“His daughter is just the same,” said Sebastian, with a quiet smile.
The woman laughed. “And how is dear Marco? Did he make his fortune in America like he said? He was crazy for your American movies. Said he was going to be a big star, like Valentino.”
“Mr. Venzi died some years ago,” answered Sebastian, knowing I was finding it hard to speak.
“Ah, I see,” she said. “Forgive me, young woman, my condolences. Your father was always so full of spirit. Too big for this little town.”
“Do you know if he had any relatives here?” said Sebastian.
“Well, there was his mother, but she died a long time ago. Marco had a sister who was much older than him, I remember. But she married and moved away, to Naples, I think. I’m sorry, I don’t remember the name of the man she married, so that’s all I can tell you.”
She nodded, and moved back inside the shadowy café.
Sebastian held my hand, stroking his thumb over the back of my knuckles.
“We could try and find her,” he said, gently. “She might have had kids – you could have cousins you don’t know about.”
“Yes, I might. I probably do.”
I closed my eyes, remembering the happiness my father found in everything to do with America: the music, the movies, the TV shows, the cars – especially the cars. A large, pale blue Cadillac had been his pride and joy. The damn thing drove like a bus: I used to get seasick just from sitting in the back seat.
But that was in the past; it was all in the past, and I was planning a future.
“It doesn’t matter, Sebastian,” I said, slowly. “Signora Carello was right: even if there are cousins, they’re not my family – not really. I have my friends and I have you. You’re my family now.”
He bowed his head and held my hand to his lips. Then he stood up, taking me by surprise.
And in that dusty little square, in that nondescript, one-horse town where the fountain coughed and spluttered and the cars passed by without a second glance, he sank to one knee.
“Carolina Maria Venzi: I love you, and I want to spend my life with you. Will you marry me?”
Chapter 11
I stared down in amazement as Sebastian knelt before me, his beautiful face torn with anxiety.
I could think of a thousand reasons why marrying him was sheer lunacy, and only one reason why it wasn’t.
I took a deep breath, willing all my doubts and fears away.
“I love you, too, Sebastian. And the answer is yes.”
He let out a shout of delight and leapt to his feet, pulling me into his arms, and holding me tightly as if he’d never let me go. I laid my head on his chest, listening to the pounding of his heart through his thin T-shirt.
“I’ll do everything to make you happy, I promise, Caro,” he whispered. “Everything, baby. You are my life.”
“And you are mine, tesoro. We’ll find a way; we always do.”
He sat back down on the hard, wooden seat and pulled me onto his lap, nuzzling my neck.
“Oh, fuck!” he said, angrily.
“What? What’s the matter?” I said, nervously.
Had he changed his mind already?
“I forgot to give you the fucking ring,” he snarled. “Fuck it! I wanted this to be so smooth. Jeez, I said it enough times in my head.”
“You did? You practiced this?”
I loved that he’d practiced.
He smiled, slightly abashed. “Yeah, once or twice. Maybe a few times more… Maybe a lot of times more… Ah, fuck it, Caro. See if the damn thing fits.”
I couldn’t help laughing out loud from sheer happiness – plus, he was so damn funny.
“You’re in danger of sweeping me off my feet again, Sebastian. How can I resist such sweet words: I’ll treasure your proposal forever, ‘See if the damn thing fits’.”
He grinned at me, then pulled a small ring box out of his back pocket, opened it, and laid it on the table.
Nestled in the dark blue satin was a small but breathtaking blue-white diamond solitaire, simply mounted on a gold band.
I gasped, as the diamond blazed in the sun, scattering tiny rainbows across the table.
“Sebastian, it’s beautiful! Where on earth did you get it… and when?”
“Try it on.”
He lifted the ring out of the box and slid it onto the third finger of my left hand.
“Perfect.”
“Yes, it is. Thank you, tesoro.”
I twisted around and kissed him softly, leaning down to enjoy the feel of his lips on mine.
Sebastian looked as if he’d just climbed Mount Everest or defeated the Mongol hordes single-handedly.
“So, fiancé,” I said, “what shall we do now?”
My new name took him by surprise.
“Wow, fiancé, huh? I didn’t think it could sound so cool.”
“I disagree, Sebastian. I think it sounds hot. Maybe we can agree to disagree, or just accept that it’s an all-temperature sort of title.”
He laughed loudly, the sound filled with a ridiculous and infectious joy that I couldn’t help sharing.
“Well, fiancée, I thought we could check out those gnarly bends on the Amalfi coast. What do you think?”
“I think you’re crazy, probably certifiable, and I’m horribly afraid it’s contagious.”
He grinned at me and stood up, tucking my hand under his arm, as we floated back down to Salerno.
The sun was blazing in the sky, the air warm, and the feeling that filled me, indescribable. I felt both calm and fizzing with joy; happy and anxious; loved and terrifyingly in love. I was falling off a cliff, one I’d thrown myself from willingly, hoping I’d fly. Crazy in love.
When we reached the villa, Signora Carello was standing in her garden, watering the bougainvillea.
“Did you have any luck finding your family, my dear?” she asked kindly.
“Yes, I did,” I said, gazing stupidly at Sebastian.
Sigora Carello gasped as she saw my ring flashing in the sunshine.
“Oh, felicitations, congratulazioni per il vostro fidanzamento, my children! I’m so happy for you.”
And she kissed us each three times, while Sebastian grinned away as if nothing could ever dim his happiness.
“And now for your surprise?” she said, patting Sebastian on his arm.
He winked and nodded.
I actually felt jealous that I wasn’t in on the secret, but I couldn’t help smiling anyway.
“Some lunch before you go? I was going to fix myself insalata tricolore – you’re welcome to join me.”
We sat in the signora’s pretty garden, enjoying the tranquility that came from within.
“So, when will you marry?” she asked, with keen interest.
We answered simultaneously.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“As soon as possible,” said Sebastian.
The signora laughed.
“Oh, you two have some talking to do, I can see that. Never mind, my dears, you’ll work it out. Have you decided where you’ll live?”
“Caro has a place near New York,” said Sebastian, “but I could be stationed anywhere.”
“You’re in the army?”
“No, ma’am, US Marines.”
Signora Carello nodded slowly, a frown of concern crinkling her eyes.
“He has to do two more years,” I said, staring at my plate, and trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. “And he’s being sent out to Afghanistan. On Thursday.”
“Ah,” she said, and shook her head sadly.
“Hey, it’ll be fine,” said Sebastian, emphasizing the final word. “Besides, I might see you out there.”
Signora Carello looked confused.
“Caro is a reporter – a foreign correspondent,” said Sebastian. “But I wish she…”
He stopped mid-sentence.
“Well,” said the signora, forcefully, “you young people don’t choose the easy path, but it is
your own path. I wish you both well. Please come back and have your honeymoon here.”
“Honeymoon!” said Sebastian, looking as if he’d just won the lottery. “Hell, I’d forgotten about that! Yeah, we should definitely have a honeymoon, Caro. With room service – so we don’t have to get out of bed.”
I felt hugely embarrassed he’d said that in front of the signora, but she just laughed and he winked at her.
When Signora Carello took the plates back into the villa, I elbowed Sebastian in the ribs.
“Don’t say things like that in front of her: she’ll be embarrassed!”
Sebastian laughed. “You’re the only one who’s embarrassed, Caro, which is pretty fucking funny. Signora Carello used to be ‘fast’, remember? Anyway, I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”
And then I recalled that the signora had already cleaned our room that morning; I cringed, thinking about the large number of condoms that we’d deposited in the garbage can. Oh, God, how embarrassing was that? Sebastian’s inappropriate comment paled to nothing when faced with more tangible evidence of how we’d spent our time.
We collected our leather jackets from the tidy room, and Sebastian changed into his heavy boots before we headed off for the ‘surprise’. He looked so sexy bending over to fasten the buckles. What was it about jeans, boots and leather jackets? I wondered what it would be like riding through upstate New York on Sebastian’s mean machine. Now that would be fun.
I was puzzled when the signora cornered us by the front door and kissed us again, whispering something to Sebastian, and patting his arm.
I had the distinct impression that they’d planned something together: no doubt the Hunter charm and the Italian love of intrigue had been cooking up something.
The Amalfi coastline was like a huge James Bond set. Dizzying, narrow roads arced up the mountain, with the cliffs falling away into the sea, many hundreds of feet below.
I clung onto Sebastian, as he took the turns with terrifying speed. I could tell he was enjoying himself, but I had my eyes closed and grit my teeth so hard, I was afraid I would grind them into chalk dust or make them come flying out of my mouth like so many peanuts.
At the top of the path, above the small town of Pontone, Sebastian pulled off the road next to a lemon grove, and cut the engine.
“It’s a great view, baby. You want to get your camera out?”
I opened my eyes and pulled off my helmet. He was right – it was stunning. And, with my blood pressure returning to normal, I felt able to capture the astonishing landscape in the lens. I snapped a few of Sebastian, too, looking all bad-boy next to his motorcycle.
I climbed a little higher to get some more views of the sea; when I slithered back down the mountainside, I was surprised to see that Sebastian was digging around for something in one of the bike’s saddlebags.
“Don’t you want to ride on a bit further?” I said, puzzled.
“Nope: we’re staying here. Picnic,” he grinned at me, holding a miniature bottle of champagne in one hand, and two crystal flutes in the other. “Borrowed from Signora Carello,” he said, answering my unspoken question.
“I think the signora has a soft spot for you, Sebastian.”
“Must be my animal magnetism, baby.”
I rolled my eyes at him.
“Hey, don’t knock it: it works on you.”
“That is true, Chief.”
He led us to a patch of dry, springy grass and opened the champagne, where the cork flew off like a rocket, making us both duck.
“Huh, guess it got shook up on the road.”
Yeah, and it wasn’t the only thing that got shook up, I thought, uncharitably.
He poured the champagne, half-filling the glasses with froth and bubbles.
“Here’s to us, Caro,” he said, softly and seriously. “Today, tomorrow, forever. Promise?”
“Yes, tesoro. Forever, I promise.”
We sat, high above the Mediterranean, as if at the top of the world, sipping our champagne and speaking quietly, promises and words of love. Then we lay in each other’s arms, feeling the warm sun on our faces.
“I love my surprise, Sebastian,” I said contentedly.
He chuckled quietly. “This is only part of it, Caro. There’s more.”
“More?”
“Much more.”
“Such as?”
“You’ll see.”
Feeling a little lightheaded from both the ride and the champagne, I mounted the motorcycle once more, and we headed back down towards the sea. This time, I screwed up my courage and managed to open one eye as Sebastian raced down the hill, taking the curves with what, to me, seemed like reckless speed.
We arrived in the village Conca dei Marini without incident and, to my surprise, Sebastian pulled up in the forecourt of Il Saraceno, a hotel so grand, I was sure it must be frequented by the great and good, the wealthy and the beautiful. Sebastian fit right in – especially on that last one. I looked dusty and travel-stained, as if I’d just crossed the Sahara on the back of a smelly camel.
Il Saraceno clung to the cliffs, a series of fortress-like arches that mimicked the ancient Moorish architecture of Spanish Grenada. The views down to the sea were in danger of bringing on an attack of vertigo.
“Here?” I asked uncertainly, aware that my hair resembled a squashed bird’s nest.
“Here,” he said, with a smile.
I was surprised when he unpacked the bike’s saddlebags, and handed the keys of his machine to a man at the reception desk. I couldn’t imagine him letting anyone else park it; I supposed the valet would simply wheel it around to the parking area.
The receptionist smiled, and handed an envelope to Sebastian, along with a room key.
“We’re staying here? But we left all our things at Signora Carello’s?”
“Actually, we haven’t. I asked the signora to pack us up while we were out this morning. She was cool about it: besides this is kind of her idea. Well, she helped me pick out somewhere special.”
“But a place like this must cost a small fortune, Sebastian!”
“I can afford it, baby. This is my first night as an engaged man – and I want to enjoy it. Hey, don’t worry: the only thing I’ve spent my pay on in the last ten years is booze and bikes: I’m good for it.”
Which wasn’t the point, but he was in such high spirits, I didn’t have the heart to argue with him.
But the surprise didn’t end there; when we got to our room, Sebastian swept me up into his arms, and insisted on carrying me over the threshold, his wonderfully romantic gesture leaving me breathless.
The bed was huge, almost seven feet wide. I’d never seen anything like it – but I quickly formed plans for how we could use it. I barely noticed the opulence of the rest of the room, the chandelier and long curtains trailing across our own private balcony. The bathroom alone was an essay in magnificence: an enormous whirlpool bathtub, plus a vast hydro-massage shower. Both were fashioned out of marble, and could probably have accommodated an entire soccer team. I couldn’t wait to try them out with my very own United States Marine.
Sebastian pulled open the wardrobe doors and didn’t seem at all surprised to see two suit carriers hanging up inside.
“This one is for you, baby.”
Staring at him in amazement, a smile creeping over my face, I unzipped the carrier that he handed me, to reveal a stunning, floor-length evening gown, in midnight blue.
“Sebastian, it’s beautiful! What have you done?”
He grinned at me. “I got one, too. A tux – like you wanted. Except mine is just rented. You get to keep the dress.”
I laid my beautiful gown on the bed, and wrapped my arms around his neck.
“How did you get to be so perfect, Sebastian, because I could have sworn you were a giant pain in the ass.”
He laughed. “Next time I piss you off, I’m going to remind you that you said that, baby. Which will probably be in about five minutes.”
�
�Probably,” I agreed, with a smile.
“Come on, let’s shower, and then I want to see you in that dress.”
“Why, Chief! You want to put me into clothes?”
“You have another idea?” he murmured into my neck.
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