by Carol Grace
“I’ll book a ticket back home to San Francisco,” she said. “But first I’m going to Rome to see the sights.”
“The Coliseum, the Trastavere, the Vatican, the Forum?”
“Everything I can squeeze into a week’s vacation.”
“You should have a guide.”
“I have a guide book.”
“What will we do without you?” he asked.
“You’ll manage. There are other boarding schools they can apply to or I can send you another nanny,” she said.
“It won’t be the same.”
“Nothing is ever the same. Surely we both know that. But life goes on.” She was proud of her philosophical attitude, even if she felt anything but philosophical at the moment. She was trying to be strong, to be firm and not give in if he asked her to stay on. Inside her head a voice was saying, Tell me if you want me to stay. Say it. Tell me why. And make it a good reason. The reason I want to hear. If you don’t I have to leave.
“The girls want you to stay. They’ve gone to great lengths to show you that.” He waved an arm around the room, from the bolted door to the high narrow windows to the cot in the corner.
The girls wanted her to stay. He didn’t. That much was clear. “I’m touched, I really am. But we had an agreement, you and I. I didn’t do what you hired me to do. I’ve done everything I can do here.”
“Everything?” There was a gleam in his eye she couldn’t ignore. What did he mean? What did he want from her? He seemed more relaxed and more easy-going than she’d ever seen him. The teasing look in his eyes was something she’d never noticed before. Was his work so demanding that he was glad for a weekend off even though he had no choice in the matter
“You’re going back to the agency?” he asked.
“Yes.” The thought of spending her days in the office with her step-mother looking over her shoulder while she placed skilled nannies in desirable positions was not something to look forward to. But what choice did she have? Take on another nanny position? Fall in love with yet another employer? What was wrong with her? Did she have no self control? She could leave next week with happy memories of her stay here. She could and she would.
To avoid looking at Vittorio she looked into the picnic basket and found two candles.
“Why the candles?” she asked him. “Is there no electric power up here?”
“Of course,” he said. But when he went to check, he found the lightbulbs had been removed. “They want us to eat by candlelight, I think. Where do they get these ideas?”
“I can’t take credit or blame for everything they do,” she said. “They are your daughters and from what you’ve told me of your childhood, they are following in your footsteps in many ways. Perhaps they’ll end up working at your bank one day.”
He laughed. It was a sound she never thought she’d hear. “My daughters at the bank,” he said. “That would be something to see. I suppose you could be right. If we can find a way to channel all that energy.”
From her position on the floor, Sabrina leaned back against the foot of the bed. He said we, meaning her and himself. Why did he say that when she’d made it clear she was not staying?
“I know what you’re thinking,” Vittorio said, his smile fading. “You want to know what they inherited from Maddelena. Energy and imagination for sure.”
“Both of which are needed in the banking business, aren’t they?”
Vittorio nodded. She was right about that. He should have known he couldn’t avoid the subject of Maddelena forever. He owed Sabrina some explanation. But the whole truth? He’d never divulged it to anyone before. Why start now? The answer came immediately. Sabrina cared. She cared about the girls. She cared about the villa and she even cared about him. At least a little. And she was leaving next week and she’d take his secret with her if he asked her to.
“I’ve spent the past seven years trying to forget their mother,” he said staring at the wall. “I don’t like talking about her.” Then he popped the cork on the Zoave bottle. “It’s not a happy story.”
“I understand,” she said. “You have the right to remain silent. You don’t owe me anything. I don’t need to know anything about her.”
He glanced around at the small enclosure that was their weekend prison or retreat, depending on your outlook, and gave her a small smile. “You’re a good sport,” he said. “Buon sport. Any other woman who was locked up for the weekend with me might be going crazy.”
“I don’t think I have a choice, do I?”
“You could scream and cry.”
“Is that what Maddelena would have done?”
“She was capable of making a scene and she hated being cooped up. She wanted her freedom.”
He went into the bathroom where he found two glasses and poured some wine in each. When he handed her the glass, he said, “Haven’t you heard enough about her? It’s a long story.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
She had a point. Neither one was going anywhere. He sat on the floor next to her, his arm against hers. Outside the window, dusk was falling. Later he would light the candles, but for now he preferred the semi-darkness which would make it easier to talk about the past. If possible. He took a drink of wine and rubbed his chin before he began.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
She nodded. He moved closer. So close a lock of her hair brushed against his cheek. She didn’t seem to know they were knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder, but he knew. He inhaled the fresh summer scent of her. She was a breath of air that had blown all the way from California to his villa in Italy to stir his blood, to revive his spirit. He owed her his story. At least that much.
“All right then. Maddelena was the girl of my dreams. Her family is like mine, old and wealthy and respected. But Elena as we called her was different. She had a wild streak. She drove the fastest car, rode the wildest horse, gambled and partied until dawn. You saw her picture in the library. You know she was beautiful. Men were after her ever since I can remember. I know because I was one of them. I knew what she was like and I was drawn to her like a moth to the flame. So was everyone else. She was always surrounded by men. They found her irresistible.”
“But she chose you,” Sabrina said.
“Her father chose me,” he said ruefully. “That was my first mistake.”
“She did what she was supposed to. She obeyed her father?”
“Only that once and then she regretted it. Her family wanted to link our two families together. What better way than to plan a dynasty? I was happy. No I was beyond happy. I was embarking on a new future with the woman I loved. We had money, position, and planned to have a family.”
“What about Elena?”
“Happy was not a word in her vocabulary,” he said. “It was something she was always looking for but never found. As far as I know.”
“How did she die?”
“It was an accident. She was driving her Ferrari 250 on the road to Florence when she crashed. Seven years ago. She died instantly. The twins were only a few weeks old.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” he said stiffly. It felt good to tell her. It felt right. Of course it wasn’t the whole story, but it was all he could say. The whole story was too painful. Fortunately no one knew and no one ever would. He refilled Sabrina’s glass then he turned to her. “Now it’s your turn.”
“I have no story to tell. No husband, no children. I’m an orphan, that’s why I love being a nanny or placing nannies. I get to be a part of a family for a while, live a different life than my own and then move on.”
“No desire to stay in one place?” he asked.
“That would be boring. If I stayed in one place I never would have come here, never met you or the girls, never seen the lakes or driven to Milan.”
“Can’t I convince you to stay somewhat longer? If you don’t care about me, at least consider the girls. I need help in finding a solution for them, a new nanny or a different sch
ool. I need your help, Sabrina.”
He hoped she’d want to help the girls before she left. But the real reason was that life at the villa was different with her there. For the first time since Maddelena died he looked forward to coming home. After his stay in Rome he cut his time short so he could return early.
“I’ll help you from my office in San Francisco,” she said. I can do research from there into schools and I can interview nannies in person to make sure you get the right one if that’s what you want.”
I want you, he said to himself. He couldn’t tell her that. It wasn’t fair to make her stay if she didn’t want to. If she found life here to be boring. He definitely couldn’t keep her on indefinitely.
“Is there someone back there waiting for you?” he asked, getting to his feet.
“My stepmother and step-sisters.”
“I meant a man. Instead of caring for other people’s children, why don’t you get married and have your own?” The thought of Sabrina married to some ordinary man with children made him feel like he’d been hit with an electric stun gun. If she wasn’t married by now, why would she marry someone else? She likes taking care of children, he told himself. She doesn’t need her own. You don’t know that, he chided himself. You only suppose.
She didn’t say anything. He couldn’t see her face so he lit a candle. When he glanced down at her he saw a tear trickle down her cheek.
“It’s none of my business,” he said. He wanted to wipe the tear from her cheek, and tell her she was doing the right thing. But she might not appreciate it. He should have kept quiet.
“I was in love once,” she said so softly, he wasn’t sure he’d heard her. “He was a single father and I loved his daughter as my own. She and I were close. The three of us were close. I thought…I thought it would last forever. That I would have the family I always wanted. But I was wrong. I made a mistake thinking I was part of their family. I wasn’t. My employer married someone else and of course I left.”
The candle flickered. Her voice faded. “You were in love with him,” he said slowly.
“Yes.”
“Did you tell him?”
“Of course not.”
I’m sorry I asked,” he said. “I had no right to pry into your past. It’s time live in the present, forget what happened and have dinner.”
Sabrina stood, grateful to have her story over. The past was in the past. Now that he knew everything about her, maybe he understood why she had to leave. She only hoped he wouldn’t guess how she felt about him. She knew better than to let her feelings show. She’d learned early on with her step-sisters teasing her unmercifully.
From the picnic basket she took a table cloth, unfolded it and put it on the bed then she spread out the bruschetta and the fruit dish. “It all looks wonderful. Your girls have excellent taste.”
She sat at the foot of the small bed, her legs crossed, a feeling of relief washing through her. She’d told him her story and he’d told her his. They both knew where their story was heading after this weekend – nowhere. The girls would be disappointed, but at least they had each other, which was more than she’d had.
“I agree,” he said placing the candle on the bedside table and sitting at the opposite end of the bed. “Excellent taste in food and nannies. If they hadn’t rejected the previous ones, we never would have gotten you.”
“But those women were hand-picked by me. Each and every one was well-qualified, experienced and hard-working. I don’t understand…”
“I do. They weren’t you.” He leaned forward, took her hand and kissed her palm.
Sabrina blushed. She told herself to relax and enjoy this romantic picnic in the tower. Vittorio was as charming and charismatic as a prince could be, practically begging her to stay on and complimenting her right and left and best of all, confiding in her about his wife’s death. But after they got out of here, it would be back to reality. Back to coping with the problems he faced. What to do with the girls. And the immense problem she faced. How to recover from yet another unrequited love affair.
Vittorio stood and went rummaging through the picnic basket. “What’s this? A box of truffles.” He brought the box to her, selected one, sat on the bed next to her and fed it to her. In the flickering firelight, she wasn’t sure if she was licking his fingers or the dark chocolate truffle. When he groaned deep in his throat, she realized it was him.
“Now it’s your turn,” he said, holding the box in front of her. With trembling fingers she chose a truffle dusted with dark chocolate powder. His face was only inches away. She would never have been so bold if they’d been in bright light instead of the flickering candle. But she was and they weren’t. He took the chocolate into his mouth and ate it. Then he took her fingers into his mouth, one by one and sucked them. She felt all the air rush out of her lungs. She felt like she was falling from the sky, drifting through clouds. She was in heaven.
She could have pulled her hand away. If she’d had any sense she would have. He was her boss. But not for long. She would be gone within a week. She’d never see him again.
As for now, she could stop him at any time, but it was only flirting, only passing the time until they could leave this place. Why would she want to stop the jolt of pleasure that filled her body. She didn’t. She wanted it to go on forever. She wanted his lips on her fingers, tasting, touching, teasing. She leaned forward. He moved closer and lowered his lips to meet hers. He kissed her and she tasted grappa and zaboione and hazelnut and Vittorio.
She was in a fantasy land. He was Italian and he knew how to make a woman feel like a princess. A princess locked up in a tower with no wish to leave. Not if her prince was with her, kissing her, murmuring words in Italian in her ear, and easing her shirt off with one hand while the other did amazing things. His fingers circled her breast, honing in on the nipple. She gasped, sighed and murmured that she wanted more.
“You are the most beautiful, the most amazing, the most desirable woman I have ever met,” he said, his tongue tracing circles around her ear. “I thank whatever gods brought you to me.”
She wanted to say it wasn’t any gods at all. It was an agency. It was her step-mother. But she couldn’t speak. Her brain had shut off. Her mouth didn’t work either. At least not for talking. She didn’t want to talk. All she wanted was to make love to Vittorio here in this castle tower. On this bed or on the floor. It didn’t matter. One night. That’s all she asked. Was it too much for a simple nanny to ask for? Why not make the most of it? She’d never be back to Italy. Never meet anyone like him again. He didn’t want a future with her. She would take what she could get. One night. Maybe two.
She got to her knees and took off her shirt. It was too warm in there. Too warm for clothes. He helped her dispose of her white Capri pants and tossed them to the side. She was still wearing a small triangle of silk that was called a bikini and a push-up bra. Too many clothes. Way too many.
Chapter Nine
Sabrina had dismissed the bed as not being big enough for two, but that was when she was picturing something totally different. She was picturing sleep. Why sleep when there was so much else to do? When there was room enough to make love.
He took her by the shoulders and eased her onto the bed. She did nothing, just lay back and let the sensations wash over her. Feeling the touch of his cool fingers as they caressed her enflamed skin. Then he unfastened her bra with its front snaps and sucked in a deep breath. “You are so beautiful,” he breathed.
He stood and ripped his clothes off and left them in a pile on the floor. She sat up and in the candlelight she saw he was magnificent, better than portrait of Adonis, better than the statue of David in front of the Baptistry in Florence she’d seen in books. She wanted say something, to tell him what she thought, but her voice was stuck in her throat.
In the dim light that turned his skin to gold, she knew she’d never seen anything so beautiful as he was. Never wanted anyone more than she wanted him at this moment.
“I�
��ve been celibate for seven years, Sabrina. I want you to know that,” he said in a voice she scarcely recognized. “This is not what I do.”
She nodded. She didn’t care. She wanted him as he was, celibate, gorgeous, smart or not, rich or poor. It didn’t matter. He eased her back down on the quilt. The bed sagged with both of them on it. He braced his arms against the thin mattress and loomed above her, his face in shadows. He could have been anyone, but he was Vittorio Monteverde, a prince. In his eyes she saw blazing hunger, and in his arousal she saw throbbing desire, hot and potent. She was ready. More than ready. But he had to be sure. She had to be more than ready for him. He brought her to the brink of explosion over and over, with his tongue, his touch and his words whispered in her ear.
“Bella, bella,” he murmured. “Stordira, splendida, incredible.”
Italian must be the most romantic language in the world, she thought. And Vittorio must be the most romantic Italian in the world. She felt her blood pulsing throughout her body. “Come to me,” she begged. “Now. I want you. I need you.” She raised her arms. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead and her mouth. He’d kissed her before. But this was nothing like that. These were wild frantic kisses. He was hungry. He was crazy with desire. He wanted her.
“Carissima,” he said. “I know. I feel it, I want you too. Do you see how much I want you?”
She smiled in the darkness. She saw his arousal. She arched her back. The blood pulsed through her veins like a drumbeat. Her body was on fire. She ached for him. She had to have him now.
Her cries rang out in the still of the night. He called her name. She screamed. No one heard. Only the fireflies below. He held her tight. Finally they slept.
Some time later they heard the fireworks. The sky outside the windows was alight with brilliant colors and shapes. Roman candles, chrysanthemums, and visions of palm trees all lit up the sky in a dazzling display. She tried to sit up to see better, but his arms were wrapped around her.