Francesca sighs. “It was the first time I became engaged.”
“Really?” I can’t help revealing my surprise.
“Yes. I had a feeling Mario would propose so I made sure I was dressed to the tens.”
“You mean ‘to the nines.’ ”
“Nines? I always thought the expression was ‘dressed to the tens’? Ten is perfection. Why would it be nine?”
“I don’t know. But trust me, it’s the nines.”
Francesca shrugs her shoulders.
“Mario Scarpone. He was your leading man in your first film, La Sposa Pazza?”
“Si. And at the time, all of Italy was in love with him. He was the equivalent of Brad Pitt. I still think he was one of the most handsome men I ever dated. We made quite a dashing couple.”
“And who was the most handsome man you were ever with?”
Francesca’s eyes immediately darken. But she gives a light laugh. “I do not know. There were several handsome men. It is difficult to say.”
“Difficult or rather you refuse to say?”
Francesca’s eyes meet mine. She seems startled that I’m challenging her. I’m waiting for my scolding, but now it’s my turn to be surprised.
“You are quite perceptive. Yes, you are correct. I refuse to say.”
“I guess I can respect your protecting the other man, especially since he’s no doubt famous.”
“He was not famous. But you are right. I am protecting his privacy.”
Hmmm. In my research of Francesca’s relationships, I never came across anyone she dated who was not either in the movie industry or known for his immense wealth. Knowing I can’t press her any further on this, I change tactics since I’m getting quite a bit out of her.
“And what did you wear when you became engaged the second time?”
Francesca walks to her armoire and pulls out a candy-red halter dress with a few scattered rhinestones. The rhinestones are just enough so that the dress has sparkle without overdoing it.
“That’s gorgeous!”
“You can try it on if you want.”
“Oh, no. I can’t take another dress. And I insist on just borrowing them. I can’t keep these dresses now that I know they hold such sentimental value for you.”
“Me? Sentimental?” Francesca laughs. “I simply could not part with these dresses because I love them so much and they still look gorgeous on me.”
I don’t believe her, but I keep my mouth shut.
“Anyway, I was planning on giving you two dresses. The other dress I laid out on the bed I thought you would like because it is black, and what young girl does not like a little black dress? But I will let you choose. And I do not want to hear any more talk about borrowing. These are a gift, and I will be highly insulted if you return them.” Francesca gives me a reproachful look.
“Thank you, Francesca.”
“My pleasure. Now decide if it will be the black or the red dress.”
I’m unable to resist the red dress. I begin unzipping the royal-blue sheath dress when Francesca comes over and helps me. For a second, I see her give me the once-over when she sees me in my underwear. Does she wish she were still as thin as I am? I would kill for a few of her sultry curves.
Sliding into the red dress, I catch a glimpse of myself in the armoire’s mirrors. I’ve never looked this sexy before. Though I usually like to dress in a more understated way to prevent lots of stares, I am utterly mesmerized by this dress. I want Gregory to see me in it.
“Slip these on.” Francesca hands me red patent-leather sling-back, peep-toe sandals.
They seem a bit too conservative for this dress, which I envision matched with a vampy stiletto pump. But when I slide my feet into them, I see the effect Francesca was going for. The outfit still looks very sexy but in a classier way than it would’ve looked if I had worn stilettos.
“This dress will only need a few alterations.”
I admire myself in the mirror. Francesca comes up behind me and brushes my hair to the side and over my right shoulder. She then inserts two hair combs, giving me a forties starlet appearance.
“Glamorous. I should have become a fashion consultant.” Francesca’s hands are clasped together, and she’s beaming like a proud mother who’s sending her daughter off to the prom.
“So, Sal Giametta was your second fiancé—the one who proposed to you when you were wearing this dress?”
“Yes. Unlike with my first engagement, I had no idea he was going to propose to me. We were having dinner at a restaurant in Rome and were planning on going to a nightclub. He was the director of my second film, Donna Fortunata. The chemistry between us was intense. I did not even care that he was quite significantly older than me.”
“Sal Giametta was in his early forties when you were seeing him, and you were in your twenties, correct?”
“Si, si. You have done your research well. He was also married, but I am sure you know that already.”
“Actually, I didn’t.” I can’t believe such a scandalous fact hadn’t surfaced in my research.
“I guess you are not that thorough.” Francesca winks at me and smiles, indicating she’s only teasing. But the remark manages to annoy me.
“You didn’t have any problems dating a married man? And then becoming engaged to him?”
“His marriage was already over when we began seeing each other. They were separated, but not in the legal sense. It was very difficult in those days to get a divorce in Italy. It still is not easy. After I accepted his proposal, he convinced his wife to file for the divorce. We had a long battle ahead of us with the courts and the Church, but our engagement only lasted two months. I could not take the headache involved with his trying to get divorced. So I ended it.”
Quite loyal and patient, I can’t help thinking to myself.
“You didn’t say why you ended your first engagement to Mario Scarpone. That is, if you were the one who broke it off.”
“Of course I was the one. I ended all of my five engagements.”
“Yes, I did read in my research that the rumors were that you had the change of heart. But a few people were skeptical. They thought you were just trying to save face because of your sex-symbol status, and to admit you’d been rejected would’ve been the worst insult to you.”
“So, is that what they thought?” Francesca’s hands are on her hips, and she’s staring me down as if she wants to punch me.
Holding up my hands, I say, “Hey, this is what I read. I’m not the one saying it.”
“I would love to see this research you came across.”
“Why, Francesca? I thought you have always prided yourself on not caring what the media thinks.”
“Ha! Do you really believe that, Pia? I am an actress. We all care what the media thinks. Plus, I am Italian. We always care about making a good impression and what others say or think about us.”
She’s right. My mother is the same way and so is Zia. Fare la bella figura or making a good impression. I’d heard that from both of them throughout my life.
“So, why did you end your engagement to Mario Scarpone?”
“I was young. I was not ready to get married, especially since my career had only just taken off. I knew I needed to establish myself with more movies before I could think about settling down and having children.”
“And what happened with your third fiancé, Luca Barone, the heir to the Barone Leather House?”
“Ahh, Luca. I was engaged to him the longest—a year. We were just one month shy of our wedding. What can I say? I realized I was not in love with him. I did acquire so many beautiful leather coats and shoes while I was with him though.” Francesca smirks.
I’m disgusted by her remark, but I don’t dare say so. It’s typical anyway. She’s a narcissistic celebrity with a taste for the finer things in life.
“Why weren’t you in love with him?”
Francesca laughs. “What kind of question is that? You either feel it or you do not. Why a
re you in love with Gregory?”
Refusing to let her turn the tables on me, I ignore her as I pull off the strap of the sling-back sandals and begin unzipping my dress.
“Wait! What are you doing? Keep the dress and sandals on.”
“Why? I have nowhere to go this dressed up.”
“Of course you do. After you leave here, you are going straight to Gregory’s. He must see you dressed this way. I promise he will love the outfit and will be completely enchanted with you!”
“I don’t know. I feel weird walking around this way. I’m not a movie star like you, and it isn’t even nighttime. Besides, the dress needs to be altered.”
“We can easily fix that with a few discreetly placed safety pins.” Francesca walks over to her dresser and takes a few safety pins out of a porcelain box. Returning to my side, she begins taking the dress in and carefully places the pins so that they’re concealed within the folds of the fabric. When she’s done, she places her hands on my shoulders and tilts my body so that I’m facing the armoire’s mirrors. “Take a good look at yourself. You are a very beautiful young woman. Start believing it.”
I’m feeling self-conscious, but I can’t resist staring at myself one last time. A part of me does want Gregory to see me in this alluring, glamorous outfit. But I’m not accustomed to looking this way. As if reading my thoughts, Francesca whispers, “Trust me.”
“Okay.” I begin packing up my things. Fortunately, I have my large tote bag with me today so I can throw my clothes in there. I still want to hear about Francesca’s last two fiancés. Glancing at my watch, I see that I’ve been here for two hours. Of course, it didn’t help that I was kept waiting yet again. I’m supposed to meet Gregory at Zia’s bakery. Suddenly, with horror, I realize I can’t let Zia see me like this. I can just hear what she’ll say: “That puttana dressed you like a Hollywood whore!” I’ll have to call him and ask him if we can meet somewhere else.
“So, why did you call off your last two engagements?”
“I have shared enough for one day, Pia.”
“Does that mean we’ll pick up where we left off at our next meeting?”
“I think I would like to focus on my acting method and why I won two Oscars.”
Great! She’s clamming up once again. But I’m not worried. I can tell now that Francesca does want to open up more to me. She just has to feel that it’s on her terms.
“That’s a great idea. I really want to get into the nitty-gritty of your acting style and dissect the movies you won Oscars for scene by scene.”
“Oh! Yes, that sounds wonderful.” Francesca plasters on a phony smile, but there’s a hint of disappointment in her voice.
I pick up the hanger holding the royal-blue sheath, but Francesca stops me.
“I will ask Angelica to take it in for you. She’s quite an expert seamstress. I will tell her what needs to be done.”
“Really?” I can’t help but wonder again why Angelica chose to be a maid when she could’ve used her seamstress skills working for a designer or even opened up her own business.
“Yes, she told me she makes most of her clothes. When she comes to work, before she changes into her uniform, she is dressed impeccably. I am thinking of asking her to make a dress for me. It has been ages since I have had a custom-made dress.”
“You shop off the rack?” My voice comes out in a high shrill.
“No, of course not. I am Francesca Donata. I have a personal shopper who brings clothes from only the finest boutiques in Milan and Paris to my villa in Italy.”
“I would think with your money, all of your wardrobe would be custom-made.”
“I do not have the patience to wait for the clothes to be made, and I never liked someone fawning over me with a tape measure.”
I suspect the latter reason is her real motive for shying away from custom-made outfits. Though she has a to-die-for figure for a woman her age, she is fuller than she was in her youth. Fortunately for her, most of the weight seems to have gone to her breasts, hips, and derrière and has further enhanced her already sensual physique. If only every woman could age as gracefully.
“Thank you for the dresses and for asking Angelica to make the necessary alterations.”
“It is my pleasure. The dress will be ready tomorrow.”
“There’s no need for Angelica to rush. I can wait.”
“Nonsense! Besides, I want to hear all about Gregory’s reaction when he sees you in the red dress. Be sure to bring it with you so that Angelica can alter that one as well.”
“Okay.”
“Actually, Pia, I cannot wait until our next interview to hear how it went with Gregory. How about you come by tomorrow afternoon? The dress will be ready by then, and we will have tea. Well, you can have tea if you wish. I never drink tea. I will have espresso—or something stronger.” Francesca gives me a conspiratorial smile.
Returning the smile, I say, “Okay. I’ll see you then. You don’t need to come down with me. I’ll let myself out.”
“Yes, you know your way around here well now.” Francesca narrows her gaze. Again, she’s giving me a hint that she knows I eavesdropped on her earlier when she was in the bathroom with Signora Tesca.
Walking down the spiral staircase, I can’t help but feel elated. This interview went very well. Finally, I feel like Francesca is warming up to me and revealing more. Though I still think she can be haughty and self-centered, I do feel that she is longing for companionship. Her acting like my girlfriend and giving me two of her dresses attests to that.
“Miss Santore?”
I’m about to walk out the front door when I hear Francesca’s bodyguard, Edgardo, calling me.
“Hello, Edgardo.”
“Good morning, Miss Santore. How are you?”
“I’m well, thank you.”
Edgardo is staring at my legs. Suddenly, I remember the sexy outfit I’m in. How could I forget?
“We’d like you to start using the back entrance when you arrive and leave here. It would just make the bodyguards’ job easier, so that they don’t have to constantly fend off the mob outside whenever someone comes and goes. Plus, I’ve noticed how the paparazzi have been hounding you lately.”
Edgardo is referring to the fact that the paparazzi found out I’m interning at Profile. Not only were they harassing me with questions about Francesca, but they even took to insulting me out of jealousy for my having full access to her. I’m so grateful I could kiss him, but I merely voice my appreciation.
“Thank you very much, Edgardo. That makes my life easier, too.”
Edgardo nods. “Just follow me, and I’ll show you where the back door is.”
He leads me through the immense kitchen. The staff doesn’t even look up. That’s how engrossed they are in their work. We go down about five steps, to where there’s a door that looks like it leads to the backyard.
“Hold on.” He motions for me to stay back as he glances out the door’s window. Confident the coast is clear, he waves me forward. “This leads out to the backyard. The neighbor generously allowed us to cut some of the fencing that separates her yard from Signora Tesca’s, so that we can go through her property and avoid detection by the mob outside.”
“How much did you pay her?”
Edgardo smiles. “Money does talk. She was reluctant at first, but we definitely made it worth her while.”
“Thanks again.”
Edgardo holds the door open for me. I’m also secretly relieved I didn’t have to leave the house through the front, looking the way I do. The paparazzi would have no doubt noticed and eaten me alive.
As I step out into the yard, my heels quickly sink into the lawn. Sighing, I take out a tissue from my bag and bend over to wipe the mud from my heels. When I stand back up, I almost scream. A man towers over me, staring intensely.
“Oh my God!”
“I’m—I’m sorry. I did not mean to alarm you,” the man stammers. He appears flustered. “I was lost in my thoughts before
I looked up and almost slammed into you.”
“It’s okay. If you’ll please excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”
“Were you here to see my aunt?”
“Aunt? You mean Signora Tesca?”
“No, she’s my mother.”
“Oh!” I remember the neighbors had mentioned Signora Tesca has a son who visits infrequently.
“My Aunt Francesca.” He comes closer to me and with a devilish grin whispers, “The Crazy Bride.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Yes, I was here to see her. How did you know?”
“My mother mentioned to me that a young woman has been coming by to do a series of interviews with Francesca. I’m sorry. Where are my manners today? First, I give you the fright of your life, and then I forget to introduce myself. Lorenzo Tesca.”
Shaking his hand, I say, “Pia Santore. Nice to meet you.”
As I get closer, I see his hair is much darker than Signora Tesca’s red hair. Since I have yet to see Signora Tesca in person, I cannot tell whether they share any resemblance. From the photos I’ve seen of her when she was younger, I don’t see any. He takes off his sunglasses, revealing a captivating pair of hazel eyes that complement his bronzed skin perfectly. He’s slightly taller than average height for a man, but he looks to be in incredible shape. I can tell he works out religiously.
“I hope my aunt has not been very difficult to work with.”
Smiling, I say, “So even her family knows she can be difficult.”
“Of course! But I have never met her and am only going by the little my mother has told me about her and what I’ve heard from the media.”
I must not have heard him right. Did he actually say he’s never met his aunt?
“I’m sorry. You said you’ve never met your aunt?”
“Yes. I will meet her for the first time in person today.”
“How can that be?”
“She and my mother haven’t seen each other in a long time.”
Then I remember Francesca and Signora Tesca’s estrangement, so it does make sense that he’s never met his aunt since the two sisters haven’t even seen each other in thirty years.
“We have talked on the phone a handful of times and corresponded by letters, but this will be the first time I am meeting her in person.”
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