He’d prepared the dark chocolate casings yesterday while Annabella had worked on the main structure of the sculpture. It was only their second day but they’d made a lot of progress. While they’d probably be working day and night, they were on track to unveil the showpiece at the festival by the end of the week.
He looked down at the checklist Annabella had prepared for him. ‘So I’ll finish off the espresso cream, then I’ll do the orange blossom, lemon-basil and quince fondant.’
‘And I’ve prepared the gianduja mousse and the dill ganache will be ready in a jiff,’ Annabella finished.
‘A what?’
‘A jiffy. You know, in a moment.’ She smiled over at him.
‘Ah, okay great.’
Alessandro had to admit they worked well together despite his deferential role. Or maybe because of it. As he’d insisted, they’d had the kitchen to themselves, and in between discussing each component of their project they’d worked in companionable harmony.
Creating a competition showpiece virtually from scratch in just five days was undoubtedly a formidable task and Alessandro had questioned his own ability as to whether he’d be up to it.
He hadn’t created anything since he’d left his father’s kitchen all those years ago, when he’d vowed never to return. But Annabella was in her element and had taken the reins with ease. She’d been right, under her guidance everything his father had taught him had come flooding back.
He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it. Missed the thrill of imagining a new product and then working towards that vision. Of sharing the evolutionary process with a collaborator and rejoicing in the success of an experiment.
Being in Annabella’s kitchen was like coming home. He never would have returned to chocolate making unless she had insisted it was the only option. But after the last twenty-four hours with her, he was glad he did. Annabella’s enthusiasm for all things chocolate related was contagious and Alessandro was thriving under her leadership.
He looked over at her standing at the stove on the other side of the counter. She was consumed in preparing the dill ganache filling. She stirred, tasted, added an ingredient, tasted again. After each taste, Alessandro watched her tongue lick her full lips and savour the flavours. She’d close her eyes for a moment before making her next move.
Alessandro marvelled at how he’d managed to control himself in her presence. Annabella lit up when she was experimenting and she exuded such intense sensuality. Her work required constant references to that luscious mouth he ached to consume again.
He was more than aware of the effects her secret ingredients had on him. An innocent taste from a spoon was like a sexual awakening of the senses. How had he been able to resist pulling her against his hardness and rejoice in the ecstasy their union promised them both?
His head had told him a thousand times that he had to abstain but his body hadn’t forgotten the intense pleasure of her touch. Now was definitely not the time. Everything rested on the success of this creation.
‘You’re doing an amazing job, bella,’ he said as he continued filling the rosette shell. He imagined piping the cream onto Annabella’s bare breasts before slowly sucking them clean, devouring each erect nipple in his mouth …
‘Thank you,’ she said looking over at him, innocently unaware of his sinful thoughts. ‘So are you. No one would know that you’ve had a twelve-year sabbatical. You’re a natural.’
‘Grazie, bella.’
‘Prego.’ She smiled. ‘But seriously, why did you leave? You would have had a wonderful career as a chocolatier. Surely the lure of the bachelor life in Rome wasn’t that strong.’ She arched her eyebrows at him.
‘No, that’s true.’ He smiled. ‘But it was an easier life.’
‘How do you mean? I can see that you love what you’re doing now. How was being in Rome easier?’
‘Freedom. I left Turin with nothing but my car. I spent all my savings on a red Fiat Cinquecento, you know those?’
‘Sure, I love those cute little cars. But aren’t you more of a Ferrari kind of guy?’ Annabella looked over and smiled at him teasingly.
‘For sure, now. But then, it was all I could afford.’
‘What? No trust fund?’ She gently mocked.
‘I didn’t want owe anyone anything. I’d buy a Ferrari when I’d earned the money myself. And I did. But you know, believe it or not, it doesn’t mean as much to me as that Fiat. I don’t think I realised how much until I sold it. It wasn’t flashy but I loved that car. It got me where I needed to go.’
‘To Rome?’
‘Eventually. But it was the freedom more than anything.’
‘Freedom from what?’
‘The city. My family. Don’t get me wrong; I loved working with my father, for the company. For sure, I saw that as my future then. But …’ Alessandro paused.
Why was he saying all this? He should have put an end to this conversation, not encourage more questions. How was Annabella to know that just thinking about that time sent his mind into a tailspin?
He’d never talked to anyone about that period in his life. He tried not to even let himself think about it. Yet in the quiet of the kitchen, alone with Annabella, she was somehow able to wriggle under the shield he lifted for no one. Like he was under some kind of spell.
‘But?’ Annabella looked at him questioningly, waiting for him to finish his sentence.
‘But I was eighteen and wanted to see the world,’ he lied. He avoided eye contact and studied the rosette in his hand as he carefully finished off the edges with a palette knife.
‘You didn’t miss it?’
‘You know, I thought that part of my life was over. But yes, I do miss it, I just didn’t realise how much until yesterday. And now, here with you.’ He looked over at her and held her gaze for a moment, before placing the rosette on the tray and picking up the next one to be filled.
He could feel Annabella’s eyes still on him, as though stuck in the moment.
‘Thank you, Ale. I think that’s the best compliment anyone’s ever paid me.’
‘It’s true, bella. You’re an inspiration and an amazing chocolatier. The way you’ve pulled this altogether after losing your notes. You didn’t need your journal after all, no?’
She continued stirring the ganache. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Instead they glistened with the hint of welling tears. She quickly looked down concentrating on the bowl of chocolate.
‘Bella, what’s wrong?’ Alessandro feared he’d mistakenly upset her.
‘Nothing,’ she said without looking up again. ‘It’s just … My mother gave me that journal, that’s all. It’s silly really.’ She carefully removed the pot from the heat and turned off the gas. She sniffed quietly and pulled a tissue from her apron pocket.
‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise.’ Alessandro got up and strode around the bench. ‘It’s not silly at all.’ He gathered her in his arms. He cursed himself for being so insensitive when Annabella had hold told him she’d lost her journal. His first concern had been for himself and the company. He hadn’t even considered the personal cost to her.
‘It’s just a stupid book, but it made me feel connected to her, closer, you know?’ Annabella gasped through her tears. ‘It was a part of her that was still here with me.’
She sobbed quietly against his chest and Alessandro held her tighter, wishing he could hug away her pain.
‘I can’t imagine losing something so precious.’
‘It’s really the only thing I had of hers that had any meaning, that contains part of who she really was. Our shared love, experience.’
‘You mean it was her journal? I’d thought it was a gift she gave to you.’
‘Yes, no you’re right, it was … It was for me to write in.’ Annabella stumbled over her words. ‘Mum began writing in it and then she gave it to me when … when she was really sick, you know, when she knew she—’ Annabella stopped as though the m
emory was too painful to revisit.
‘Sshh. It’s okay. I’m so sorry, bella.’ Alessandro held her tightly, swaying her gently in his protective embrace as she let out the tears she must have been holding in since she’d lost the journal.
He longed to soothe away her pain. His heart ached at the idea of this beautiful, vibrant woman consumed with such grief. She’d been a young girl when she’d lost her mother but old enough to remember the special relationship that was taken from her, making her grief all the more heartbreaking.
No wonder that journal was so precious to Annabella, it was a lifeline to the mother she’d lost. Alessandro remembered a time when he would have given anything for just one memory of his mother, let alone such a priceless object that contained the essence of her.
He was grateful, though, that he’d have countless objects to remember his father by, not to mention all the memories they’d shared. He felt a surge of guilt at the thought of the last twelve years shunning his father’s attempts at reconciliation. However misguided Valentino’s actions were, he did love his son. But it had taken a serious heart attack to bring Alessandro home. And now it may be too late.
As though sensing his thoughts, Annabella relaxed her hold of him. ‘You know, he’s going to be okay, Ale,’ she said, looking up into his eyes. ‘We’re going to win this thing and he’s going to be okay.’
Alessandro drew her back into his embrace and rested his head on hers. She could barely speak through the tears of her grief but still she was comforting him. He’d never experienced such empathy.
‘Are you okay, bella?
‘Sure. I’m okay.’ She stood back, wiping her nose with the tissue. ‘And once all those rosettes are filled I’ll be even better.’ She tried for a smile. ‘How are you going with the espresso cream?’ Annabella asked, looking over at his side of the bench.
‘They’ll be ready in a jiffy.’ He smiled down at her and they both laughed.
***
‘Okay, bella, it’s time to say goodbye to your baby,’ Alessandro said jokingly behind Annabella as she carefully adjusted their showpiece on the plinth.
Alessandro stood back admiringly, they’d definitely outdone themselves. Even here amidst the sumptuous grandeur of Caffé Torino, all brocade, gilt and chandeliers, their work stood out amongst the other competition entries.
‘Very funny. Don’t tell me you don’t feel just a little bit nervous about leaving it here.’
‘For sure, but we have no choice. The judges need a chance to view it before announcing the winner tonight, no? Relax, let’s check out the festival and give the press something to talk about.’ He winked at her, playfully taking her hand, hoping to alleviate her nerves.
‘Okay, you’re right I guess. Just one last thing.’ Annabella let go of his hand to carefully lift a small box out of her shoulder bag.
‘What’s this?’ Alessandro said hesitantly. This wasn’t the time for surprises.
‘Just a little something I prepared earlier.’
A coquettish smile played at the corners of Annabella’s mouth, distracting Alessandro’s attention from the box. Just the subtlest movement and he was imagining her beckoning him into her bed. Clearly the last few days in confinement with the alluring Annabella were taking their toll.
‘There.’ Annabella’s soft voice snapped him back to reality.
She delicately placed the tiniest chocolate replica of a Fiat 500 at the base of the sculpture. Poised as though ready to take the journey up the exquisite chocolate mountain to the intertwined ‘D’ and ‘C’ at the pinnacle.
Alessandro bent down, admiring the intricacy of the sculpted form. It was the perfect finishing touch. Both playful and steeped with significance; a nod to Turin’s industrial roots and an icon loved the world over.
‘Bella, when did you get a chance to make this?’ He marvelled. ‘It’s perfect. Perfect for the company’s message.’
Annabella nodded. ‘I thought so. But between you and me, it’s for luck, Ale,’ she said quietly. ‘It worked for you before, right? Look at how far you’ve come.’
Alessandro closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing Annabella’s words. He held his breath as his stomach dropped away. A foreign sensation pulsed through his body, a distant memory from his childhood: the sudden urge to cry. He clenched his jaw as he slowly drew himself upright, regaining his composure before meeting Annabella’s comforting gaze.
He searched her deep cerulean eyes, noticing for the first time sparkling flecks of gold dancing around her widening pupils. He remembered their conversation in the quiet of the test kitchen where he had unwittingly confided so easily in this sweet, insightful woman before catching himself.
Other women he’d known wouldn’t have thought to ask the questions, let alone listen to the answers. And isn’t that why he’d chosen them? No complications, no expectations. Not from him at least.
But Annabella was different. She looked beyond the facade of the De Costa veneer; she seemed to want to know more about him, not just the celebrity. And maybe he didn’t mind. In fact, he actually quite liked it.
‘Thank you, Annabella,’ he said softly, taking her hand.
‘You’re welcome.’ She smiled up at him. ‘Do you think we’ve got a chance?’
‘I think maybe we do,’ Alessandro said without breaking eye contact.
‘Okay then.’ Annabella took a deep breath and exhaled. ‘Let’s go.’
***
Outside Caffé Torino, Piazza San Carlo was buzzing with chocolate-fuelled activity. The CioccolaTó festival was like mecca for chocolate aficionados, attracting the world’s most successful chocolate manufacturers and chocolatiers. Why not take a little time out and enjoy? These were Annabella’s people after all.
Walking out from under the grand baroque porticos that surrounded the square, Annabella closed her eyes and tilted her head back to absorb the glorious sunshine that flooded the expansive piazza.
For a moment, the weight of the last few days seemed to magically lift from her shoulders and evaporate into the bright blue sky.
‘Mmmm, hazelnut, espresso, vanilla.’ Annabella inhaled deeply, comforted by the familiar aromas of her happiest memories that filled the air.
‘Almonds, cacao, mint.’ Alessandro joined in.
Annabella glanced over at him and noticed he also had his eyes closed as he identified each delicious scent that awakened their senses.
‘What else?’ he said, opening his eyes to return her gaze. ‘I’m getting hints of caramel, orange and—’
Together they both took a deep breath. ‘Coconut!’ they said in unison and laughed at the coincidence.
Alessandro took Annabella’s hand, leading her into the piazza to join the hundreds of other chocolate lovers milling about the specialty tents dotted around the elegant square.
Dressed casually in a fitted white shirt and jeans, among the distracted crowd Annabella felt almost incognito. Even holding the hand of the famous Alessandro De Costa. She hadn’t forgotten that they were on show, playing the couple, but this time it didn’t feel forced. For the first time since arriving in Turin, Annabella was actually starting to relax.
‘Bella, check that out.’ Alessandro drew her attention to the Parigi Chocolat tent. A growing crowd was forming around world-renowned master chocolatier, Philippe Merchant, who was carving a life-size sculpture of football star Vincenzo Rossi from Turin’s revered Juventus club.
‘Wow, that’s fantastic.’ Annabella smiled admiringly at the impressive creation.
‘What, even though he’s got his clothes on?’ Alessandro teased.
Annabella cringed, remembering her embarrassment that first time in the De Costa kitchen when she’d mentioned Merchant’s sculpture of the naked footballer to Alessandro. Clearly he remembered the conversation too.
‘You’re right, it could be better.’ She grinned up at him defiantly, no flushed cheeks this time.
‘Come on,’ he laughed wrapping his arm around her waist, drawi
ng her closer as they worked their way through the crowd towards the centre of the square.
‘Feel like a little dolce?’
‘Always.’ Annabella grinned.
‘The sun’s shining, how about gelato?’
‘Perfect.’
They wandered into the Gelateria Torinese tent. Annabella looked in awe at the vast array of flavours on offer in the glass cabinet. Salted caramel, wild fig, strawberry and mascarpone. The options seemed endless.
‘There’s no wrong choice, bella,’ Alessandro said, leaning down so she could hear him over the noisy crowd. ‘Trust me, even the vanilla will blow your mind.’
The soft brush of Alessandro’s stubble against her cheek as he spoke was capable of that. Just a subtle movement to the right and their mouths would connect. Soft lips electrified by that rough stubble that she already knew would tauntingly tingle well after the kiss had ended.
‘Okay, vanilla it is,’ Annabella said.
Alessandro raised an eyebrow at her, seemingly surprised by her simple choice. ‘Okay, okay,’ she said. ‘And a scoop of spiced tartufo as well, smartypants,’ she added.
‘That’s the Annabella I know and love.’ He grinned, pulling her under his arm affectionately as he ordered the ice-creams.
Annabella was surprised and enlivened by his words. Know and love? If only such a combination were possible. It was just an expression, and no doubt for the benefit of the growing attention of the surrounding crowd. But even so, it felt natural, being with Alessandro like this. Out and about on a sunny afternoon. More than a performance. Was that crazy?
‘Let’s promenade,’ Alessandro said, handing her the ice-cream then offering his elbow for her to hold.
Annabella linked her arm with his as she enjoyed the creaminess of the classic vanilla bean with the earthy richness of the tartufo. ‘You were right, this is sublime. What did you get?’
‘My new favourite.’ Alessandro leant down to whisper in her ear. ‘Chili chocolate.’ He winked at her.
This time Annabella couldn’t control the heat that flooded her cheeks at the hot memory of Alessandro’s embrace after the degustation. His hands on her bare skin, her breast in his mouth. His fingers …
Hot Chocolate Page 8