“Wait a second, Justin.” Gisele held her hand up. “I want to hear every dirty detail. Continue, Soph.”
Sophie shook her head at Justin. “As if you are some sort of prim-and-proper thing.” She turned to Gisele. “One thing led to another and in the middle of the frenzy, we must’ve forgotten all about the tiramisu—”
“Are you kidding me? You had much more important things to concern yourselves with,” Gisele said.
Sophie nodded. “If you only knew the half of it.”
“Well, did you guys?”
“Did we?”
“Do the nasty?”
“We did a lot of nasties. Over the course of several hours. It was amazing. Except that he’s one of those guys.” She lifted her sunglasses onto her head to look around at her friends, ensuring they knew what she meant.
“Those guys?” Gareth said.
She pouted as she put her sunglasses back on. “The type who get buyer’s remorse. At the time, by God, the man was having the time of his life. I can assure you that. But by dawn’s early light? He’d morphed into the king of chicken shit.”
They all laughed.
“I have to ask you,” Justin said, leaning in. “Based on what I saw after you moved off his lap. And I ask this because I always like to hear about legends. Was his as epic as it looked like it could be?”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “I mean I’m not the world’s foremost expert on the size of a man’s penis. Sure I’ve had my share, but it’s not like I’m a porn actress and see a new one each day. But yeah, his is just right. Long and thick and pretty much perfect.” She closed her eyes, remembering how perfect it was.
It was a shame a precision tool like that was wasted on a perfect tool like him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lorenzo was starving. He’d gone for a long run to clear his head and hadn’t realized how hungry he was. As he worked his way back toward the house, he took a shortcut that followed behind the pool, which meant he was out of sight to anyone lounging poolside.
As he approached the area, he recognized her voice. And what he heard stopped him dead in his tracks.
“But yeah, his is just right. Long and thick and pretty much perfect.”
She’s honestly talking to them about my cock? He frowned. At least she was impressed with it.
And here he’d been worried she’d maybe come after him in his sleep with a cleaver, she was that pissed at him.
His ears perked up as they continued to talk.
“Would you ever fuck him again?” He thought that was Gisele talking.
Silence descended on the conversation. “Would I fuck him again?” Sophie said. “Well... Like I said, it was a damn-near-perfect cock. Too bad the owner was a near-perfect culo.”
She called him an asshole?
They all laughed. “Honestly there is some scary chemistry between us. I’d almost be afraid I wouldn’t be able to resist. But for my own self-respect, remind me of this: I’d sooner never have sex again than have it with that rat bastard.”
Touché. He blew that one. The hottest woman he’d bagged in eons, sleeping right across the hall from him. And she was now officially off-limits. And for what? Because he was so adamant about his single status and proud of it? Considering what he’d be missing out on, it was beginning to seem sort of stupid. Good thing there were other women he could snap his fingers for and they’d come running.
Culo. He wasn’t an asshole. He simply didn’t want to get hurt. And the easiest way to avoid that was to not put yourself out there to begin with.
He slipped back into the house by way of the front door to avoid being seen by the group bad-mouthing him poolside. As he entered, he happened upon his mother, who was sitting in the living room working on a needlepoint project. She was always making things like knitting baby blankets for orphans or stitching needlepoint seat cushions for the church.
“Lorenzo, caro, pull up a seat,” his mamma said. “We haven’t talked in a while.”
“Of course, Mamma.”
“We’ll get Allegra to bring you something to eat.”
“I’d love that.” Allegra had been nanny, housekeeper, tender to broken hearts, and all-around invaluable non-blood-relative family member his whole life. Even now she remained with the Romeo family, tending to whatever their needs might be.
“So talk to me about what is up with you these days. I’ve noticed that you’re quite on edge lately. Particularly since the arrival of Sophie Pellegrino. And I’d like to know what’s up with that. Because you’re not being a shining example of good manners, you know?”
He sighed. “I’m sorry, Mamma. I’ll try harder.”
“It’s not a matter of trying harder, tesoro. It’s a matter of trying from your heart.”
“You know I don’t operate from my heart.”
“And you don’t see that as a problem ever?”
“Look, Mamma. You of all people should be well aware of the hazards of placing your heart in someone else’s hands. So simple for them to squeeze the blood from it, isn’t it? Look at what Papà did to you!”
His mother looked at him, confusion in her eyes.
“I’ve seen a look that comes over you when you’ve been with Sophie. Maybe it would be good for you to get to know her better. She seems like a nice young woman. She’s an Italian girl, you know.”
God, did this mean his mother picked up on the look of unrequited lust that glimmered in his eyes for her?
“Thanks, but I don’t need you matchmaking for me, Mamma. I know what’s out there. I know what my options are. And most importantly, I know what’s not right for me.”
She patted him on the knee before he stood to go. “Promise me you’ll keep an open mind. I think something about this one is different.”
~*~
The next morning Sophie was up before sunrise, unable to sleep. This whole Lorenzo thing was gnawing at her, but she was at least going to get a move on and do something with her day rather than fritter the morning away ruminating about him.
She threw on a pair of shorts, a sports bra, and wifebeater, then grabbed her shoes, hoping to fit a run in before the sun became too hot.
She stopped for a quick espresso in the dining room, where she ran into Fabiana.
“Sophie! Cara mia. Up so early?”
Sophie cringed to hear yet another person referring to her as cara. In her mind, that word belonged to Lorenzo. Yet of course if he dared call her that now she’d slug him.
“Buon giorno, Fabiana. I thought I’d get an early start on things and go for a run around the property. It looks to be a gorgeous day.” Fabiana’s handbag hung from her shoulder. “You’re heading out early as well.”
“Would you care to join me, Sophie? I’m on my way to the market in Santa Romeo. It might get a little crazy in there this morning since artists are preparing for the Infiorate. But I think you’ll enjoy seeing how their work is coming together, not to mention the market is wonderful. You can really get a feel for a place when you’ve had a chance to slowly wander around an open-air market.”
Sophie thought for a moment. On the one hand, it might be awkward being alone with Lorenzo’s mother under the circumstances. But she was none the wiser and she was a lovely woman, so why not? And what an awesome way to start her day. She could run any old time. This would be a unique Italian experience.
“I’d love to join you—thank you so much for thinking of me! If you can give me a minute, I need to run back to the room to get my wallet and sunglasses.”
“Take your time, cara. I’ll be here waiting for you.”
“And it’s okay if I look a bit bedraggled? I haven’t showered yet or anything.”
Fabiana waved her hand dismissively. “You look beautiful the way you are, stella.”
On her way back to her room she pulled out her phone and opened the Google translate app and typed in the word “stella.” She’d learned her lesson after the great fottiti episode. She scrolled her finger along th
e word that came up. “Star,” she said aloud. What a lovely little term of endearment. “Star. I’m a star. I’ll have to remember that. It will be my daily affirmation: Sono una stella. I am a star.”
Even if she didn’t feel like a star, she was going to be one, come hell or high water.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sophie knew the Italians operated on an entirely different schedule than they did back home. Stores were open earlier; they closed for a large chunk of time midday and opened again, often later into the evening. Of course that meant mealtime was always much later. The pace of it felt surprisingly right, though. Back home, it was go-go-go from the minute your eyelids opened till the moment your head hit the pillow well after midnight. There was something to be said for the more life-affirming way Italians chose to live. More relaxed. Or what was it someone had said to her? Calme. Calm down, relax. Certainly a lifestyle she could embrace. Didn’t they even call it la dolce vita? The sweet life indeed.
Fabiana pulled her car into a lot at the base of the hilltop town and they took an elevator up to the village. So clever how they got around the obstacles of these hilly areas. It would have been a bitch climbing up a good mile along the roadside, especially since you weren’t allowed to park or drive in villages unless you were a resident.
“Normally I can park inside the walls of Santa Romeo,” Fabiana said, “since it is our family namesake and it wouldn’t be here without our ancestors. But between the busy market and the preparation for the Infiorate, parking will be at an even greater premium. I’d rather leave it for someone who needs it more than I do.”
If only Lorenzo inherited a little of the nice gene from his mother, the world would be a better place.
They wandered through row upon row of vendors selling their wares—everything from kitchen utensils, toys, and clothing to fresh local produce and cheeses. Fabiana stopped to chat with each of her favorite vendors, being sure to introduce Sophie as she did.
Sophie was starting to pick up a bit more Italian. She’d learned some basics growing up in an Italian household. Her grandmother never did speak much English, so Sophie grew to understand conversational words simply from eavesdropping on her elderly nonna when she’d gossip with the other neighborhood nonnas. Yet here, live and in person with actual Italians chattering away, it wasn’t as easy to grasp much of what was being said.
Fabiana took Sophie to a booth that was selling porchetta sandwiches.
“You must try one,” she said, paying for one for each of them. “You can’t leave Toscano without having had one.”
Sophie took a bite and moaned at the delicious merging of flavors, the warm, juicy pork rolled into a medley of herbs and spices. Street food at its finest. They even had some gelato afterward, which was weird—Sophie had eaten more food by nine in the morning than she’d had in an entire day back home. And she didn’t even think twice about the calories. This was Italian living at its finest.
“Angelina!” Fabiana said as she waved to a small woman with short gray hair who was approaching.
“Fabiana! I was hoping I’d run into you.”
“Me as well,” she said. “I wanted to ask you about a conversation I had with Lorenzo. It left me scratching my head, and I thought maybe you could shed some light on it.”
“Is everything all right with Lorenzo?”
She waved her hand. “Oh, he’s fine. He’s Lorenzo, as always. Heart of gold encased in steel.”
The two of them laughed.
“But he wasn’t like that as a little boy,” Angelina said. “Remember, he was such a sensitive child. Always concerned with everyone’s feelings. You remember when your dog was killed by the wild boar? All the children wailed, except Lorenzo. Instead of crying, he comforted his siblings.”
Sophie perked up her ears. Lorenzo? Employing empathy? Impossible.
“I do remember, which is what troubles me,” Fabiana said. “The other day he told me that I of all people should know what happens if your heart gets broken. He said look at what Papà did to me.”
“What he did to you? He loved you with all of his heart.” Angelina paused, lost in thought. “Ahhh... but when he died, you were so heartbroken.”
“Yes, although that wasn’t Giovanni’s fault. He didn’t set about to deliberately hurt me.”
“But remember Lorenzo at the time, cara. He was the one who sat by your side. Who wrapped his arms around your trembling shoulders. Who scratched your back so you could fall asleep after hours of crying. Lorenzo saw what happened to someone who loved so much then lost. It left its mark on him.”
A look of awareness came over Fabiana’s face. “Mio Dio! My son isn’t heartless. He’s just terrified of losing his heart, he was scared seeing what it did to his mamma.”
Angelina smiled. “That boy has a heart as big as a mountain. I never bought all that gossip about him and his roaming eye. I think his problem has long been that he’s a frightened little boy in a man’s body.”
Sophie sighed. Didn’t she even call him a boy in a man’s body? Or something like that. Hit the nail on the head but didn’t understand the reason for it. Poor Lorenzo. Her heart sort of ached for that boy who lost his father and had to try to piece his mother back together again. Bless his heart. He probably couldn’t even recognize this was the root of his detachment issues. Geez, what a good therapist could do for him.
“Mi dispiace,” Fabiana finally said to Sophie. “My children call me the chiacchierone—the chatterbox—because I love to gossip with my friends when I go into the village.”
Sophie smiled. “No apologies needed. I’d happily join you in the gossip if I knew anyone and had some good dish to share.”
“Stick around long enough, I’m sure we can catch you up.”
“I love that word. How did you say it? Chiaccherione? It’s sort of mellifluous. Rolls off the tongue.”
“It comes from the word ‘cluck,’ chiocciare. The gossip is clucking like a chicken. I suppose it’s an insult although I don’t take it as one.”
Sophie laughed. “I’d be honored if someone called me a chiaccherione.”
Fabiana reached her hand out. “Come, sweet Sophie. We have work to do. But first, let’s go see what Domenico has been up to with his flower art.”
Fabiana tucked Sophie’s hand beneath her arm, an affectionate gesture that made Sophie feel all warm and tingly. Having grown up with a mother somewhat void of affection, it was a new sensation. She was growing to care for Fabiana—she was welcoming, charming, and thoughtful. And not only was she a mother to so many, she was a surrogate mother to whoever needed her. So that was what it was like for people who had real moms, like those TV moms who seemed so perfect. She made a mental note to remember to be that kind of mom if she ever got married and had children.
Sophie couldn’t get enough of Santa Romeo either, with its old-world charm. Strolling along the cobbled streets, she felt at home amongst the warm, limestone facades, the terra-cotta tiled roofs, the obligatory imposing cathedral on the piazza in the center of town.
When she stopped looking up at the majestic spires, she averted her gaze to see what everyone had been talking about: stunning murals composed only of flower petals. Floral murals! That made her laugh. She turned her head this way and that, trying to get a glimpse of the works in progress. It was still hard to discern what many of the final portraits would look like, but she could see forms taking shape, complete with shading and details, such as the musculature in a depiction of Jesus on the cross. It was spectacular. One mural had a woman with long, flowing blond hair that stretched the length of the roughly fifteen-foot-long mural. Breathtaking.
Not to mention the intoxicating scents wafting through the air: wild thyme, the licorice aroma of anise, the sweet smell of rose, the heavy perfume of jasmine, and the peppery tang of fresh basil.
They found Dominico hunched with a team of helpers over a brilliantly colored mural replica of the famed Botticelli painting Birth of Venus, which depicts Venus
naked on a shell along the shoreline, a metaphorical depiction of the birth of love and spiritual beauty as a driving force of life. That the man had the vision to craft such an iconic image from mere flower petals, leaves, and herbs was hard to fathom.
“Dominico, I had no idea the breadth of your talent,” Sophie said. “This is truly spectacular.”
He stood up and wiped his hands on his pants. “Thank you for noticing. It’s
something that makes me happy. I get a thrill being able to share it with others.”
“How do you keep the petals from blowing away?”
“Depending on the weather, we’ll install canopies to protect our work from the elements. With the forecast being for perfect temperature and no wind or rain, we’ve been working without cover. We keep the flowers fresh by spraying frequently. That way they don’t dry out.”
“The Romeo family always seems to be full of surprises,” she said. “Your brother Tomasso is such a gifted woodworker.”
“And Mamma here, she does some pretty mean embroidery.” He beamed at his mother and she poked him in the ribs as he gave her a huge bear hug.
“My boys love to tease me.” Her eyes twinkled. “And speaking of my boys, look who we have here.” She extended her arms to greet none other than Lorenzo. Great. The last person on the planet she wanted to see.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lorenzo frowned the minute he saw Sophie with his mamma and brother. He had been feeling a little bad for how things had ended with them, but he saw no other way. Unfortunately he was having a much harder time dismissing memories of their intimate moments together. He’d worked hard to avoid being anywhere near her because the instant he saw her, he could only envision her naked as he entered her from behind. Not a great thing to fantasize about while standing in front of his mother and Dominico.
“Lorenzo, amore, let me get a picture of you two together.” She pulled him over toward Sophie, who looked like she was about to throw up. She pushed him shoulder to shoulder with her and squeezed his cheeks, forcing him to smile.
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