Only for Show

by Charlotte Marigold

  The plunging neckline was borderline appropriate and Fabrizio had reprimanded her when he’d seen her granny underpants. But for ‘modesty’ he’d provided a G-string that resembled a string of dental floss. And though she’d been reluctant to abandon her full briefs, the smooth fluid fabric against her bare skin made her feel sexy and not entirely out of place next to Roberto.

  ‘You’re stunning, Sofia. You’ll be the star of the festival.’ He offered her his elbow.

  ‘You mean we will be.’ She smiled at him as she linked her arm through his. ‘Let’s do this.’

  * * *

  ‘Roberto! Sofia!’ Photographers shouted from the growing crowd around the horse-drawn carriage as it slowly gathered speed along the riverside promenade towards the Ponte Vecchio.

  Sofia longed to take the reins and deliver them back to the quiet of the penthouse suite away from all the attention. But as required she smiled for the cameras and nestled into Roberto on the snug cushioned seat in the open-air carriage.

  ‘You okay?’ Roberto leant in as he waved to their excited audience.

  ‘This is so surreal. I’m not used to people screaming for my attention. It’s a little overwhelming.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m right by your side.’ Roberto draped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer against his warm body.

  Right by his side. Not long ago that thought would have sent chills through Sofia but now Roberto’s comforting words wrapped around her like a security blanket, protecting her from the insistent crowd.

  ‘Oh. My. God.’ Sofia’s thumping pulse muted the noisy crowd as the carriage slowly passed an enormous poster spanning three stories of a cobbled brick building. A gargantuan image of her in Roberto’s gold-flecked embrace pouring liquid chocolate into his mouth as she gazed wickedly at onlookers.

  ‘Mamma mia. Sofia, you look incredible.’ Roberto craned his neck to take in the scale of their image. He seemed completely oblivious to Sofia’s horror at their high-definition, technicolour soft-porn debut. ‘And look, over there.’

  He pointed delightedly at their image on the back of a bus further along the road. Sofia’s stomach lurched as she met her own gaze again. Under the words Feast Your Senses, she bit into Roberto’s chocolate covered shoulder, her eyes flashing seductively at the camera.

  ‘No wonder we’re so popular, no?’ Roberto beamed at her.

  ‘This isn’t funny,’ Sofia said as the carriage turned into the bustling throng of via Por Santa Maria. ‘I had no idea we were going to be so... enormous.’

  ‘That’s what we wanted, no? This publicity is priceless.’

  ‘I guess... I just look so—’

  ‘Beautiful. You look beautiful Sofia. And sexy as hell.’ Roberto’s arm dropped from her shoulder around her waist and he squeezed her against him. ‘I was at your mercy during that photo shoot.’

  ‘Good.’ Sofia laughed, happily distracted from her self-analysis.

  ‘And look at the result.’ Roberto gestured to the crowd following alongside the carriage as they headed towards the hub of the festival. ‘It worked,’ he whispered in her ear, his unshaven jaw brushing against her neck sent a wave of tingles across her skin.

  He pulled back slightly to catch her gaze, his eyes alive with undeniable desire. He ran his fingers through her hair and cupped her nape, pulling her to his mouth. A thrilling combination of hot, tender lips and electrifying stubble.

  The crowd clapped and hooted at their public display of affection.

  ‘See.’ He sat back in his seat, his arm slung around her shoulder again. ‘We make a very convincing couple.’

  Of course Roberto was maximising their opportunity to perform for their eager audience. But Sofia had sensed the same passion in that kiss she’d felt when they were alone in Baraldo. It wasn’t just for show. And neither was her exhilarating response to him.

  She held his hand on her shoulder and she looked out into the sea of smiling faces. Cocooned in the comfort of Roberto’s embrace, contentment flowed through her. He was right; the public seemed thrilled with their ‘relationship’. Annabella was doing well and the publicity for Bonaparte’s provided the perfect time to release her cioccolatino fiori.

  Sofia pressed her fingertips to her mouth that still zinged from the aftershock of Roberto’s stubble grazing her lips.

  She turned slightly to run her eyes over his svelte form, her pulse quickening as she remembered the exhilaration of his firm body pressed against her in the Baraldo kitchen. His lean thigh pushing teasingly between her legs as he’d lifted her into his embrace.

  ‘You’re staring,’ he said.

  ‘Sorry,’ she giggled, snapping her attention back to the cheering faces of their moving entourage as the carriage emerged from the cool shadowed side street and crossed into the bright expanse of Piazza della Signoria. Flocks of sightseers turned their attention to Roberto and Sofia as the carriage crossed the square towards the imposing frontage of Palazzo Vecchio.

  ‘We’re even giving Michelangelo a run for his money.’ Roberto waved to a group of tourists staring at them, distracted from their appraisal of the replica of David in front of the Palazzo.

  Sofia admired the marble statue as they passed by. ‘You know the original David was decorated with gold leaf but the outdoor elements washed it away?’

  ‘Si, I’ve heard that.’

  ‘Maybe that’s what inspired Fabrizio’s vision for you in the photo shoot.’

  ‘Are you comparing me with one of art’s greatest representations of the male form? Sofia, I’m flattered.’ He nudged her playfully.

  ‘Like you need an ego boost,’ she teased but her face flushed remembering she’d secretly made that exact comparison when she’d first seen Roberto, stunning in his golden naked splendour.

  That seemed like a lifetime ago. Roberto wasn’t the arsehole she’d thought he was. He could have taken advantage of her in Baraldo but instead he’d been thoughtful and kind. Her body yearned for more of his expert caress and she couldn’t deny... she liked him. But her chest tightened with fear at the thought of letting him under her skin.

  ‘Here we are,’ Roberto exclaimed as their horse trotted into Piazza Santa Croce.

  Set against the majestic backdrop of the shiny marble façade of the Basilica of Santa Croce, the massive square swelled with dozens of large white marquees housing a vast array of every chocolate creation imaginable: rainbows of macarons and truffles, chocolate fountains, dipped waffle sticks, cannoli, pralines, artisan sculptures... Sofia’s eyes whizzed in every direction trying to absorb it all.

  Festival visitors feasted their eyes and indulged their taste buds. Street performers dressed in the red, gold and blue striped pantaloons of traditional Florentine costumes danced as they played drums and trumpets. Children weaved excitedly through the tents, their faces painted with edible chocolate, cackling on a sugar-high as they chased each other through the stalls.

  ‘Roberto, Roberto!’ A young boy waved from a nearby tent hosting a children’s activity. ‘Look!’ He proudly held up a small chocolate-sculpted rendition of a horse.

  Roberto stared at the boy, a faraway expression clouding his sunny demeanour as though transfixed by the figure in the child’s hand.

  ‘Roberto?’ Sofia elbowed him gently, snapping him out of his daydream.

  ‘Bellissima!’ Roberto suddenly called to the boy. He leant forward and tapped the driver’s shoulder to ask him to stop the carriage.

  ‘Come.’ His eyes gleamed at Sofia. ‘Let’s take a look.’ In one swift movement he jumped down from the carriage into the welcoming crowd before turning to offer her his raised hand.

  ‘I’m okay.’ Sofia secured her wrap and hoisted her dress as she assessed her chances of a dignified dismount.

  ‘Sofia, I’ve seen your heels, don’t be proud.’

  ‘Alright,’ she said, happily convinced. Roberto encircled his broad hands around her waist and spun her with ease to the ground. She laughed as their audience w
histled with delight.

  Linking her arm through his, the crowd parted as Roberto lead them to the chocolate sculpting marquee.

  ‘Bravo piccolino.’ Roberto bowed slightly to the boy holding the chocolate horse. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Davide,’ he said, a pink hue flushing up his neck.

  ‘That’s a spectacular horse, Davide. Congratulations.’ Roberto held out his hand.

  The child beamed as they shook hands, his round cheeks now glowing red.

  ‘Per favore, Roberto. Show us?’ Davide gestured to a large block of milk chocolate on a plinth beside them.

  ‘Yes, please show us Roberto.’ Sofia grinned at him teasingly and tugged his arm.

  ‘Anything for my lady love.’ He winked at her and started to roll up his sleeves.

  ‘You’re really going to sculpt that chocolate?’ She couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice.

  ‘Certo.’ Roberto replied without hesitation. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Do we have time?’

  ‘This won’t take long.’

  A large group of curious children gathered around Roberto as he picked up a sculpting hammer and chisel. Playing for his young audience, he slowly paced around the pedestal, studying the chocolate with mock deliberation.

  Then to Sofia’s amazement, he began to chip away at the block with impressive speed and skill. As he carved into the chocolate he flicked the sweet off-cuts into the eager hands of the appreciative children.

  Sofia watched their awe-struck faces as Roberto’s sculpture evolved into the form of a clearly defined horse. They were as mesmerised by his talent as she was.

  ‘It’s nearly done.’ Roberto stood back from the plinth. ‘Davide, you finish it.’ He motioned for the young boy to come forward and offered his tools. ‘It’s yours.’

  ‘Grazie, Roberto.’ Davide’s eyes widened with gratitude as he took the tools and admired the sculpture.

  ‘Prego.’ Roberto patted the boy on the back and wrapped his arm around Sofia’s shoulder. ‘Shall we?’ He grinned at her as he guided them back towards the carriage.

  ‘That was amazing,’ she said. ‘That would have taken me... I don’t know how long. Where did you learn to do that?’

  ‘My brother showed me years ago. He was an artist.’

  ‘And a chocolatier?’

  ‘Si. But art was his passion.’

  ‘And he taught you—’ Sofia paused, distracted by her phone vibrating in her purse. Thinking it might be her sister she quickly dug it out.

  Her pulse raced as she checked the screen and immediately clicked on a message from Villa Castello. Her head reeled as she read the text.

  ‘Everything okay?’ Roberto asked.

  ‘No,’ she could barely gasp.

  * * *

  Roberto waited for the kettle to boil as he watched Sofia pace back and forth across the plush carpet of his penthouse lounge. Thankfully she’d managed to mask her distress after receiving the text message and they’d finished their carriage tour before hurrying back to the hotel. But now, though she’d changed out of her sexy gown into black yoga pants and a white singlet, she looked far from relaxed.

  ‘What the hell am I going to do? I’ve only got one tray of the cioccolatino. I need at least two hundred for the gala. I can’t make any more without the—’ she stopped herself. ‘Baraldo ingredient.’

  ‘Are sure you can’t get any more?’ he asked, ignoring the guilt that’d plagued him since they’d left the mountain. It was too late to go back now.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure,’ she snapped without looking at him. ‘It’s out of stock for the foreseeable future.’

  ‘Calm down, Sofia.’ Roberto silently advised himself to do the same as he dropped two fragrant artisan teabags into a small teapot. ‘I’m making you tea.’

  ‘Tea?’ Her head spun round at him.

  ‘Si. You said chamomile tea is soothing, yes?’

  ‘Didn’t you hear me? I can’t make the cioccolatino. I’m stuffed, Roberto. I don’t need tea. I need a miracle,’ she exclaimed raising her hands towards the ceiling.

  ‘I’m making it extra strong.’ His sing-song voice was met with an unappreciative glare. ‘Si, it’s a setback, I understand that. What’s plan B?’

  ‘Plan B?’ She looked at him incredulously. ‘There is no plan B. I don’t want plan B. It’s my mother’s cioccolatino fiori or nothing.’ Sofia stopped pacing and inhaled deeply as she closed her eyes, hands pressed together firmly in front of her as if in prayer.

  ‘Sofia?’

  ‘Shush. I’m trying to find my qi.’

  ‘Your what?’

  ‘My qi. My centre.’ She opened her eyes briefly. ‘My calm?’ She scrunched her eyelids closed again breathing loudly.

  Roberto couldn’t help smiling at her determined expression, her pursed lips and crinkled forehead; she looked anything but calm.

  ‘It is working?’ He poured the hot water into the teapot, the floral-scented steam reminding him of their kitchen in Baraldo and the way Sofia’s eyes sparkled as she’d explained its calming effects.

  Exhaling loudly she flopped onto the velvet sofa. ‘Who am I kidding? Bloody qi. I need medication.’ She dropped her head into her hands, rubbing her temples in circular motions.

  ‘Sofia, it’s okay. We’ll think of something.’ Roberto had been thinking about a plan B for Sofia ever since he’d visited Villa Castello. He’d finally deciphered the mysterious code in his notebook that had eluded him for the last twenty-five years.

  The potent nectar of the rare ornella wildflower was the final piece in a puzzle that promised a Conti chocolate sensation worthy of his father’s admiration and his brother’s memory. Roberto wasn’t foolish enough to hope for his mother’s forgiveness or even her love. But maybe he’d see a glimmer of recognition back in her distant eyes.

  Roberto kept telling himself he had no choice but he’d vowed Sofia wouldn’t suffer as a result of his actions.

  ‘It’s not your problem Roberto.’ She lifted her head from her hands to look at him. ‘I was stupid to invest so much in one product. But it was good wasn’t it? The cioccolatino? I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever created. Watching you savour it. I just knew, it was special, right?’

  ‘Si.’ Roberto’s heart ached at the shaking humility in Sofia’s voice and knowing he’d taken something so precious from her.

  ‘I should have known it was too good to be true,’ she said. ‘Now I have nothing for the gala and I’ll lose my spot at the San Remo flower festival.’

  ‘The flower festival?’

  ‘Fabrizio has designed a float for the parade, Annabella arranged for me to ride on it with him to promote the cioccolatino.’

  ‘Can’t you promote a different chocolate?’

  ‘The cioccolatino is... floral inspired. That’s how we secured the promo spot. I put all my focus on that one chocolate, I have nothing else.’

  ‘There’s still time. I have no doubt you can create something better. Something that’s unique to you. Your whole career has been a celebration of your mother’s work and redeeming her reputation. You’ve honoured her memory. Now it’s your turn.’

  ‘My turn?’ Sofia sneered. ‘My body’s incapable of creating anything new. We both know that. I was caught up in some sort of fantasy in Baraldo where I was a master chocolatier again and you weren’t the enemy.’

  ‘I’m not the enemy, Sofia.’ Roberto longed to believe his own words. He didn’t want to hurt Sofia but he knew if he followed through with his plan she’d never forgive him. His heart clenched with pain and guilt hearing her second-guess herself and question her ability. The very least he could do was help her find a way out of this mess.

  ‘Working with you was the closest I’ve come to thinking my anosmia didn’t matter,’ she said. ‘But we’re back in the real world now. You’re not the enemy.’ She smiled at him weakly. ‘And I’m not a master chocolatier anymore. I was an idiot to think I could just ignore my anosmia. It’s alw
ays there.’ She slumped back into the sofa exhaling loudly.

  Roberto picked up the teapot and placed it next to a cup and saucer on the glass coffee table in front of her. ‘Maybe that’s the answer.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Create a chocolate that only you are capable of creating.’ He sat on the armchair beside her as he poured the tea. ‘Chocolate for anosmiacs.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You said you still get the chemical high from eating chocolate. It’s pleasurable, no?’ Sofia nodded. ‘And you can detect some flavours, chilli, salt. Not to mention a range of textural elements.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘You’re not the only one with this condition. You say you can’t ignore it. So embrace it. Let it help you create something original and exciting.’

  ‘And let the world know I have anosmia? It would ruin my career. What’s left of it.’

  ‘You don’t have to tell the world about your condition to use it as inspiration. You can make something sublime that everyone will enjoy, anosmiacs included. Something so intense it engages all the senses.’

  ‘I can’t do it in the Bonaparte’s kitchen. They’re expecting the cioccolatino. Annabella might find out and she’s doing so well at the moment. I can’t stress her out.’

  ‘I’ll help you make it here. When you’ve perfected your masterpiece, as I have no doubt you will, you can tell Annabella the good news.’

  ‘And collaborate with a Conti? I don’t think that will go down well with anyone.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be a collaboration; I’d never expect you to do that. I’ll help with the balance of flavours like before but everything else would be up to you... A Sofia Beaumont original.’

  ‘Chocolate for anosmiacs.’ Sofia stared at the teacup as she considered the idea before flicking her forlorn gaze back at Roberto. ‘It’d be like accepting that’s who I am.’

  ‘It is who you are. Maybe not forever, but for now. Be inspired by it, don’t be afraid of it.’

  ‘I guess...’ Sofia’s mouth lifted at the corners slightly. ‘I guess it could work.’ She looked at him uncertainly. ‘But is there enough time? To create a recipe, source ingredients…’