The Playboy of Rome

by Jennifer Faye

There was a determined set of her jaw as she nodded. He didn’t want to admit it, but he admired the way she stuck by her commitments, even if she didn’t want to be around him. But there was something more. He peered closer at her, noticing the shadows beneath her eyes.

  “You don’t need to waste your time in here.” He didn’t want her wearing herself out on his behalf. “You should get some sleep since you...you were up most of the night. I don’t need you walking around here in a sleep-filled haze.”

  “I’ll be fine. I...I don’t sleep much.”

  He wasn’t going to argue with her. If she found some sort of comfort in sorting through this mound of paperwork that stretched back more years than he wanted to know, why should he stop her?

  “Fine. Sort through as many papers as you like.”

  Her brows lifted as her eyes widened. “You mean it?”

  “Sure. But I do have one question. How do you plan to sort everything when it’s in Italian?”

  She shrugged. “I’ll muddle through. I took Italian in school.”

  And yet another surprise. They just kept coming, and without the aid of caffeine, he had problems keeping the surprise from filtering onto his face. He scrubbed his hand over his head, not caring that he was making a mess of his hair.

  He noticed the eager look on her face. “Whatever. It has to be done soon anyway if I plan to...”

  “Plan to what?”

  He couldn’t believe that he’d almost blurted out his plans to sell the ristorante. He hadn’t even discussed it with Nonno. There was just something about Lizzie that put him at ease and had him feeling as though he could discuss anything. But obviously the feeling didn’t go both ways.

  “Once there’s room, I was planning to move the business files I have upstairs in my study down here.”

  “Understood.” She gave him a pointed look. “Before you go, we really should talk about last night—”

  “It was late. Neither of us were thinking clearly. It’s best if we forget about it. We still have to work together.”

  Her mouth gaped but no words came out. The look in her eyes said there were plenty of thoughts racing round in her mind, but that wasn’t his problem. By admitting it’d been a mistake, he’d beaten her to the punch. That was fine with him.

  He refused to think about how she’d discarded him and his lovemaking so readily. Soon she’d be gone. He’d just have to figure out how they could avoid each other as much as possible between now and then.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  PRETEND IT HADN’T HAPPENED?

  Was he kidding? The thought ricocheted through Lizzie’s mind for about the thousandth time since Dante had spoken the words. His solution was paramount to pretending there wasn’t a thousand-pound pink polka-dot elephant in the room. Impossible.

  How could he just forget their lovemaking?

  As the days rolled into weeks, he acted as though that earth-moving night had never happened. And he didn’t leave her any room to explain or make amends. He only interacted with her on a minimal basis. The easy friendship they’d developed had crashed upon rocky shores. She missed her newfound friend more than she thought possible.

  And worse yet, their chilly rapport was now apparent on the filmed segments. The director appeared to be at a loss as to how to regain their easy camaraderie. Their television segment was in jeopardy. And Lizzie couldn’t let things end like this—too much was riding on their success.

  While spending yet another sleepless night staring into the darkness, she’d stumbled across an idea. A chance to smooth things out with Dante.

  Instead of spending another lonely weekend sightseeing while Dante visited the vineyard, she’d invited herself to accompany him to the country. Armed with an old family recipe she’d found while straightening the office and with Massimo by her side, she’d commandeered the kitchen. She would cook the family a feast and in the process hopefully she’d mend a fence with Dante.

  “Do you really think they’ll like it?” She glanced at Massimo as he sat at the large kitchen table near the picture window.

  “Don’t you mean will Dante like it?”

  The more time she spent with Massimo, the less she noticed his slurred speech and the more he could read her mind. “Yes, I want Dante to like it, too.”

  A knowing gleam glinted in the older man’s eyes. “Something is wrong between you two.”

  It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact. She glanced away and gave the sauce a stir. She didn’t want Massimo to read too much in her eyes. Some things were meant to stay between her and Dante.

  “We’ll be fine.”

  Massimo got to his feet and, with the aid of his walker, moved next to her. “Look at me.”

  She hesitated before doing as he’d asked. She didn’t know what he was going to say, but her gut told her that it would be important.

  “My grandson has witnessed a lot of loss in his life. He’s also been at the wrong end of his father’s grief over losing my daughter. I know all about grief. When I lost my dear, sweet Isabelle, it nearly killed me. It can make a good man say things he shouldn’t. It can cause a person to grow a tough skin to keep from getting hurt again.”

  The impact of his words answered so many questions and affirmed her suspicions. “But why are you telling me all of this? It’s none of my business.”

  “I see how my grandson looks at you. It’s the same way I looked at his grandmother. But he’s afraid—afraid of being hurt like his father and brother. If you care about my grandson like I think you do, you’ll fight for him.”

  “But I can’t. Even if there was something between Dante and me, my life—it’s in New York.”

  “Love will always find a way—”

  “Mmm... What smells so good?”

  Stefano strode into the kitchen, followed closely by Dante and his father. Their hungry gazes roamed over the counter and stove. She shooed them all away to get washed up while she set the dining room table.

  Soon all four men were cleaned up in dress shirts and slacks. Thankfully, she’d had a couple of minutes to run to her room and put on a dress. Still, next to these smartly dressed men, she felt underdressed.

  “I hope you all like tonight’s dinner. Thanks to Massimo, I was able to cook some old family recipes.”

  “I’m sure it will be fantastic,” Dante’s father said as he took a seat at the head of the table.

  She wished she was as confident as he sounded. It felt like a swarm of butterflies had now inhabited her stomach as she removed the ceramic lids from the serving dishes. This just had to work. She had to impress them—impress Dante.

  She sat back, eagerly watching as the men filled their plates. It seemed to take forever. She didn’t bother filling hers yet. She already knew what everything tasted like as she’d sampled everything numerous times in the kitchen. In fact, she wasn’t even hungry at this point.

  But as they started to eat, a silence came over the table. The men started exchanging puzzled looks among themselves. Lizzie’s stomach tightened. What was wrong?

  She glanced Dante’s way but his attention was on the food. She turned to Massimo for some sort of sign that all would be well, but before he could say a word, Dante’s father’s chair scraped across the tiles. In the silent room, the sound was like a crescendo.

  The man threw down his linen napkin and strode out of the room. Lizzie watched in horror. She pressed a hand to her mouth, holding back a horrified gasp.

  Dante called out, “Papa.”

  The man didn’t turn back or even acknowledge him.

  “Let him go.” Stefano sent Dante a pointed look.

  As more forks clattered to their plates, the weight of disappointment weighed heavy on Lizzie. Her chest tightened, holding back a sob. This was absolutely horrific. Instead of the dinner bringing everyone together and mending fences, it’d only upset them.

  Unable to sit there and keep her emotions under wraps, Lizzie pushed back her chair. She jumped to her feet, and as f
ast as her feet would carry her, she headed for the kitchen.

  Her eyes stung and she blinked repeatedly. She’d done something wrong. How could she have messed up the recipe? She’d double-checked everything. But her Italian was a bit rusty. Was that it? Had she misread something?

  Not finding any solace in the room where she’d created the dinner—the disaster—she kept going out the back door. She had no destination in mind. Her feet just kept moving.

  The what-ifs and maybes clanged about in her head. But the one thought that rose above the others was how this dinner was supposed to be her peace offering to Dante. This was what she’d hoped would be a chance for them to smooth over their differences. But that obviously wasn’t going to happen when no one even wanted to eat her food.

  She kept walking. She didn’t even know how much time had passed when she stopped and looked around. The setting sun’s rays gave the grape leaves a magical glow. Any other time she’d have been caught up in the romantic setting, but right now romance was the last thing on her mind.

  She should turn back, but she wasn’t ready to face anyone. Oh, who was she kidding—she wasn’t willing to look into Dante’s eyes and to find that once again in her life, she didn’t quite measure up.

  When others looked at her as though she were less than everyone else, she could choke it down and keep going. After all, those people hadn’t meant anything to her. It’d hurt—it’d hurt deeply, but it hadn’t destroyed her. And she’d clung to the belief that whatever didn’t destroy you made you stronger.

  But Dante was a different story. A sob caught in her throat. She couldn’t stand the thought of him thinking that she was inept at cooking—the one ability that she’d always excelled in—her one hope to gain his respect.

  And now she’d failed. Miserably.

  * * *

  “Are you serious?”

  Dante sent Stefano a hard stare. The main dish Lizzie had prepared was his mother’s trademark dish. She only prepared it on the most special occasions.

  “Of course I’m serious. Did you see how all of the color drained from Papa’s face? It was like he’d seen a ghost or something.”

  Dante raked his fingers through his hair. “I guess I was too busy watching the horrified look on Lizzie’s face. She worked all day on that meal. She wouldn’t say it but I know that she was so anxious to please everyone—”

  “You mean anxious to please you, little brother.”

  “Me? Why would she do that?” He wasn’t about to let on to his older brother that anything had gone on between him and Lizzie. No way! He’d never hear the end of it. “We’re working together. That’s all.”

  Stefano elbowed him. “Whatever you say.”

  Dante leaned forward on the porch rail and stared off into the distance, but there was no sign of Lizzie.

  “I just have one question.”

  Dante stifled a groan. “You always have a question and most of the time it’s none of your business.”

  “Ah, but see, this does have to do with me. Because while you’re standing there insisting that you don’t care about Lizzie, she’s gotten who knows how far away. So is it going to be me or you that goes after her?”

  Dante hated when his brother was right. She had been gone a long time. Soon it’d be dark out. He’d attempted to follow her right after the incident, but Massimo had insisted she needed some time alone. But the thing was she didn’t understand what had happened to her special dinner and he needed to explain that it had nothing to do with her. Still, he figured that after her walk she’d be more apt to listen to him.

  “Dante, did you hear me?”

  He turned and glared at Stefano. “How could I help but hear you when you’re talking in my ear?”

  “You’re ignoring the question. Are you going? Or should I?”

  “I’m going.”

  “You might want to take your car. Hard to tell how far she’s gotten by now.”

  “Thanks so much for your expert advice.”

  Stefano sent him a knowing smile. “You always did need a little guidance.”

  They’d probably have ended up in a sparring match like they used to do as kids, but Dante had more important matters than showing his big brother that he was all grown up now. Dante jumped in Red and fired up the engine. He headed down the lane to the main road, not sure he was even headed in the right direction. No one had watched Lizzie leave, but he couldn’t imagine that she’d go hiking through the fields in a dress and sandals.

  He slowly eased the car along the lane, doing his best to search the fields while trying to keep the car from drifting off the road. Thankfully it was a private lane as he was doing a good deal of weaving back and forth.

  Where was she?

  As he reached the main road, his worries multiplied. Had he missed her? Had she wandered into the fields and somehow gotten lost? He pulled to a stop at the intersection and pounded his palm against the steering wheel. Why had he listened to his grandfather? He should have gone after her immediately.

  A car passed by and his gut churned. Was it possible she was so upset that she hitched a ride from a passing motorist? A stranger?

  His whole body stiffened. This was his fault. He’d been so upset by her rejection that he’d built up an impenetrable wall between them. Maybe if he hadn’t been so worried about letting her hurt him again, she wouldn’t have been trying so hard to impress him and his family—his dysfunctional family. If he couldn’t please his father—his own flesh and blood—how was she supposed to succeed?

  Dante’s gaze took in the right side of the main road, but there was no sign of Lizzie. And then he proceeded to the left, the direction they’d come from the city. That had to be the way she’d gone. He could only hope that she was wise enough to keep to herself and not trust any strangers. If anything happened to her—

  He cut off the thought. Nothing would happen to her. She would be fine. She had to be.

  And then he spotted the back of her red dress. He let out a breath that had been pent up in his chest. He sent up a silent thank-you to the big man upstairs.

  He pulled up next to her and put down the window. “Lizzie, get in the car.”

  She didn’t stop walking. She didn’t even look at him. He was in a big mess here. He picked up speed and pulled off the road. He cut the engine and jumped out of the car.

  By this point, Lizzie was just passing the car. She was still walking and he had no choice but to fall in step next to her. It was either that or toss her over his shoulder. He didn’t think she’d appreciate the latter option. And he didn’t need any passing motorists calling the polizia.

  “Lizzie, would you stop so we can talk?”

  Still nothing. Her strides were long and quick. His car was fading into the background. He should have locked it up, but he never imagined she’d keep walking.

  “What are you going to do? Walk the whole way back to Rome?”

  She came to an abrupt halt and turned to him with a pained look. “It’s better than going back and facing your family.”

  “Lizzie, they didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just...just that your food surprised them.”

  “I know. I saw the looks on their faces. Your father couldn’t get away from the table fast enough. It was as if he was going to be sick.” A pained look swept over her face. “Oh, no. He didn’t get sick, did he?”

  “Not like you’re thinking.” Dante really didn’t want to discuss his family’s problems here on the side of the road. “Come back to the car with me. We can talk there.”

  She crossed her arms. “We can talk here.”

  “Fine. The truth is your cooking was fantastic.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Like I’m going to fall for that line.”

  She turned to start walking again when he reached out, grabbing her arm. “Wait. The least you can do is hear me out.”

  Her gaze moved to his hand. He released his hold, hoping she wouldn’t walk away.

  “I’m listening. But don�
��t feed me a bunch of lies.”

  “It wasn’t a lie,” he ground out. “The honest-to-goodness truth is your dinner tasted exactly like my mother’s cooking. At least that’s what I’m told since I never had the opportunity to taste anything she prepared.”

  Lizzie pressed a hand to her mouth.

  “It seems that particular dish was her favorite. She made it for special occasions—most notably my father’s birthday. He hasn’t had it since she was alive. So you can see how it would unearth a lot of unexpected memories.”

  She blinked repeatedly. “I’m so sorry. I never thought—”

  “And you shouldn’t have to know these things. It’s just that my family doesn’t move on with life very well. They have a tendency to stick with old stories and relish memories. If you hadn’t noticed, my mother’s memory is quite alive. And Massimo had no clue that the dish was special to my mother and father.”

  “I feel so awful for upsetting everyone.”

  “You have nothing to worry about. In fact, you might be the best thing that has happened to my family in a very long time.”

  Her beautiful blue eyes widened. “How do you get that?”

  “My family has been in a rut for many years. And you’re like a breath of fresh air. Instead of them going through the same routine day in and day out, now they have something to look forward to.”

  “Look forward to what?”

  “To you.”

  “Really?” When he nodded, she added, “But the dinner was supposed to be special—for you.”

  “For me?” He pressed a hand to his chest. “But why?”

  “Because ever since that night when we...uhh...you know...”

  “Made love.” It had been very special for him—for both of them. There was no way he could cheapen it by calling it sex. No matter what happened afterward.

  “Uh, yes...well, after that you grew cold and distant. I was hoping that this dinner would change that.”

  “But isn’t that what you wanted? Distance?”

  Her fine brows rose. “Why would you think that?”

  Now he had to admit what he’d done and he wasn’t any too proud of it. “I heard you.”