowded street. Sonia passed the time by listening to the radio and watching the waves of pedestrians walking—some of them hurrying, others strolling, some single, others with partners. She liked to watch the women and how they were dressed. Fashion was one of her few weaknesses. It was still amazing to her what Giovanni could afford and insisted on buying her. Though her financial sense was outraged at the sums he spent on her clothes and jewelry, she knew he was pleased to buy her things, so she indulged both herself and him.

  She saw him descend the wide stone steps of the institute, moving quickly and efficiently. God, he was sexy! Judging by his expression, the meeting had gone well. She admired him for trying so hard to help his brother-in-law, for all the charity works he did. Even though he didn’t have time to get involved too much, he donated considerable sums to several clinics and other institutions.

  “How did it go?” she asked anxiousl
y, even before he had time to get into the car.

  He smiled, taking her chin between his fingers and kissing her noisily.

  “It went perfect! I told signore Marco the whole story and he was so impressed he wanted to speak with Gerard immediately. I explained he and my sister are still on their honeymoon. But when they get back, I am to let him know right away that Marco wants to see him.”

  “So he has to come here, in Rome, at the Istituto di…research?” she asked, frustrated for not knowing the proper word, and even more annoyed when Giovanni’s chest rumbled with laughter.

  “Ah, amore, you are so cute! Istituto di Ricerca per Cancro. Yes, he’ll have to come here. I related to Marco all the problems Gerard has encountered in England. He was truly surprised and not a little suspicious. He told me that, in his opinion, none of the reasons invoked for all those delays were valid. Someone is deliberately trying to impede Gerard to patent his treatment. But now he’ll be on my turf,” he emphasized, eyes narrowing in determination. “Let’s see someone daring to try and sabotage him here.”

  The warmth and calm returning to his eyes, he started the car and said, “Now, let’s play tourist.”

  Sonia was fascinated by the streets of Rome—one of the oldest and most beautiful cities in the world, with its architecture and art molded by history and age.

  They drove when they could, walked even more, forgetting yesterday’s fatigue as they admired piazzas, museums, statues, monuments and basilicas.

  Giovanni seemed delighted by her enthusiasm and simple love for art—something she discovered they shared. They were now heading to the Colosseo, which she specifically wanted to see ever since she’d been a child and had admired in pictures at school.

  The amphitheater was a breathtaking sight, even from afar. Sonia thought it made an apocalyptic vision against the cloudy sky, with a beauty that wrenched the heart, just as pieces of it had been wrenched by time and nature.