Summer's Lease: Escape to paradise with this swoony summer romance: (Shakespeare Sisters)

by Carrie Elks

  She’d almost fallen back to sleep when the noise woke her up. The sound of an approaching engine, and the crackle of tyres on gravel. Then there was the banging of car doors, and a low hum of conversation replaced the engine. Cesca’s eyes flew open in alarm.

  ‘Sam?’ She turned, shaking his shoulders to wake him up. ‘Sam, Gabi and Sandro are here.’

  Lazily, he cracked open an eye. ‘They’re a day early. They’re not supposed to be here until tomorrow.’

  ‘Exactly.’ She escaped his hold, sitting up in his bed. The thin sheet fell from her, revealing her naked chest. ‘And they’re about to walk into the house. We need to get dressed.’

  He was so much calmer than she was. ‘Relax, they’re used to us taking naps. We can go down and say hi in a minute.’

  ‘But they’re not used to us taking naps in the nude, Sam. And the last thing either of us want is to be found in bed together.’

  ‘Baby, calm down. Gabi and Sandro are loyal, they’re not going to say anything. And anyway, they’re not going to walk into my room, are they?’ He pulled her back into his arms.

  ‘Hello?’ A voice called up from the hall. Female and Italian. ‘Is anybody here?’

  Sam sat up immediately, horror etched across his face. ‘Fuck. That’s my mom. What the hell’s she doing here? Jesus, we need to get up.’ He scrambled out of bed, searching for his clothes. ‘We need to get dressed, right now.’

  Cesca laughed nervously. She could almost feel him withdrawing from her, as he pulled on his trousers. ‘What happened to being calm?’

  He turned to look at her, frowning. ‘This isn’t funny.’

  It felt like a slap. She wanted to recoil from the shock of it. ‘I’m sorry . . . ’ The humour drained out of her face as she looked around for her clothes, locating them strewn across his bedroom floor.

  ‘Miss Shakespeare? Are you around here?’ A male voice. Distinctly American. Just the sound of it turned Sam’s face pale. And it was close, nearer the door than before, definitely not in the hall where his mom’s voice was coming from.

  ‘What do I do?’ Cesca asked Sam, the panic rising inside her. ‘Should I tell him I’m here?’

  He shook his head furiously. ‘Get in the bathroom.’ He practically shoved her towards the en suite. ‘I’ll distract them, take them outside. When it’s clear you can come down. Tell them you were listening to music while cleaning or something.’

  With only a few words he dismissed her as anything except a servant. She walked into the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind her, trying to catch her breath. An indignant anger suffused her body at his dismissal, and at the way the intimacy between them had disappeared without even a kind word. But then she really was the hired help, and in Sam’s parents’ eyes she’d like to keep it that way. At least until they could work out what the hell was going on.

  Shit shit shit.

  Sam tugged at his hair as he looked at himself in the bedroom mirror. He could hear his stepfather pacing up the corridor, his size twelve feet stomping on the wood. A sense of unease passed over him, his stomach twisting as the echo got closer.

  ‘You can do this,’ he told himself. He was an actor, after all. He could plaster on a smile and pretend everything was OK. He ran a hand through his hair, vainly attempting to tame it, not wanting to give Foster yet more ammunition to use against him. Hair like his father’s, or so Foster had said. Sam was a walking, talking symbol of everything his stepfather hated.

  Taking a deep breath that did nothing to calm him, he pulled the bedroom door open and walked out.

  ‘Hey.’ He practically barrelled into Foster, who was standing on the landing. ‘I didn’t know you were coming.’

  Foster frowned. ‘So you are here. When I spoke to Gabi this morning, she told me you’d turned up. You could have asked, Sam, or given us some notice.’

  ‘It’s good to see you, too.’ Sam tried to walk past his stepfather, aware that Cesca was still in his bedroom. It made him sick to the stomach to think of Foster discovering her in there. But his stepfather didn’t move, and his tank-like body blocked the way.

  ‘You’ve got a lot to answer for,’ Foster hissed. ‘Your mother’s been in a complete state. And your sisters have been in tears. You just disappeared without a word.’

  Sam’s hackles rose. He’d barely been talking to his stepfather for a minute, and he already wanted to hit him. ‘I needed a break.’

  ‘So you came here, to your mother’s home? What if the paparazzi find you? You know how much your mom values our privacy here. It’s the same as always, you fuck things up and then you come and expect us to clear them up for you. You’re twenty-seven years old, Sam. When are you going to grow up?’

  His stepfather was poison. Sam could feel the little kid he used to be wanting to cower away. But he wasn’t a little kid any more. He was a man, and he needed to act like one.

  ‘It’s private and remote. The paps aren’t going to find me here, and even if they did, what could they do?’ he asked. ‘I’ve kept a low profile, I’m not exactly flaunting myself here.’

  ‘There’s a first time for everything.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  Foster looked shocked at Sam’s response. And maybe he should. It was the only time in years that he’d stood up to him, and had looked him in the eye man to man.

  ‘It means you have no fucking sense at all. What were you doing running around with a married woman anyway? I told your mother, you have the morals of a fucking alley cat. The apple never falls far from the tree, Mr fucking Jackhammer.’

  ‘I’m my mother’s son, too,’ Sam said. ‘And I think she brought me up pretty well.’ No mention of Foster’s influence. He didn’t deserve it.

  ‘Of course you are, darling.’ His mother’s voice made them both jump. They’d been so intent on each other, squaring up like fighting dogs, that they hadn’t heard her approach. ‘And I’m very angry with you, why didn’t you return my calls?’ She took Sam’s cheeks in her hands, kissing him on both sides. ‘I’ve been worried sick about you.’

  Sam shrugged. As always his mother’s intervention calmed the waters. ‘You’re the one who insisted on cutting this place off,’ he reminded her. ‘No Wi-Fi, no phones, remember?’

  Lucia pouted. Her face held few signs of her age. ‘You could have sent word. Or gone into town to call me.’

  He grimaced. ‘I’m trying to keep a low profile.’

  ‘Oh, Samuel, you’ll never make a spy.’ She laughed, hugging him again. ‘We spoke to Gabi and she told us exactly where you were. She was so worried that she couldn’t be here to look after you, and that she’d left . . . oh, what’s her name . . . to do all the work.’

  ‘Cesca,’ Sam said quietly. ‘Her name is Cesca.’

  Lucia hooked her arm through her son’s, leading him towards the stairs. ‘That’s right, Cesca. It’s a lovely name. How has she been getting on? Has she looked after you?’

  Lucia kept up a steady stream of questions as she led him downstairs, asking him about his time in Italy and the movies he had planned when he returned to LA. Finally, when they made it into the kitchen, with Foster trailing behind, she paused long enough for him to answer.

  ‘So who is this girl, anyway?’

  Sam’s stomach dropped. ‘What girl?’

  ‘The one in the papers. Serena Sloane. Is it serious between you?’

  ‘No, not at all. It’s all been exaggerated. I didn’t even know she was still married.’ He searched for a way to change the subject.

  ‘It wouldn’t have been difficult to find out,’ Foster interjected.

  ‘Yeah, well. I didn’t.’ Sam looked down. ‘I’m not that kind of guy, you know, I wouldn’t steal somebody’s wife.’

  ‘Of course you aren’t,’ Lucia said, squeezing his arm. ‘Foster, stop making him feel bad.’

  Her husband raised an eyebrow but said nothing – he saved the worst of his insults for when it was just him and Sam. He’d done i
t for years.

  ‘Anyway, she’s obviously fame hungry,’ Lucia added. ‘Horrible woman, using you to get some notoriety. You need to be more careful about the people you hang around with, Sam. You know not everybody has your best interests at heart.’

  She didn’t know the half of it. ‘I know that. And yeah, some people haven’t proved to be the friends I thought they were. I’ve fired my agent.’

  ‘You have?’

  ‘Turns out he represented Serena, too. I’ve left it in my lawyer’s hands.’

  ‘Oh, darling, that’s awful.’

  ‘You need to get some better business judgement,’ Foster remarked. ‘You always trust the wrong people, Sam. I could put you in touch with a good agent.’

  ‘Of course your father could help,’ Lucia said, always trying to be the bridge between them. ‘Why don’t you let him make a few calls?’

  ‘He can’t do anything while he’s here, not without a phone signal,’ Sam pointed out. There was no way he was going to let Foster have anything to do with his career, but, as always, he wanted to protect his mom.

  ‘When we get back to Paris, then,’ Lucia said, smiling at him. ‘It would be lovely to see you working more closely. I keep telling Foster how wonderful it would be if you were in a play he produced. I’d love to have my two men in the same city for once.’

  Sam caught Foster’s gaze for a brief moment. His stepfather looked as excited by that prospect as Sam felt.

  ‘When are you going back to Paris, anyway?’ Sam asked. ‘I thought you were going to be there all summer.’

  ‘In a few days, maybe a week,’ his mother said. ‘We all needed a break. As wonderful as Paris is, in the middle of the summer it can be stifling. All those people . . . ’ She grimaced.

  ‘A week?’ Sam couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows. A whole goddamned week? It was bad enough when they thought Gabi and Sandro were coming back, knowing he and Cesca were going to have to cool things down, at least in front of them. But now his mom and Foster were here, that put everything up in the air. He couldn’t even begin to think about the fallout.

  ‘And the girls?’

  ‘They ran straight down to the lake, of course.’ Foster smiled indulgently. ‘They didn’t know you were here.’

  ‘All my family together at last, it’s like a dream come true,’ Lucia said, hugging him yet again. ‘We’re going to have a wonderful time.’

  Holding his mother in his arms, Sam closed his eyes, wishing he could agree with her. From where he was standing, the dream was turning into a nightmare.

  ‘We’d like dinner at seven, on the terrace. Foster is wheat intolerant, so Gabi usually does risotto,’ Lucia said. ‘And Izzy has decided to become a pescatarian, so something with fish would be lovely.’

  Cesca nodded, trying to keep busy so she didn’t have to look at Lucia for too long. Every time she did, a sense of shame washed over her. The woman had been paying her to do practically nothing, apart from writing her play and sleeping with her son. That knowledge made Cesca blush.

  ‘Of course. I’ll go into town to stock up. Let me know if there’s anything else you need. I’m so sorry everything wasn’t ready for you. It was inexcusable.’

  Lucia laughed, and it sounded just like Sam. ‘Not at all. You weren’t to know we were coming. And if I’d thought about it we could have waited until tomorrow, when Gabi and Sandro come back. But I was so desperate to get out of Paris, we just upped and left this morning. The heat in the city was so oppressive, I longed for the lake.’

  Cesca smiled, placing glasses on the silver tray she’d found in the cupboard. ‘If you’d like to go back outside I’ll bring your drinks out. Your rooms are made up now, too, if any of you would like an afternoon nap.’

  ‘A riposo,’ Lucia said. ‘We used to have those when I was a little girl. Foster doesn’t like napping, though. He says it wastes the day.’

  Even the mention of Foster’s name was enough to rile Cesca. She’d heard his exchange with Sam while she was hiding in the bedroom, and she’d wanted to run outside, to tell him what she thought of a man who enjoyed hurting his son. But deep down she knew she’d only make things worse for Sam. If they could get any worse.

  When she took the tray of drinks out to the terrace, the whole family was there. Sam, his mother, the older, silver-haired man she recognised to be Foster, and two teenage girls who were lying on loungers, letting the afternoon sun warm their bodies.

  ‘Let me help you with that.’ Sam jumped up to take the tray from her. His hands covered hers, and for a moment everything felt right. Until she looked into his eyes, and couldn’t see anything at all. Just a blankness that made her stomach contract.

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, letting Sam hold the tray while she handed the drinks out. When there was only one glass left, they attempted to swap, Cesca taking the tray while Sam took the glass.

  ‘Actually, I think I’ll have a beer,’ Sam said. ‘I’ll run in with you and get one.’

  ‘I can bring you one out.’

  ‘It’s fine, I could do with some cooler air, anyway.’

  ‘Stay here, Sam,’ his youngest sister called out. Cesca tried to remember her name from their conversations, but couldn’t recall if she was Izzy or Sienna. ‘I want you to tell me about your new movie.’

  ‘Yes, stay. Cesca can bring you a beer out, can’t you, Cesca?’

  ‘Of course I can.’ Her smile was tight. She didn’t know why she was feeling so put upon. She’d had enough waiting jobs, she knew the score. Waitresses were meant to be seen and not heard, silent bringers of food and drink who then disappeared into the background. But in the weeks she’d been here, she’d shrugged off that persona. Let go of the Cesca she’d been, the one who was talked down to by patrons and managers alike. She’d come to see this beautiful villa in Varenna as a haven, a home, not a place of work.

  That had been her first mistake. A big one, too. She should have known better than that.

  She carried the empty tray back into the kitchen, wiping it clean before storing it away. Then she pulled the refrigerator open, reaching inside for a bottle of beer. The glass was cold and damp, rivulets wetting her hand.

  ‘You don’t need to ignore me, you know.’

  Cesca whipped around to see Sam standing behind her. ‘I wasn’t ignoring you. I was doing my job.’

  He blinked a couple of times, looking confused. ‘Are you angry at me?’

  ‘No.’ She leaned back against the worktop, still holding the bottle. ‘I’m angry at myself more than anything. I got too comfortable, I’d forgotten why I was here. It feels as though everything I’ve done has been so disrespectful to your parents. They’re paying me, after all.’

  ‘Disrespectful?’ Sam frowned. ‘How have you been disrespectful?’

  She looked around him, to confirm they were alone. ‘Sam, you know how. I was lying in bed with you when they arrived. That’s not exactly star employee material, is it?’

  His face relaxed as he laughed. ‘Did you want to be a star employee?’

  Cesca sighed. ‘They were good enough to give me a job when I needed one. If they find out about us it’s going to look terrible.’

  He took a step towards her, reaching out to grab her by the arms. ‘There’s nothing terrible about us.’ The next moment she was in his arms. She stiffened for a moment, still afraid of being discovered, but then her emotions got the better of her. She melted into him.

  ‘I just want to go home,’ she whispered. ‘I feel really out of place here.’

  ‘Hey.’ He brushed his lips against hers. ‘What happened to that girl who was celebrating finishing her play? You don’t need to feel out of place. You’re as good as any of them out there. Better. And I hate seeing you serving us all like some fucking maid.’

  ‘I hate it, too,’ she confessed.

  ‘The sooner Sandro and Gabi get here the better,’ Sam said.

  Cesca looked up at him. ‘But I’ll be leaving after that. And I won�
�t see you again.’

  ‘Of course you’ll see me. I’ll fly over, you can fly to see me. This doesn’t mean it’s the end of us.’

  His words made her heart feel light, as though a burst of helium had been let loose in her chest. ‘It doesn’t?’

  ‘Do you want it to be over?’ For the first time, he faltered.

  ‘I want—’

  The sound of the glass door sliding open silenced her. Sam jumped back, releasing her arms, and she busied herself at the refrigerator, pulling ingredients out to check their sell-by dates.

  ‘Sam, I thought you were coming straight back out.’

  ‘Hey, Izz, I was. I just needed to talk to Cesca about something.’

  His sister turned to look at her. ‘What about?’

  Cesca cleared her throat. ‘He was telling me you’re a pescatarian.’

  ‘Did Mom tell you?’ Izzy asked her brother. She flipped her dark, curly hair over her shoulder. She was the older sister – Cesca remembered that now – and at eighteen she was a real beauty. Looking at her, Cesca could imagine Lucia at the same age. A peach ripe for the picking, ready to be used by Sam’s father. Then discarded when things got tough.

  Sam glanced at Cesca. ‘Yeah, she did. How long’s that been going on?’

  Izzy screwed up her nose. ‘For the first two weeks we were in Paris, Dad took us out for a steak every night. I got sick of the things, so told them I wanted to be a vegetarian. Mom said I couldn’t so eventually we compromised.’

  She could see Sam trying to stifle a grin. ‘So fish don’t count?’

  Izzy looked guilty. ‘Of course they count, but I only eat responsibly farmed fish. I’m doing my bit, Sam.’

  ‘I’ll make sure you get some for dinner tonight,’ Cesca interjected.

  Izzy shot her a grateful look. ‘Thank you.’ Then, grabbing Sam by the arm, she pulled him away, telling him to come back outside. This time, Sam let himself be pulled, only pausing one moment to glance back at Cesca.

  ‘Later,’ he mouthed.

  She wasn’t sure if that was a threat or a promise.