Only for Show

by Charlotte Marigold

  The layer of silken grappa ganache soon relented to Sofia’s eager tongue as the liquor filling burst with glorious intensity. Euphoria infused her blood as the textural symphony whisked her back to Roberto’s penthouse terrace when she’d come alive in his arms. Completely fulfilled.

  Sofia wished she’d held him tighter and absorbed his essence into her latent senses so she might conjure him up now. To—with just an inhalation of his fragrance and the taste of her grappatino—be able to imagine him with her, together, blissfully happy in each other’s embrace. No pain, no lies. Before everything had fallen apart.

  Opening her sodden eyes, she dug a tissue from her apron pocket to soak up the deluge of tears streaming down her cheeks. But they continued to flow and she sank feebly to the floor, elation inevitably giving way to the sorrow that had consumed her since she’d written her final goodbye to Roberto.

  She should be on cloud nine and her time with him a fading memory. But his absence only amplified the aching emptiness growing steadily inside her. Cowering on the plush carpet in Bonaparte’s, surrounded by the fruits of her success and her senses finally firing on full throttle, she’d never felt more broken. Sofia missed Roberto like he was her lifeblood.

  She thought of his letter tucked into the side of the box on the counter above her. She couldn’t bring herself to throw it away. He’d told her he loved her. Had he meant it? Did he love her still?

  She reached up into the drawer for another grappatino. She closed her eyes and bit forcefully into the chocolate, its rich centre flooding her senses and igniting memories she never wanted to forget. Rolling the luscious confection around her mouth, she surrendered helplessly to her heartbreak. She did want the fairytale after all.

  * * *

  Roberto thrust out his chest, trying for a sophisticated, manly stance. His mind scrambled for reassurance as he studied his reflection in the large dressing room mirror in the penthouse suite at The Grand San Remo Hotel.

  ‘Trust me.’ Fabrizio adjusted the sheer, gold lamé cape around Roberto’s shoulders, exposing even more of his bare chest. ‘You said go big, right?’

  ‘Si. But...’ Roberto wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he’d approached Fabrizio for a favour but he’d known he’d be pushed way out of his comfort zone. That was exactly what he needed if he was going to prove his love to Sofia.

  His blood pressure soared at the prospect of what he was about to do. Totally unguarded. His mother had ordered Vittorio to stall the announcement of his break-up with Sofia. But their contract was over; she wasn’t obliged to love him back.

  ‘And with me, more is more.’ Fabrizio carefully lifted a lavish garland of wild flowers over Roberto’s head, carefully positioning it around his neck. ‘You need to stand out, va bene?’

  Roberto cleared his throat. ‘I definitely won’t be missed in this.’

  Fabrizio beamed, crossing his arms as he stood back, scanning him from head to toe. ‘Magnifico! You look amazing, bello.’ He clasped his hands together, satisfied with his work.

  ‘Are you sure my hair’s not too...’

  ‘I love this bed head look on you. Not so... stiff. It’s sexy. Like Oberon out to seduce his Titania,’ Fabrizio said gleefully as he reached up and ruffled his fingers with grand flourish through Roberto’s wavy hair. ‘Just like you wanted. Letting loose, no?’

  ‘That’s the idea.’ Roberto clenched his fists, resisting the overwhelming urge to comb his hair back into his usual perfectly coiffed style. ‘Have you heard from her?’ He couldn’t temper the nerves in his voice.

  ‘Si.’ Fabrizio smiled kindly at Roberto’s reflection as he continued to finesse his hair. ‘I’m going to meet her as planned. Don’t worry, bello. You’ll be wonderful.’

  ‘Grazie, Fabrizio.’

  ‘Prego. I’m a romantic don’t you know.’

  A sharp knock on the penthouse door snapped Fabrizio’s attention away from Roberto. ‘That’ll be your headpiece.’ He clapped his hands excitedly as he dashed from the dressing room.

  ‘My what?’ Another wave of nerves seized Roberto’s belly.

  ‘The pièce de résistance,’ Fabrizio called from the lounge room.

  Roberto faced the mirror again and exhaled loudly. He barely recognised his reflected self, literally stripped of his armour. His designer suit that Sofia had told him he wore like a shield against the world swapped for outlandish fantasy.

  ‘Here it is!’ Fabrizio proudly presented Roberto with a flamboyant towering crown of rainbow coloured wild flowers. ‘Isn’t it glorious? I had a mini-one made for me too, it’s so fabulous.’

  Roberto couldn’t help but laugh at his reflection as Fabrizio perched on a small stool to pin the elaborate crown on top of his flyaway hair completing his transformation from buttoned-up CEO to willingly exposed Fairy King. Sofia’s defiant words roused in Roberto’s head: Go big, or go home.

  * * *

  Sofia tossed her head back, her tousled hair brushed over her bare shoulders down to her waist as she filled her lungs with the aromatic spring air of the San Remo flower festival. Eyes closed, shutting out the buoyant crowd that swelled around her, her mind raced to isolate each vibrant fragrance of the countless flowers infusing the gentle afternoon sea breeze.

  It’d been two weeks since the burst of jasmine had jolted her back to life. But she was still hyper aware of every smell, afraid if she took her senses for granted they might disappear as suddenly as they’d returned. Sofia didn’t want to miss one single sensation, good or bad, in case it was her last.

  But not even the invigorating scent of fresh gardenias and freesias or the evocative flavours of her mother’s recipes could distract her from the dull pain writhing relentlessly in her stomach. As she identified each floral scent stimulating her nose, she couldn’t help wondering if it was the source of Roberto’s cologne. Elderflower? Violet? Damask rose?

  ‘So-fi-a.’ She jumped at the sound of Fabrizio’s sing-song voice beside her.

  ‘Fabrizio!’ She kissed him warmly on each cheek, comforted by his familiar face in the crowd of strangers. ‘You’re here.’

  ‘Sorry I’m late bella. How are you?’ He swayed restlessly on the spot as though dancing to a tune only he could hear.

  ‘I think you’re more excited than I am,’ Sofia laughed.

  ‘I am excited, bella. The sun is shining, the flowers are blooming. And my date is a knock-out, no? I love this gown on you.’ He stood back to admire the colourful floral embroidery on Sofia’s long emerald raw-silk dress.

  ‘You chose well Fabrizio, I feel just like a Fairy Queen.’ Sofia tilted her head coquettishly. ‘You look fabulous too. And our headpieces match.’ She gestured to Fabrizio’s vibrant floral crown, a perfect companion piece to the garland of multicoloured wildflowers pinned around her flowing hair.

  ‘Of course. I’m no Roberto but I’m thrilled to be your Fairy King today.’ Fabrizio winked, offering his elbow to Sofia.

  ‘The pleasure’s mine.’ She looped her arm through his. ‘Thank you for dressing up and filling in,’ she whispered, leaning in to Fabrizio’s ear as he lead them through the growing crowd toward a raised viewing platform cordoned off from spectators.

  ‘This?’ Fabrizio jiggled in his bright floral-patterned silk harem suit, complete with gold genie booties. ‘Bello, no?’

  ‘It’s spectacular,’ Sofia giggled. ‘Just as well Roberto isn’t here, he never would’ve agreed to wear that costume.’ Her laugh dissolved as her mouth constricted at the mention of his name.

  ‘Darling, this is one of a kind, made just for me.’ Fabrizio patted her hand on the crook of his arm. ‘I’d be wearing this anyway.’

  ‘Thank you for letting me change back to our original plan, I know you hoped he’d be here too.’

  ‘Certo. Your cioccolatino fiori is perfect for today. Did you find my fairy helpers okay?’

  ‘Yes, I just dropped off the samples to them.’

  ‘And those?’ Fabrizio pointed to t
he small wicker basket clutched in Sofia’s hand.

  ‘These are a special edition.’

  ‘Brava.’ Fabrizio grinned and checked his watch as they arrived at the base of the platform. ‘Quickly bella, it’s almost time.’ He unclipped the red velvet rope and stepped aside to let Sofia pass. ‘To your throne my queen.’

  ‘Grazie.’ Sofia lifted her dress and climbed the narrow metal stairs onto the small stage. Two large armchairs were adorned with generous floral arrangements. Gardenias, lavender, hyacinths, marigolds, lilies... Sofia’s nose zinged delightedly at the onslaught of spring’s key players.

  But as she sank onto the plush velvet cushion on her chair, her heart dropped at the sight of the empty seat beside her. She envisaged Roberto sitting there in the glorious sunshine, warming her heart with his smile as he savoured the little chocolates in her basket. She imagined him drawing her into his arms, surrounded by the merry sounds of the festival, as they dreamed of a future together.

  ‘Good view, no?’ Fabrizio’s animated voice thankfully interrupted Sofia’s thoughts before her fantasy exploded into tears. Again.

  She followed Fabrizio’s gaze to the spectacular floral displays lining the seafront promenade, their brilliant colours amplified against the sapphire backdrop of the sparkling Ligurian Sea.

  ‘It’s beautiful.’ Sofia sniffed briskly desperate to clear her head. But Roberto was constantly on her mind; his absence felt everywhere. She shifted in her seat and scanned the burgeoning crowd around the stage and along the seafront for a sign of him.

  Roberto knew she’d be here today and Vittorio still hadn’t publicly announced their break-up. Sofia couldn’t suppress the flutter of hope that any moment he might arrive and fill the empty seat beside her as well as the gaping hole in her heart.

  ‘Sofia, prego!’ A young man within a pack of photographers called up from beside the platform.

  ‘Prego.’ Sofia tried to sound enthusiastic as she straightened in her seat and summoned a smile, welcoming the journalists to take her photo.

  ‘Dove è Roberto?’ A petite woman asked as she aimed her massive camera lens up at Sofia.

  ‘He’s...’ Stupidly she hadn’t prepared herself for the obvious question. Where is Roberto? She wished she knew.

  ‘He’ll be here.’ Fabrizio called down. ‘But what am I? Chopped liver?’ He posed theatrically for his photo to be taken before sitting in the chair beside Sofia.

  ‘Is he really coming?’ she whispered to Fabrizio, her heartbeat shifting to overdrive.

  ‘We hope, no?’ His knowing eyes shone at her sympathetically. ‘At least now they’ll leave us alone for a while.’ He nodded his head towards the photographers who’d shifted their attention down the promenade in anticipation of the start of the famous flower float parade.

  Sofia’s eyes skimmed the crowd again but still no sign of Roberto. She sat back in her seat, her letter to him springing to the forefront of her mind with torturous clarity. Please accept this letter as our last goodbye. She longed to take back the words she’d written in a fog of hurt and shame.

  ‘Che bello,’ Fabrizio’s sudden cheer jerked Sofia from her thoughts. He was clapping excitedly and straining forward to catch a glimpse of the first float as it made its way along the far end of the promenade.

  A lively brass band dressed as the seven dwarves led the procession followed by a floral incarnation of the Enchanted Forest. A beaming Snow White waved regally to the crowd from atop the elaborate float: a fantastical technicolour wonderland showcasing the dwarves’ cottage, the wicked queen holding a giant novelty apple made of red roses. And of course a handsome prince standing lovingly by Snow White’s side.

  Sofia silently admonished herself for envying the anti-feminist fairytale. She drummed her fingertips impatiently on the timber armrests of her chair, trying to distract herself from the nerves that squirmed incessantly inside her.

  He wasn’t coming. She imagined the tabloids the following day, photos of her sitting desolate on her fairy throne, the empty chair beside her. Cinderella’s lost her Prince! No happily ever after for Princess Sofia.

  ‘Look!’ Fabrizio tapped her shoulder frantically distracting her from her self-imposed torment. ‘Mine’s coming next.’

  Sofia leant forward and peered along the esplanade as another magical forest on wheels floated towards them in the distance. A huge heart-shaped canopy dripping with luscious verdant foliage shaded a central moss-covered stage. Fabrizio’s fairy helpers danced cheekily around the base of the float, handing out Sofia’s cioccolatino fiori to the spectators eagerly reaching over the temporary barricades.

  ‘It’s magnificent, Fabrizio,’ Sofia said before turning to scan the crowd again, unable to extinguish the hope that it wasn’t too late. Roberto still might show up.

  ‘Look Sofia.’ Fabrizio squeezed her hand, noticing her distraction. ‘Look at my masterpiece.’

  ‘It really is amazing.’ Feigning enthusiasm she shifted to the edge of her seat and looked back at his float. She squinted, trying to focus on a golden blur that swayed onto the stage under a towering crown, like an extravagant floral version of Carmen Miranda’s famous fruit headpiece. ‘Is that... a man?’

  ‘Si.’ Fabrizio grinned at her with wide-eyed excitement. ‘Keep looking.’

  Sofia glanced at him uncertainly then back at the slowly advancing forest. The familiar intro of her favourite Nat King Cole song started to blare from speakers concealed within vivid arrangements of bright fuchsia, gold and lilac wildflowers, getting louder as the float approached.

  Adrenaline rushed through Sofia as a smooth baritone, edged with a tremor of nerves, crooned the opening line of ‘L.O.V.E.’, the same one she’d sung to Roberto in Baraldo a lifetime ago.

  ‘Is that... Roberto?’

  ‘Si!’ Fabrizio was almost jumping out of his chair.

  Sofia gripped the sides of her seat as she leant further forward, straining to make sense of what on earth she was looking at. ‘What is he wearing?’

  ‘He looks hilarious, doesn’t he?’ Fabrizio laughed, clasping his hands together. ‘Sexy for sure, but hilarious, no? So unlike him.’

  Sofia’s jaw dropped at the sight of Roberto’s astonishing outfit, flashing from within his translucent cape. Glittering pyjama-style pants hung loosely from his tanned narrow hips, the sheer fabric exposing the leather straps on his matching Roman sandals crisscrossing up his calves.

  A golden god once more. But this time performing live for the world to see, shining in the dappled sunlight under a massive love heart, swaying in time to the music as he... sang?

  ‘I can’t believe that’s him... singing,’ Sofia said incredulously.

  Roberto performed with growing confidence, removing his microphone from its stand as he swaggered around the mossy stage. The enraptured crowd hollered wildly as he passionately spelt out each reason for love from the famous acrostic song.

  ‘Not bad, huh?’ Fabrizio’s head spun in each direction, clearly torn between the spectacle of Roberto’s performance and Sofia’s gob-smacked reaction.

  She was lost for words as Roberto’s heart-felt declaration resonated loudly over the cheering audience. His eyes locked with hers as the float approached her viewing platform. He raised his hand towards her as he sang the final line of the verse. A promise of love.

  Sofia froze, her heart beating a rhapsody at the sight of Roberto who looked so foreign in his crazy costume yet so familiar. Beneath his wild hairdo and flamboyant outfit was the man she’d fallen in love with. Exhilaration spiralled through her, igniting every nerve as Roberto gazed at her, proclaiming he loved her too.

  Tears threatened but Sofia couldn’t help laughing as a swing band dressed as fairy cupids sprang up behind Roberto to play the instrumental. He stepped aside as they took centre stage, but he didn’t take his eyes off Sofia.

  ‘What do you think?’ She heard Fabrizio’s hyper voice beside her, but she didn’t shift her focus from Roberto.

  ‘Do
you think he realises his costume is see-through?’ she asked.

  ‘That’s what he wanted, isn’t it fabulous?’

  ‘Yes.’ Sofia laughed shaking her head in disbelief at Roberto. His toned physique shone brilliantly through the transparent fabric of his Fairy King outfit. Her body rejoiced instinctively, remembering the thrilling sensation of that muscular perfection encapsulating her. But her mind struggled to comprehend what the hell was going on.

  As the float came to a standstill in front of the platform Roberto signalled to the musicians to stop playing. Sofia hovered on the edge of her seat, her hands clenching the armrests as her stomach rolled in a continuous somersault.

  ‘Buongiorno tutti, sono Roberto Conti.’ He called to the enchanted crowd. Their cheers exploded down the esplanade before hushing to an expectant rumble.

  ‘You’re not used to seeing me like this, but today I wanted to prove to the love of my life that I’m not afraid to take risks anymore. I stand here, completely exposed.’ Laughter rippled through the captivated crowd as Roberto turned in a circle holding out his translucent cape, his svelte figure clearly defined from top to toe.

  He stopped turning as he faced Sofia again, his arms slung by his sides, his broad smile subdued as his soulful eyes captured hers once more.

  ‘And my heart...’ His voice cracked, the bravado of his performance replaced by pained sincerity. ‘Completely exposed, to tell you, Sofia Beaumont...’ He lifted one hand against his chest. ‘How much I love you.’

  Roberto looked at her longingly, her own aching vulnerability reflected in his tender eyes. Clutching her basket, Sofia’s blood pulsed wildly as she forced herself to stand. Thankful for her flat sandals as her legs trembled, she slowly stepped to the edge of the stage.

  ‘How much?’ Her mouth was so dry she could barely speak the words.

  ‘She asked how much?’ Fabrizio yelled hysterically to the riveted crowd.

  ‘More than I ever thought possible.’ Without breaking eye contact, Roberto strode across the float, stopping only metres from Sofia. ‘I love you more than my ambition, more than my pride.’ He gestured with raised eyebrows to his headpiece. ‘More than chocolate.’