by Jayne Castel
Sabrina put down the slice of pizza margherita she’d been about to take a bite of and shook her head in amazement. “Don’t tell me it’s like this every night?”
“It is… sometimes worse.”
“But it’s only Monday night.”
“I know, but Ai Marmi is a Roman institution—it never has a slow day.”
Sabrina gazed around her at the sea of bobbing heads. The aroma of baking pizza wafted across the terrace from the packed restaurant. Adriano had taken her to Pizzeria Ai Marmi, in Trastevere—so named for the marble tabletops inside. They’d had a fifteen minute wait until a table for two came free, but when Sabrina took her first mouthful of pizza, she realized the wait had been worth it. The pizza was delicious, and thin-crust—Roman-style.
Her gaze shifted then to Adriano, who was working his way through his pizza with elegant dexterity. Like the other Italians around him, he ate it with his hands. He’d told her it tasted better that way, and she had to agree with him.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she said when they were half-way through their pizzas, “about your TV career.”
Adriano raised an eyebrow. “What do you want to know?”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“BestChef Italia is good fun,” he replied with a smile, “and it’s a break from my restaurants. We finished filming the last season back in April, so I’ve got a few months’ break before we start again. It’s about to air on TV.”
“I know,” she replied with a teasing smile. “I saw an ad for it a few weeks ago.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“I must admit, you’re intimidating.”
He snorted. “You’ve never been afraid of me.”
“How do you know that?”
He gave her a long, searching look. “You do know it’s all an act, don’t you?”
“What—your overbearing manner?”
His mouth quirked. “Nice guys get walked over. People work better for you, if they’re a little scared.”
“Is that the secret to your success then?”
He shrugged. “Part of it—that and hard work.”
Sabrina’s smile faded. “You’ve achieved a lot, Adriano.”
He took a sip of beer and regarded her silently a moment before answering.
“I have . . . but there’s a price to pay.” He paused, his expression tightening slightly, as if considering whether to keep talking. “My wife and I weren’t suited, but my obsession with work didn’t help matters. I spent so much time away from her, I didn’t notice how unhappy she was until it was too late.”
Sabrina nodded. She understood how work could destroy relationships; her father’s dedication to his private investigation business had damaged his marriage long before it destroyed his health.
“Your sister worries about you, doesn’t she?” Sabrina asked, finally.
“She does … and she’s right. Luca should be living with me.”
“She’s very protective of you—I take it she’s the older sibling?”
Adriano smiled. “Seven years older.”
“She doesn’t look old enough to have a son in his early twenties.”
“She had Daniele when she was a teenager,” Adriano replied. “She was in her last year of high school when she got pregnant.”
“And the father?”
Adriano shook his head. “They were kids. They went their separate ways soon after graduating. Daniele’s dad—Carlo—lives in Florence now, and has a family of his own.”
Sabrina shook her head. “Valentina’s never remarried?”
Adriano chuckled. “She’s had plenty of offers, but in case you didn’t notice my sister is a force of nature—it’ll take a brave man to tame her.”
Sabrina took a bite of pizza and chewed slowly, mulling over his words. “So, are you going to start making changes, so Luca can live with you?”
Adriano’s gaze widened slightly at her directness, before he smiled. “What would I do with my time, if I wasn’t working?”
Sabrina smiled back. “I don’t know. Spend time with your son, with your family . . . take up a hobby.”
“Spend long days in bed with you …”
Sabrina held his gaze, heat that had nothing to do with the sultry evening rising up within her. “See, you wouldn’t end up bored.”
Adriano grimaced. “You’re right, of course. God knows, Valentina’s gone on at me about it long enough. Maybe, it’s time for some changes.”
They finished their pizzas and ordered espressos. Adriano then flagged a passing waiter down for the bill, and they freed up their table for another couple, who’d been waiting patiently near the doors.
Arm in arm, they strolled the narrow lanes of Trastevere. They crossed the quarter’s central square, Santa Maria in Trastevere. A wolf’s head fountain dominated the center of the piazza, although the gorgeous church in the corner drew Sabrina’s eye. Illuminated in gold, a detailed fresco covered the façade that glowed in the floodlights sitting under it.
Adriano and Sabrina left Trastevere behind and crossed the Tiber over Ponte Sisto, a cobbled footbridge. Here, a man played the saxophone, the haunting notes drifting into the night. Adriano and Sabrina stopped to listen to the musician before Adriano tossed him some coins, and they continued on their way.
They had just entered the historic center, when Adriano turned to her with a smile. “I forgot to tell you—I’ve been invited to a television awards gala on Friday night.”
Sabrina smiled back. “That sounds impressive. Congratulations!”
“I’ve been told I can bring a guest … would you be interested?”
Sabrina gasped. “Really? You’re inviting me?”
He laughed. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
Sabrina flushed, delighted by the invitation. She’d never been to a gala before and had no idea what to expect. “I’d love to … thank you.”
Adriano’s smile widened at her enthusiasm. “It’s black-tie so make sure you dress up.”
Sabrina grinned at him, her thoughts racing forward to the outfit she’d wear. She hadn’t worn a gown since her high school prom.
“Don’t worry about that,” she assured him. “What woman needs an excuse to go shopping?”
Chapter Eighteen
Later that week, as Sabrina waited for Adriano to pick her up for the awards gala, she was no longer excited. A string of emails from Helen Bellini had put her on edge. Her stomach cramped as she read the latest one.
You can’t just ignore me. I’m not letting this go. I’m going to see what you’ve been up to for myself.
What did the woman mean by that? It sounded threatening. It sounded as if she was going to get on a plane and turn up on Sabrina’s doorstep.
God, no.
Sabrina snapped her laptop shut and began to pace the tiled floor of her studio, her high strappy sandals clicking on the terracotta. Helen couldn’t come here.
Calm down.
Sabrina stopped in front of the mirror and nervously smoothed down the long black dress she’d bought for tonight. Her palms were sweating, and she felt sick. The longer she spent in Adriano’s company, the harder it was getting to imagine ever betraying him. She’d hoped by ignoring Helen’s emails, her client would give her some space, but the opposite had happened. Now, the woman was breathing down her neck.
Adriano had become Sabrina’s world. They spent every spare moment together. He’d stayed at her apartment nearly every night this week, although she had yet to visit his. She’d never done with so little sleep in her life, or felt so alive as a result of it.
The intercom buzzed and Sabrina took a deep, calming breath. She had to put Helen Bellini out of her mind. She’d been looking forward to this evening, to walking into that gala on Adriano’s arm. He’d paid her a huge compliment by inviting her; she didn’t want to disappoint him.
The buzzer sounded again and, grabbing her black sparkly beaded purse, Sabrina went to answer it.
&
nbsp; Adriano’s breathing stopped when he saw Sabrina. She stepped outside and pulled the door to her palazzo shut behind her.
She was beautiful, he already knew that, but in that gown—a shimmering black sheath with a plunging neckline—she looked like a siren. He stared at her, mesmerized. He was tempted to take her back inside, peel that dress off her, and forget all about the gala.
“Buonasera,” she greeted him with a shy smile. “Do I look alright?”
“Alright? You look good enough to eat.”
She rewarded him with a blush. Her gaze shifted to the gleaming Mercedes parked behind him. “What, no scooter tonight?”
“In that dress?” He grinned at her. “I thought you deserved to be transported in style.”
Tearing his gaze away from Sabrina, he opened the passenger door for her. She stepped close to him, the light floral scent she wore enveloping him, and kissed him gently on the lips before she got into the car.
Adriano inhaled deeply. Even after a passion-filled week, he couldn’t get enough of her. He wasn’t sure he ever would.
Minutes later, Adriano maneuvered the Mercedes out of the winding streets of the historic center and onto the main thoroughfare heading south. Dusk was settling in a golden veil over the city, after another hot day. To the west, the sky blazed red. The traffic was heavy, as Rome’s rush hour actually lasted from around 5pm until 9pm. As the Mercedes crawled its way south, Adriano stole glances at his companion. Sabrina sat looking out the window. She seemed distracted.
“Is something up?” he asked.
She blinked, coming out of her reverie, and flashed him a bright smile. “No, I was just thinking about my life back in New York.”
“Surely, wrapping it up and starting again in Rome isn’t so hard?”
She shrugged. “I guess not …”
He pulled up at the traffic lights and gave her his full attention for a few moments. “Is something else worrying you?”
She gave a nervous laugh. “I’ve just got stage fright, that’s all. I’ve never been to an event like this before. What if I trip over while we’re making our grand entrance?”
Adriano smiled before easing the Mercedes through the intersection. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.”
***
An explosion of flash bulbs blinded Sabrina as she exited from the car. She winced and only just prevented herself from covering her eyes with her hand. A moment later, Adriano was there, at her side, guiding her up the red carpet in between the jostling crowd of paparazzi and reporters. Behind them, a valet whisked the Mercedes away to the underground parking lot, while a hulking white structure loomed before them.
“I’ve never seen a building like it,” she commented, craning her neck to take in the austere façade.
“It comes from the Fascist era,” Adriano replied. “Not the most beautiful architecture Rome has to offer but imposing nonetheless.”
The feel of his hand, gently cupping her elbow, was reassuring. True to his word, Adriano did not let her trip, even when they had to scale a row of steps to reach the building’s colonnaded entrance. The commotion around them intimidated Sabrina. However, Adriano handled it all with cool aplomb.
Inside, they stepped into a cool, ivory space with a cathedral-like ceiling. Massive glittering chandeliers hung overhead, and the sound of classical jazz reached them.
“It’s another world,” Sabrina whispered as they stepped into a room large enough to encompass an entire building. She then stole a glance at Adriano. “I suppose you’re used to it?”
He shook his head, his gaze shuttered. “You never get used to it—however it helps not to take any of it seriously.”
Sabrina raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“None of this is real.” Adriano motioned to the sumptuous surroundings, and the sea of men and women in sparkling gowns and tuxedos. “It’s all put on for show—the reality is a lot less glamorous.”
“Really?” Sabrina looked around her with fresh eyes, wondering if Adriano’s observations were true, or just those of a cynic. She watched him retrieve two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and saw that he too had slipped into a role—that of the urbane man of the world. Gone was the carefree, passionate lover of the last week. Adriano Bellini was certainly an enigma; one she was intrigued to know more about.
They mingled for a while among the crowd. Sabrina followed Adriano as he greeted a number of acquaintances and those he’d worked with in the past. He introduced her to all of them, and Sabrina saw the curiosity on their faces, especially the women.
By the time they took their seats for dinner, Sabrina was exhausted. She couldn’t remember half the names of people she’d been introduced to.
“You know all those people?” she asked.
He smiled. “Of course—success is all about who you know.”
Sabrina gave an unladylike snort. “You really are a cynic.”
His smiled faded, and their gazes held. “I suppose these events bring out that side of me,” he admitted. “I just wanted to cook, to create, to bring people joy through food but once I got well known that wasn’t enough. You have to play the game, if you want to stay at the top.”
Sabrina pulled a face. “Sounds exhausting.”
“Only if you fight it.”
A waiter appeared at Sabrina’s shoulder flourishing a bottle of Pinot Grigio. “Would you like some wine, signorina?”
Sabrina smiled at him. “Yes, thank you.” He filled her glass and moved on to Adriano. After the waiter’s departure, Adriano met her gaze once more.
“I’m sorry if I come across as harsh sometimes,” he said softly. “It’s hard to break a habit of a lifetime. I guess it’s true what they say about money not being able to buy happiness.”
Sabrina watched him a moment. Then, she placed a hand over his, butterflies dancing in her belly at the touch of his skin. “You’re not happy?”
His gaze held hers. “When I’m with you I am—you put everything into perspective.”
His answer made her feel all hot and flustered. She was relieved when he changed the subject. “I’m glad to see that your view of the world isn’t as dark as mine?”
“I’m too practical,” she admitted, “although as a teenager I was something of a dreamer.”
“Not anymore then?”
Sabrina shook her head and looked away. Unbidden, thoughts of her true purpose here in Rome had just intruded, shattering the moment.
No, these days I’m just a liar.
She’d been mulling over her predicament in the car, on the way to the gala. Did she continue with the case, or abandon it? And if she chose her heart over her head—what then? There was no way she could tell Adriano about why she’d come to Rome and ended up working in his restaurant. She was going to have to find a way to extricate herself from this mess without him ever knowing—otherwise she risked losing him.
“Sabrina?” Just like in the car, Adriano had noted her change in mood. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she replied quickly, forcing a smile. “I was only thinking that life was easier when I was a dreamer. It made the world magical, full of possibility.”
He raised his glass in a toast and waited for her to do the same.
“Here’s to that then,” he said, his expression serious. “To a world full of possibility.”
Chapter Nineteen
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of rich dishes, flowing wine and endless speeches. Halfway through the event, Adriano was called to the stage to present a donation to charity.
Sabrina watched him, darkly handsome in his tuxedo, make his way through the field of circular tables. She saw the way some of the women hungrily eyed him and felt a thrill of pleasure in the knowledge he’d chosen to bring her with him. He carried himself will ease, as if he attended galas like this on a weekly basis. Despite that she knew the truth of how he felt about them, Sabrina couldn’t help but be impressed with how he handled himself.
/> The compere, a short balding man with a thick moustache, introduced Adriano to the crowd. “Signori e Signore, please welcome Adriano Bellini to the stage.”
A thunderous applause ensued. Sabrina watched Adriano cock his head slightly and smile, taking it all in his stride.
When the clapping and cheering had died down, the compere continued. “Adriano has achieved more in the last ten years than most of us do in a life time. Four Michelin-starred restaurants to his name, a growing food empire and a TopChef Italia judge—he’s also given his time and money to charity. And now, hundreds of young Italians have a chance to train as chefs thanks to the new training restaurant he’s helping fund in Rome.”
Another deafening burst of applause shook the hall, and Sabrina joined them. She’d no idea of this venture; Adriano hadn’t said a word. She hadn’t realized he was a philanthropist—Adriano Bellini was indeed full of surprises.
By midnight, fatigue was starting to press down on Sabrina. It had been a busy week at the restaurant—and an evening spent socializing with Rome’s elite had exhausted her.
“Let’s get out of here,” Adriano whispered in her ear.
Sabrina nodded, smiling in relief. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Outside, the evening was balmy, the humid air like warm silk upon her bare arms. They waited on the terrace while the valet retrieved their car. Adriano stood next to her, his arm looped possessively over her shoulders. She leaned against him, breathing in the musk of his skin.
“You never said anything about your charity work,” she said, finally, smiling up at him. “You’re a dark horse.”
He smiled back. “I prefer to see it as giving young cooks a chance to make something of their lives. Italy has one of the highest unemployment rates in Europe. Most of our best talent ends up leaving. If I can do something to help, I will. ”