by Mynx, Sienna
“You arranged breakfast for us here?” she asked, the question nearly stalled in her throat and nervous energy swelled into a tight ball in the center of her tummy. Of course, she didn’t want to sound undeserving. However, the small lakefront town of Bellagio nestled between volcanic shaped mountains, two distinct lakes, and covered in bright colorful flowers, evoked such romance it was hard not to notice. Had he seriously gone this far to get her alone in a setting such as this? They really didn’t know each other, and she hadn’t been gracious about his advances so far.
“I wanted to be alone with you.” The words slipped from his mouth in a husky voice that caused her to glance over, intrigued. Mira stifled a smile over the intense way he focused on the road. Did he always take himself so seriously?
“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
He didn’t respond.
“Why do they call Bellagio the Pearl of the Lake?”
“Not sure. The temperature here is always nice,” he began. They drove slowly along the stone roads. She peered out at the little quaint shops. “The island town is a peninsula. It sits in the heart of the Lario.”
Intrigued, she glanced back. It was then she noticed the cars behind her. She was certain they were the same ones from Lorenzo’s villa. Mira parted her lips to say so when her gaze fell upon his profile once more. He had such strikingly handsome features. His hair was dark as coal and thick. It reached just behind his nape and smoothed back from his face. His brows were silkily black and his strong jawline fit his cool serious demeanor. A man of his height with such broad shoulders and chest should have appeared stuffed in the expensive sports car. Instead his reclined posture looked relaxed. He covered his eyes with dark shades, the lenses reflective. But from the profile she could see his gaze slip over to her. She returned her focus to the road to avoid the awkwardness over being caught once again staring.
“I’m sure whatever you’ve planned will be nice, but I do want to see the city a bit. Before we go back to the villa, that is.”
When he didn’t respond, she admired the scenery outside of the passenger window. His sleek sports car parked a distance from the stone white villa, he turned to her, removing his sunglasses and tucking them in his front shirt pocket. The Ferrari doors lifted. His steady gaze bore into her with silent expectation, and she felt compelled to look at him directly. “We’ll have to walk the rest of the way,” he said. “I’ve requested a private tour of the villa. This too isn’t allowed. I did it for you, Bella.”
There was a tingling in the pit of her stomach. Her mouth went dry, and she swallowed trying to remain unaffected by his nearness. “For me? You sure about that?”
“Meaning?” A sly smile eased across his lips causing a dimple to rise in his left cheek. The man sure was confident. He stared directly at her as if he were to be rewarded. So she gave him a polite smile and single shoulder shrug. “I think you have your own private motives.”
“You do inspire me. Yes, I have my motives. Does that make you uncomfortable?”
Mira laughed. “Thanks for being so honest. I guess not.”
“Good.”
Once out of the car, he strode around to her side to offer assistance. She accepted his hand and stepped into damp grass. The four-inch spiked heel to her strappy sandal sank deep in the moist earth. “Oh crap!”
“Something wrong?” His gaze dropped to her feet.
“I wore the wrong shoes obviously.” She lifted a foot and felt the other sink deeper. Before her hand slipped from his, a strong arm circled her waist. In a flash she was lifted, weightless. “Giovanni!” she gasped.
Effortlessly, he carried her around to the front of the car and placed her gingerly on her feet onto the stone pavement. “Better?”
She chuckled fixing her dress that gathered higher up her waist making the hem reveal too much of her thighs. “Yes. I guess so.”
Mira discreetly stomped her feet and dropped clumps of dirt from her heels. The wind blew her hair forward. She was glad she chose to wear a headband to keep her thick locks from her face. The connection she felt with him returned when his gaze lifted and latched to hers.
“I’m fine. Really.”
To prove her point she sashayed away. His long strides had him walking at her side in a flash. She glanced back and noticed they had a shadow.
“Is that man following us?”
“He and others.” Giovanni answered, not bothering to look behind him.
It was then that she noticed two other men. One across the street and another a few paces ahead of them. They were covered on all sides. Mira held back from questioning him. Together they walked along the path and passed a very distinctive hostel. His stroll was slow and easy. The view of the lake and the gentle serenity of the city had her head swimming with ideas. Maybe her fall line could have some photos with Zenobia shot here in Bellagio. The scene was perfect. She’d have to remember to run it past Fabiana.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are today?” Giovanni asked when he gently placed his hand on her lower back to steer her toward the open entrance of the gardens.
“Oh stop.” She rolled her eyes. His smile dimmed. Had she insulted him? He was trying so hard to impress her, and she wished he wouldn’t. Maybe she could glean just what type of man he really was if he said something more genuine. After they continued their stroll in silence for a while, she eased her hand into his, and it was a perfect fit. “How old is this place?”
The villa could be seen just beyond the trees erected between the foot of green sloping hills and the lake. Whoever designed it had a real appreciation for where the beauty of Bellagio could be best seen. Mira cast her gaze out toward the lake and again felt a warm breeze soothe her.
“This was built in 1808 for Duke Francesco Melzi d'Eril as a summer home.”
“How do you know the date?” she asked. “You sound like a tour guide when you say it that way.”
“School. The Duke was assistant general to Napoleon and Vice President to the royal Italian Republic. Every school boy knows about the Melzi d'Eril.”
“Oh.”
“The gardens are open to the public, but the villa often isn’t.” Exotic trees with long leafy branches trimmed into an umbrella arch shaded the walk along the slender road. Mira noticed their destination would end at a bleached white paved terrace before the villa. The landscape was bright and colorful with exotic blooms. She kept glancing over trying to think of how to continue a conversation with him, but when he looked her way she lost her nerve. It wasn’t just her. She noticed how he fumbled over his words or kept his jaw tight and his posture tense during their frequent uncomfortable pauses. Neither trusted the other to be themselves. That made her sad. It was such a romantic place.
“Do I make you uncomfortable?” Mira asked.
Giovanni chuckled.
“Is something funny?”
His stare was bold, and he assessed her frankly. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve felt less confident.”
“Why? Because we’re different?”
“Maybe, or maybe it’s just because you don’t know me.”
As strange as she found his statement, something within the message remained clear. The man was the biggest mystery to her and that was by design. She doubted few people knew who Giovanni Battaglia really was.
“Those are gorgeous.” She pointed to the wild blooms of red, lilac, and pink flowers. ”What are they?”
“Rhododendrons and a few azaleas. They aren’t my favorite. I will introduce you to my favorite flower.”
A man, tall and pale with a flat unreadable expression, waited for them at the center of the lower level steps. A divided picturesque stairway circled him and ended at the doors of the villa. On either side, four austere, large lions carved of stone stood guard. Mira’s mind conjured images of the days of Napoleon’s men bounding up the steps with their swords holstered in their royal uniforms. An elderly couple stopped to gawk along a trail to the east. She’d gotten a few
stares once she ventured out of Naples. At first in Milan they were because of her celebrity, but here she knew the stares were quite different. She figured not many people of color vacationed in Bellagio. There was a distinct feeling of privilege that went through her. She wasn’t sure if she liked it.
The overly tanned gentleman dressed in a dark navy blue suit stepped forward to greet them. His gaze volleyed from her face to Giovanni’s before their eyes could connect. He greeted Giovanni with a kiss to both of his cheeks. Strange. Men greeted each other in Italy this way often. At home, she’d never seen it done so freely.
“What did he just say?” Mira whispered.
“They’re ready for you.” Giovanni extended his arm for her to lead. She climbed the steps and went left up another spacious flight before walking through the villa doors. They entered a cool unnaturally quiet entranceway. Portraits hung above busts carved out of marble. Each bust depicted nobility and was centered on an elegant pedestal. They passed a few baby cannons that were aligned symmetrically and pointed north.
“This place looks like a museum.” She observed. Giovanni wasn’t at her side but a few steps behind. Mira tried not to walk with too much of a sway to her hips. She didn’t dare check to see how he watched her. Each time their eyes met, the pull on her insides made her courage falter. Even now her stomach fluttered with excitement from his unwavering interest. Kei was once passionate for her. Always attentive and romantic, their cultural differences in New York didn’t matter. Being different transformed her life.
The light sway of her hips made his blood hot in his veins. The hem of her dress only reached two inches above her knees. She had lovely toned legs, and with her feet perched in her high heel shoes, the calf muscles to the back of her legs bunched and her thighs became tight, shapely with each step. All of which excited him. Giovanni rubbed his jaw and shook it off. The lady wasn’t one he’d likely pursue. She challenged him too much, had too many opinions, and questioned everything she saw. He liked his women more accepting of things they didn’t know or understand.
A quick glance at his watch and he knew the business with Calderone required a few discreet meetings with the other families in this region. Word had spread of the raid of Lorenzo’s restaurant, and he intended to silence all wagging tongues. His cousin’s recent tantrum had not been forgotten. However, she compelled him to delay the matter, and this intrigued him. Dominic had made the arrangements for their day. A woman like her would expect to be romanced rather than seduced. He could aim to do both.
The villa didn’t often open its doors to the public. They would dine in the glass house with the panoramic view of the gardens. The staff had set the table over white linen with navy plates and gold utensils. The centerpiece had an elegant arrangement of blue roses; his mother’s favorite flower was among them. Dominic had an odd sense of humor. The sight of the flower made his heart skip a beat and his mood lighten. Should he share the reason?
“Oh how lovely! I’ve never seen a blue rose before,” she exclaimed. It was the reaction most women had when they saw the flower. He assumed it was also how his father seduced his mother away from her family.
“It is my mother’s flower. Our family grows them; we even have blooms here in the gardens.”
“Really? That’s the first time you mentioned your family interests.”
A sly smile lifted the corner of her rose-colored lips, and he felt his temperature rise. She liked to tease him. “Someday soon I’ll show you more about my interests.”
He eased out her chair, preferring to be the only man in the room to do so. Gracefully, she lowered into it and removed the dark blue napkin to spread across her lap. “This is sweet… all of this. I didn’t expect it.”
Giovanni held his tongue. He had no intention of apologizing further. In fact he found it surprising that she kept mentioning his prior behavior, especially since she had moved her business into property that was rightfully his. She was one of the few people living he’d ever apologized to. His father had probably sat up in his grave when the words fell from his lips.
“You American women like to lead.” He stated, his tone purposefully flat with little accusation.
The smile she offered in return was radiant. Her chocolate brown irises sparkled with curiosity. “Lead?”
“Yes, you and your friend are quite independent. Did you two build your company alone?”
“If you are implying that I didn’t need a man for my success, that’s correct. I have investors, but I own Mirabella’s. Fabiana and I have built our business from the ground up.”
“I’m not implying anything. I stated it.” Giovanni relaxed in his seat keeping his attention trained on her. She met his stare dead on. This, too, he appreciated. Her full bow shaped lips glistened with the loveliest rose-colored gloss, and her long lashes made even a blink from her a seductive invitation. “How is it? Being the boss?” he asked. The drink waiter came forward with a carafe of his selected wine.
“You tell me. Looks like you’re more of a boss than I.”
“A bit lonely at times. Unfulfilled?”
“No, not really. I stay busy.”
He nodded. “Which is probably why you’re so… uptight?” he mused.
“How dare you suggest that I’m cold?”
Giovanni released a gust of laughter. How did she make that leap? Cold? The heat radiating from her would warm any man’s bed, or heart. The last thing to cross his mind was her being cold. She missed his point. The woman reminded him of an overstressed spring ready to snap at the slightest prodding. Though she had her moments, such as holding his hand and the polite smiles during conversation, he could not really break through the force field around her. If he touched her without permission, she’d flee. He was certain of it.
“I would never presume you were cold. In fact, I find you quite remarkable. I’m only suggesting that like most people you have a lot to learn about what it will take to make you happy.”
“And you’re an expert on happiness?” she smirked. “Looks like your talents aren’t used for making people happy but evoking fear.”
“Fear? An interesting choice of words.” Giovanni glanced toward the private chef and drink waiter. He spoke directly to them in Italian and asked if they were afraid of him. The men glanced at each other then back to him not sure how to respond.
“What did you ask them?”
“If they were afraid.”
“Why ask them? They won’t answer you directly.” She glanced toward Renaldo who stood off to the corner of the room. “I’m sure even your hired escort tells you what you want to hear.”
Giovanni looked to Renaldo and smiled. “I guess you make a valid point, Bella.”
“I wasn’t trying to insult you.”
“Don’t apologize to me for speaking your mind. I will admit that I’m not used to it, but I don’t want you to ever feel that you can’t be yourself around me.”
“Are you a drug trafficker?” she blurted her next question.
The humor in the moment faded. In a flash, she went for his balls. Taken aback, he didn’t know quite how to respond, but the intensity in her stare suggested he say something. “What did you ask me?”
Clearing her throat, she spoke in a direct manner. “I realize the question is incredibly rude. I’ve wanted to ask it since I saw the men with guns. First the demands you made on me disguised as a favor for helping me with my business—”
“I’ve already explained that—”
“And now all of this. They treat you like you’re the Prime Minister. You aren’t the Prime Minister. Are you a drug dealer?” she asked again.
“No, we detest drugs. No one in my family or business deals in that poison.” He let the answer settle with her until he felt she relaxed a bit before he continued. “If you get to know me, you’ll find me as harmless as a lamb.”
It was her turn to laugh. “I doubt it.” Her plate was placed before her, then his before him. He had no appetite. But he did want t
o watch her eat. Everything she did aroused the sleeping giant in him. Maybe Lorenzo was right, and it had been too long since he had the pleasure of a woman’s company? It could explain the burning interest he had in this one.
She studied her breakfast. The chef poached some eggs and sautéed fish, scallops and sea urchin in olive oil and basil. This he explained to her. He’d been to America and knew that eggs were expected for breakfast. Everything else was his own special request.
“Sea urchin?” she frowned.
“It’s love on the palate. Give it a try.”
“I guess I’m not used to this.” Her gaze flickered back up to him and then swept the glass house.
“Used to what? A man taking a sincere interest in you?”
“A man as arrogant as you, who’s obviously dangerous, so intent on pursuing me. It’s a little hard to take at once.”
“How can I relax you?”
She sighed. “It’s not necessary, I’m relaxing.”
“No you aren’t, but thanks for pretending. Tell me what it will take to make you comfortable around me.”
Mira picked up her wine and sipped it. “Okay, how about a friendly game of Q and A?”
“Q and A?” he repeated not understanding her.
“Question and answer…I ask you answer.”
Giovanni stared at her for a moment deciding on the interrogation. “I’m willing to try,” he said not touching his food, preferring her and the new game between them. She smiled and put her glass back on the table.
“First question, where were you born?”
“Mondello Beach. It’s in Sicily.”
“Did you go to college?” she asked.
“I did.”
She stopped chewing. If she weren’t such a lady her mouth would probably be agape. Did she really think him a thug?
“You did?” She used her napkin to cover her mouth while she spoke.
“Shocked?”
“Oh, no. I mean… I’m sorry what school?”