‘About your anosmia Sofia, and what we’re going to do about it.’
* * *
Sofia shut the apartment door, closed her eyes and eagerly inhaled the crisp mountain air, imagining its cool clarity cleansing her foggy brain. Slowly the spinning circus in her head started to subside.
Opening her eyes she absorbed the majestic wonder of the large church ruin on the opposite side of the courtyard. Its crumbling façade a brilliant contrast against the cloudless azure sky.
Wrapping her scarf around her shoulders, she strolled across the piazza towards the grand frontage of the ancient building. Amazingly it was still largely intact, proudly defying the tests of time. It was just as her mother had described: a magical artefact from a forgotten era.
Sofia walked around the exterior of the ruin and discovered the majority of the side walls had deteriorated long ago and the roof had vanished completely, leaving the structure open to the expansive sky.
She carefully stepped over a low section of rubble into the vast interior of the church. Long grass grew between large scattered stones where the floor had once been. She halted, catching her breath at the sight of Roberto standing at a half-formed stone altar, facing away from her. He looked so vulnerable with his head bowed; his slackened shoulders at odds with his usual proud stance. Sofia felt like the outsider, interrupting a private moment.
‘Here you are.’
Roberto’s posture stiffened at the sound of her voice. He paused for a moment before turning to face her.
‘Ah, Sofia. You made it out of bed,’ he said teasingly. The solemnity of the moment she’d just witness had passed. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘A bit better.’ She slowly walked towards him, carefully navigating the uneven ground.
‘Here, espresso.’ He handed her a small paper cup, the dark liquid promising some relief from her hangover.
‘Thank you.’ She cupped the warm drink in her hands.
‘I suppose you can’t taste it.’ Surprisingly, sympathy coloured Roberto’s eyes rather than the smug satisfaction of someone who’d just gained the upper hand.
‘I still get a buzz from the caffeine.’ She sipped the thick, black coffee, welcoming its energy hit. She needed to snap out of her mind fog and regain her focus now her secret was out.
‘What’s it like? To devote your life to chocolate and not be able to taste it?’ Roberto’s voice softened, his brows furrowed with interest.
‘A lot of therapy,’ Sofia said dismissively.
‘I don’t know how I’d survive if I was in your position.’ He caught her eye again, his sympathetic gaze unfaltering. ‘My palate is everything.’
‘You’re telling me.’
‘Sorry, that was insensitive.’ Roberto raked his hands through his hair. ‘You told me you’d recovered.’
‘I guess now you’re going to shout it to the world? Sofia Beaumont the fraud.’
‘I’d never do that.’
‘Right, I guess it wouldn’t be a good look considering you’re meant to be in love with me.’
‘I don’t think you’re a fraud Sofia. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. I’m a chocolatier too, remember? I understand the gravity of losing your sense of taste.’
Sofia studied Roberto’s face for a trace of his superiority complex but all she saw was a look of genuine empathy shadowing his proud features.
‘It’s been hard. But having anosmia has made me appreciate my other senses more. Music can be as evocative as smells and flavours. And the texture of chocolate is almost as important as the taste, don’t you agree?’
‘Certo. I think losing your sense of touch would be the ultimate tragedy, no?’ His eyes gleamed at her.
‘It could be worse.’ Sofia averted her gaze and paced around the altar, ignoring a flush of warmth through her body at the thought of Roberto’s arousing touch. ‘After the car accident, I had to learn to walk again, that was my main focus. I’d just assumed the anosmia was short term. That’s often the case.’
‘It’s been years, hasn’t it?’
‘Three,’ she said softly. ‘But I will be cured. My olfactory nerve, that sends messages to your brain when you smell something? It’s healed completely. So it’s just a matter of time.’ Sofia drained the last of her coffee, hoping she sounded convincing.
Her specialists had told her that even though she’d made a full physical recovery, if her senses hadn’t returned within six months of the accident it was unlikely they ever would.
‘I’m so sorry that happened to you.’ Roberto’s gentle tone, stripped of his usual arrogance, crept under Sofia’s guard.
She paused by the altar and dared to meet his gaze, glimpsing a side to him she didn’t want to acknowledge. His eyes so tender she couldn’t take it. Not from him.
‘It’s beautiful here.’ She dashed her focus from Roberto, scrabbling for a change of subject as she ambled away from him. ‘My parents were married in this church.’
‘Really?’
‘It was a symbolic ceremony. Hippy style.’ Her mother had described the day countless times and Sofia could virtually see the scene laid out before her. ‘It was wintertime. Snow covered the ground, the tops of the walls, the surrounding mountains. It would’ve been freezing but they danced under the stars.’ She gazed up at the sky imagining a ceiling of black night speckled with twinkling lights. ‘My mother was happy here.’
‘Why did she leave?’
‘My father wasn’t ready for parenthood. He was offered an artist residency in Spain and we weren’t invited. I don’t even know if he’s still alive.’ She inhaled deeply, her father didn’t deserve her thoughts.
‘That’s when your mother took you to Turin?’
‘Looking for a better life.’ Sofia laughed cynically. ‘You know what happened after that.’ She looked at Roberto, thoughts of their tangled past flooding her mind. ‘Why was your father so callous?’
‘He wasn’t a bad man Sofia. He wanted to protect my mother, he was desperate and didn’t know what to do.’
‘He ruined my mother’s life.’
‘That wasn’t his intention.’
‘You know someone once said, “the biggest coward is a man who awakens a woman’s love with no intention of loving her”. My mother loved your father and not only did he reject her, pregnant with his child, he ordered her to abandon her career and leave the country. Humiliated her in the press claiming she’d stolen recipes and given them to him.’
‘Si.’ Roberto nodded, rubbing his eyes and exhaling loudly before looking at her directly. ‘My father was far from perfect, I know that better than anyone. But he loved his wife and fought to protect her.’
‘If he loved his wife so much, why did he seduce my mother?’
‘It was a... difficult time for my family.’ Roberto seemed to struggle to get the words out before turning away from her.
‘Why? What was so bad that he chose to use my mother—’ Sofia gasped as the onset of tears begged for release. ‘And throw her away?’
Roberto spun back to her, his eyes imploring her understanding. ‘He was desperate. He wanted to save my mother from more heartache.’
‘He’d cheated on her before?’
‘No, nothing like that.’ Roberto shook his head as he slowly paced around the disintegrating altar. ‘A couple of years before my father met your mother... my older brother passed away. He was only eighteen.’
Roberto bit on the last word as though saying it sapped all his energy. The raw pain in his voice, the slight shudder of his broad shoulders told Sofia he was struggling for composure.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know about your brother.’ She didn’t want Roberto to be worthy of her sympathy; her family didn’t deserve that. But her heart ached for his loss. She understood the crippling pain of losing someone you loved.
Roberto looked at her, his eyes glistening. ‘It was like my mother died the same day as my brother. She was one of Italy’s greatest chocolatiers but she w
ithdrew from the kitchen, from life. My father was left alone, with only me, just a boy, to try and make sense of everything. When he met your mother he was still grieving. Estranged from his wife, he was... weak. Rachel gave him the comfort he needed.’
‘Until she fell pregnant.’
‘Si.’
‘And he ordered her to leave.’
‘He still loved my mother. She was drowning in grief, he couldn’t cause her more pain.’
‘But why tell the press lies? That my mother stole recipes for him?’
Roberto scraped his hands through his hair. ‘She wouldn’t leave.’
‘She was pregnant with his child.’ Sofia swallowed hard on the sudden tide of emotion that threatened to finally erupt in a torrent of tears. Her mother’s torment at being ruthlessly abandoned echoed in the depths of Sofia. She knew that pain too well.
‘He made a mistake,’ Roberto said softly, his hands raised helplessly.
They stared at each other, the silence between them thickening with the irreconcilable differences of their shared past.
‘Yeah,’ Sofia sighed, her shoulders slumped as her attention fell back to the hollow church grounds. She wrapped her arms around herself as the warm vision of her mother’s wedding faded, giving way to the cold reality of the present. The past was best left unspoken.
‘I need to get supplies and get started on my recipe.’ She’d learned the hard way practicality should always win over emotion.
‘Of course.’ Roberto clasped his hands and strode to her side. If he’d momentarily lost his composure it was back now with the change of subject. ‘Ready when you are.’
‘Roberto, I’m perfectly capable of going to the shops by myself.’
‘And then? You can’t test your recipe alone. I’m happy to help, I’ll be your palate, no?’
Ever since she’d been told they were stuck in Baraldo, Sofia had tortured herself trying to come up with a solution. She’d refused to admit Roberto might be her only option.
‘Actually, given our history, I think it’s best if I find someone else. Maybe that nice man from the bar, Alfredo.’ She lifted her chin at him defiantly.
Roberto scoffed. ‘Sure, he’s missing several teeth, his oral health is questionable, but no doubt his palate is top notch.’
‘Alright, how about Bianca? She seems accommodating.’ Sofia raised her eyebrows at him.
‘Sofia, you could ask the whole town, no one is even close to meeting your requirements. But I...’ he stepped towards her, ‘am exactly what you need. Now is not the time to be stubborn.’
‘How can I possibly trust you?’ Sofia backed away from him. ‘Your mission is to destroy my business, not help it.’
The uneven ground suddenly shifted under her feet as her heel caught the edge of a protruding rock. Roberto leapt forward, his arm swooping around her waist, preventing her fall. Sofia’s skin burned at his sudden closeness.
‘My mission, Sofia, is not to hurt you.’ He held her tight against his warm chest and looked down into her eyes. A shiver of familiarity shot through her. Had he held her like that last night?
Her breath caught in her throat, unable to speak as the intensity of his gaze seemed to penetrate right through her. She squirmed out of his embrace and wrapped her scarf protectively around her quivering body.
‘My mission, as you call it, is to redeem the Conti reputation as a family run business with high moral values.’
‘Huh, an impossible task,’ Sofia snorted, happy to resume their face-off.
‘Not with you by my side,’ he said. ‘You and your sister are the darlings of the culinary world; publicly humiliating you is hardly going to help my cause is it? I’ve learnt from my mistakes. My success depends on convincing the world I’m on your side.’
‘But you’re not. When it’s all over and the paparazzi move on, you’re not on my side. My chocolate is based on my mother’s recipe and to share it with you after what your father did to her? Regardless of the circumstances. How could I do that?’
‘What’s the alternative? You don’t perfect your recipe and have nothing to showcase at the gala? Bonaparte’s will lose priceless publicity and you’ll miss your opportunity to shine on the world stage again.’
And the stress causes her beautiful sister to lose her baby. Sofia closed her eyes, her persistent headache muted by a twisting pain deep in her abdomen. Annabella was more than a half-sister; she was her kindred spirit and her only family. She wouldn’t let her suffer the heart wrenching grief that haunted Sofia.
‘I know you have some serious trust issues with me, no?’ Roberto continued.
‘To say the least.’
‘So, how about this? When I’m assisting you with your recipe, I’ll wear a blindfold. You don’t have to show me anything you don’t want to.’
Sofia crossed her arms and looked at him warily as she considered his suggestion. She couldn’t deny the idea of Roberto in a blindfold under her complete control was very appealing.
And what choice did she have? There wasn’t enough time to wait until she got back to Florence to test her recipe. She hated to admit it but Roberto was right, she needed a professional by her side.
‘Okay. But no funny business.’
‘Yes, chef.’
‘And first I have to test your palate.’
‘You won’t be disappointed.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘Comfort yourself with that old saying. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer, no?’
His eyes gleamed at Sofia and a brief, unsettling sense of déjà vu swept over her.
Chapter 4
Roberto dug his fingers into the cushioned seat of the dining chair as Sofia wound a navy silk tie over his eyes and tied it in a knot at the back of his head. His nostrils flared with tantalising awareness at her faint vanilla scent encircling him in the sudden darkness.
‘All secure?’ She tightened the knot a little too forcefully.
Roberto nodded. With his sight gone, his other senses were on high alert. Every nerve hummed with anticipation as he sat blindfolded at the mercy of Sofia and her chocolate.
‘Here we go,’ she said.
Roberto shivered at the cool rim of a metal spoon resting on his lower lip. He inhaled deeply, immediately recognising the dominant spicy undertone of the chocolate.
‘Cardamom,’ he said confidently.
‘You haven’t even tasted it yet.’
‘I don’t need to, I can smell it.’
‘Okay, smarty pants. What else?’
‘Smarty what?’ He raised his eyebrows above the rim of the blindfold.
‘Smarty pants. You know, a smart alec, a know-it-all.’
‘A know... it... all,’ he drew out the words. ‘I like the sound of that.’
‘It wasn’t a compliment. So, smarty pants, what else?’ she asked in a clipped, no-fuss tone.
Roberto swallowed his grin and inhaled again. An exquisite sweet combination spiralled up his nose. ‘Cinnamon and... lavender.’
‘Correct. Now taste.’
In the blackness, the husky edge of Sofia’s demand, so close Roberto could feel her warmth breath on his cheek, was like a seductive siren song. Coupled with the unexpected brush of her long hair against his bare forearm it was like she’d become a chocolatier enchantress casting spells over him. Roberto cleared his throat as he shelved the alluring fantasy for future reference.
He opened his mouth imagining Sofia’s swollen lips that had eagerly kissed him the night before. Instead a cool pillow of earthy chocolate enlivened his tongue and his taste buds roused in a different kind of frenzy.
Spicy notes of cardamom and cinnamon harmonised perfectly with the dark chocolate, subtle hints of lavender rising and receding as he savoured the confection, easily identifying the remaining flavours.
‘70% Colombian cacao, a hint of date syrup, vanilla bean and, of course, hazelnut. Bonaparte’s spiced brûlée truffle, correct?’
‘Okay.’ His ears pricked at a clangi
ng sound, presumably Sofia’s spoon dropping into the stainless steel sink. ‘Now something different.’
‘That’s it? No smarty pants?’
‘Open wide.’
Roberto parted his lips and welcomed a small firm chocolate onto his tongue. He bit through a crisp dark coating and his taste buds revelled in a heavenly combination of hazelnut praline, smooth gianduja and creamy white chocolate mousse. He swirled the luscious textures around his mouth and hints of ameretto, butterscotch and candied fig emerged, tantalising his senses even more. He savoured the familiar dolce as recognition sunk in.
‘Very amusing Sofia.’
‘What?’ she asked, her voice thick with feigned innocence.
‘It’s De Costa’s signature tendre praline, and your sister’s creation I believe.’
‘I’m glad you’re so familiar with your competition.’ Her light-hearted tone made Roberto smile in turn.
‘Do you always travel with De Costa chocolates?’
‘Sure, among others. Never know when I’ll need a little mood lift. And I couldn’t resist the look on your face when you realised what you were eating.’
‘I’m always keen to taste the competition.’ Roberto wished he could have gauged Sofia’s reaction to his double entendre. He couldn’t wait for another taste of her delectable mouth. And her spirited response to him last night proved her body craved his. It wasn’t just the grappa. He’d recognised desire in her sober eyes during the photo shoot. It was just a matter of time.
‘Okay. Here’s another,’ she whispered seductively close to his ear as though aware she was driving him crazy. Roberto gripped the sides of his chair resisting the temptation to draw her into his arms.
Sofia balanced a spoon on his lip again, the scent of sweet coconut immediately transporting his mind in another direction. A sundrenched memory of childhood holidays flickered in his blackened vision.
Stand back Berto! His brother Matteo had warned as he’d swung a machete at a hard coconut husk eventually cracking the shell, always giving Roberto the first taste of the fresh watery milk, the essence of summer.
Roberto usually welcomed memories of his brother; like an exquisite pain he couldn’t resist. But his conversation with Sofia in the church ruin that morning had stirred old feelings of guilt and regret. And now the bittersweet image of Matteo was a damning reminder of all Roberto had done.
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