Eyeing the enormous claw-foot tub, she imagined it would be better suited for two, and she couldn’t stop the thought that perhaps Davide had made use of it in the past...
Lathering herself in the shower, question after question filled her mind: Why had Davide stopped walking past Villa Morgana? Had he been sorry to see her go? Had he married? What had made him choose such a remote location in which to live? And besides wanting a qualified nanny for Bianca, had he hired her for another reason?
She’d have to be patient for the answers. If he ever chose to enlighten her.
After changing into a striped coral T-shirt and mint Capri pants, Neve made her way down to the kitchen. Davide was having an espresso but put his demitasse down and stood up, greeting her with a “Buon giorno, Signorina Neve. Espresso o cappuccino?”
Neve returned the greeting. “Cappuccino, grazie.”
Moments later Davide returned with Neve’s cappuccino and a tray of biscotti and assorted pastries. A platter of fruit was already on the table, along with little tubs of yogurt.
Neve thanked him again and took a sip of her cappuccino. She eyed the assorted pastries. Were they from the Pasticceria Michelina? She chose an almond brioche with custard filling and after taking her first eager bite, she couldn’t help sighing with pleasure.
A smile flashed across Davide’s face, showing perfectly straight white teeth. A warm feeling spread inside her at how absolutely gorgeous he looked when the outside edges of his eyes crinkled... “I’m going to enjoy these while I can,” she said, tilting her head in feigned defiance. “When in Rome, as they say...” She took another bite.
“You have custard on your nose, signorina,” he informed her drily.
“Oh!” Neve gave an embarrassed laugh. “It’s a good thing you told me before I ended up swimming in custard.”
Davide gave a wry laugh. He leaned across the table to wipe the custard off Neve’s nose with a napkin. She blinked and then reached for a marzipan pastry and popped it into her mouth, her gaze locking with his as he brought his cup to his lips.
* * *
God in heaven, he was having some unholy thoughts. And memories of Neve swimming while he and Agostino watched... Davide set down his demitasse. The image of Neve swimming now—
“I—I wasn’t expecting you to be working here as an author...”
“You mean to be doing your job with me around?” His eyes pierced hers. “I suppose that wasn’t mentioned in any of the correspondence. Well, now you know.” He watched Neve’s blue-green eyes blinking a little more rapidly than before. “Don’t worry, signorina, I won’t be following you like a lost puppy.” He gave a curt laugh but this time, his raven eyes were devoid of humor. “You do understand that the three of us will be spending certain times of the day together?” He leaned toward her, murmuring, “I am hoping that we will be able to establish a workable routine...for the sake of my niece.”
“Of course, Signor Cortese,” she replied, this time a little stiffly. “I am here to do my job, and nothing else.”
And nothing else... Was she referring to their mutual flirting eight years ago, signaling that she had no intention of venturing in that direction? And why should she? She had made it quite clear in her note that she considered him below her. He nodded and abruptly stood up.
“Since Bianca is not here and it’s a beautiful day, I thought you might want to consider going for a ride in the countryside to the market in Reggio.”
“I...well, yes, okay. That would be...nice.”
His gaze swept over her face and bare arms. “Did you bring a sun hat? The temperature was thirty-two degrees Celsius an hour ago. The sun will bake your fair skin.”
“Yes, I have one in my room.” Neve stood up and started to gather the cups and dishes, but Davide put up his hand. “Please leave those. You are not here as a housekeeper. That is not your place.”
“But your housekeeper’s not here...”
“I’ll take care of them.” His voice brooked no argument. “I’ll be waiting for you in the foyer.”
* * *
Davide held the door of his Alfa Romeo open for Neve, his eyes sweeping over the curves of her slim body and the soft lines of her profile. He rolled up his sleeves and took his place behind the wheel. He caught a whiff of Neve’s perfume, a delicate floral scent that reminded him of an awakening spring garden. A glance her way confirmed she had fastened her seat belt, and he repressed his desire to linger on the curves of her body so tantalizingly close to him. He was glad she was looking out her window, though, reluctant for her to see the desire in his eyes.
He couldn’t deny it. He still desired her, despite her past rejection of him. Despite the eight years that he had tried to extinguish that desire. But what good would it do to let her know how he felt? Or to show her? And risk being rejected once again? He reached for his sunglasses and concentrated on driving. No, he needed her now for one purpose only. And that was to do the job she had been hired to do.
As he maneuvered his way carefully down the mountainside, he noted how rapt Neve was with the view. She was leaning forward in her seat, taking in the stretches of woodland, the dizzying drops of ravines and the dazzling blue of the Ionian Sea. Several times she swayed toward him when he rounded a corner, and once her bare arm skimmed his forearm. The unexpectedness of her soft skin against his made him swerve slightly, and he cursed inwardly for his reaction. Stay in control, man, he berated himself.
When he reached the turnoff at the bottom of the mountain leading to the main coastal highway, he inserted a CD of classic Italian hits from the yearly Sanremo Music Festival, and for the next forty minutes, drove along the coast. The market he was heading to was in the capital city of Reggio di Calabria, and not sure if he had mentioned this to Neve, he turned down the music and told her.
Neve’s eyes lit up. “Oh, wonderful! We had come to Reggio to take the ferry across to Sicily, and we did have time to go to the museum to see the famous Bronzi di Riace, but we missed the market.”
“And what did you think of the bronze sculptures?” He was interested about her impression of the eight-foot-high statues discovered in the sea near the boundary of the Marinas of Riace and Camini. They were thought to be representations of Greek warriors created during the era of Greek colonization of Southern Italy.
Neve flashed him a curious look. “They were...amazing, just like the other items in the museum. I loved ancient history when I was a teenager—and I still do—and I remember thinking it would be great to become an archaeologist and go on digs and discover something fabulous.”
She laughed, a sweet, gurgling sound that reminded him of the brook on the outskirts of Valdoro.
“So what made you decide on teaching?”
She laughed again. “I realized I liked kids more than digging.”
He couldn’t help chuckling. He stole a glance at her and felt his pulse jump. She looked so...fresh and wholesome. And now that he was physically closer to her than he had ever been in Italy, he could see the sprinkling of freckles over her nose and part of her cheeks. Charming.
“I babysat a lot in my final years of high school and through university.” Neve paused, smiling, as if she was remembering some of those moments. “We lived in an upscale neighborhood with lots of CEOs, both male and female. Lots of late evenings, social events, staff parties, last-minute business trips. And kids of all ages. Bouncy babies all the way up to testy teens.” She gave another tinkling laugh. “I never had to work at another job. I spent many evenings and most weekends looking after all these kids. And plenty of overnights, too.”
“It sounds like you enjoyed it, that it wasn’t a—what is the word?—chore? Most teenagers would rather be out socializing...and on dates.” He kept his eyes on the road, but when she didn’t respond right away, he glanced quickly at her. Had her cheeks become more flushed?
“I wasn’t
much of a socializer,” Neve murmured. “I was kind of shy...”
Davide didn’t know how to respond. This picture of Neve was so different from the one he had drawn up after she sent him that note. A picture that had grown more and more dark, at least when it came to Neve’s personality.
She was confusing him. Making him doubt his previous perceptions. Maybe he had misinterpreted her note based on his insecurities at the time. He had felt somewhat inferior. Not inferior in character, but in wealth and status. His ancestors had been landless laborers and his parents, although they had managed to acquire a piece of land to farm, had enough food to provide for their family, but barely enough for extras.
Davide and Violetta had worked alongside their parents after school and on weekends to carry out all the seasonal rituals: drying tomatoes in the summer sun, picking mushrooms in the fall, harvesting vegetables and fruits, picking olives, getting them pressed into oil, growing and picking the winter greens and seeding in the spring. The only socializing they had done was at communal activities, such as the chestnut roast in early winter, or during the religious processions for their town’s patron saint, San Nicola. And it had been even more work-intensive after their parents had died.
No wonder Violetta had jumped at the opportunity for a new life in another country. After she had married Tristan, Davide had been left to carry out most of the work on the farm, since their uncle had obligations not only in Valdoro but also in the next community. It was after Neve’s message that Davide had felt the stirrings of dissatisfaction in what he had been doing. He had wanted more. And fortunately, when he had expressed his desire to pursue his masters degree, Zio Francesco had sold the farm, actually relieved to not have to worry about its upkeep. He had divided the money three ways, and had provided Davide with the means to continue his studies, Violetta with a cash endowment and a nest egg for himself. Sadly, his uncle had died during Davide’s last year at university.
A series of honking and bleating made Davide slow down and then come to a full stop. A herd of goats was haphazardly crossing the road, and traffic had stalled on either side to let the animals pass. The goatherd ambled along as if he had all the time in the world, oblivious to some of the impatient calls from the vehicles. His dog was scrambling about, doing its job, its sharp barks adding to the cacophony.
Neve had leaned forward, clearly delighted with the whole scene. Their windows were rolled down, and Davide couldn’t help laughing at some of the more colorful remarks aimed at the goatherd, who grinned good-naturedly and ambled on.
“The market’s not far now,” Davide said. “A couple of minutes...” He maneuvered his way through several congested streets, looking for a place to park, and then finally pulled into a spot two blocks away. “Wait here a moment,” he told Neve, and climbed out of the vehicle to go around to her side. He opened the door and held out his hand. “Prego. Please allow me...”
Her turquoise eyes widened and she hesitated briefly before taking his hand. As she stepped out, she used her left hand to put on her sun hat and as she took a step forward, she stumbled over one of his feet. Davide immediately encircled her with his other arm and helped her regain her balance. “I’m beginning to think you’re deliberately trying to trip me, Signorina Neve,” he said wryly. “Three strokes and you’re out.” He smiled, attempting a joke.
“It’s three strikes,” she blurted.
Davide watched Neve’s face flush before his eyes.
“Yes, of course,” Davide replied gruffly when the different meanings had registered. “My English is not always...exact.” He let go of her. “My apologies.” Now, how was he supposed to get that suggestive image out of his mind?
A few people walked past, smiling at them.
“Che bella coppia.” He heard a lady say. “Avranno dei belli bambini in famiglia.”
What a beautiful couple. They’ll have beautiful babies in their family.
Neve must have heard it also, and for a second their gazes locked and the sounds around them seemed to meld into a distant hum.
It took every ounce of Davide’s energy to keep the stab of pain in his heart from showing on his face.
CHAPTER NINE
NEVE COULDN’T BE SURE, but she thought she saw something flicker in Davide’s expression.
A momentary crease in his forehead, as if a headache had started. Had the lady’s comment hit a nerve? Had Davide been struck by a surge of grief at the mention of family? After all, his family had been shattered with the loss of his sister and brother-in-law. And how could he not feel the loss that Bianca was experiencing?
Neve felt a rush of empathy toward Davide. Poor man. What an enormous responsibility he had on his shoulders. She didn’t doubt that he loved his niece, but from her experience with single parents of children in her class, he would need a lot more to sustain him in the difficult months, and maybe years, ahead.
She wondered if Davide had been able to express his grief to anyone. This made her think of the loss of her father, and how she had wished she had been able to share her grief with her mother... Feeling a prickle behind her eyes, she averted her gaze. She was relieved when they finally reached the market grounds.
The sights, smells and sounds made an instant impression on Neve, and for a moment she just stood there, gazing around at the colors and bustling crowds. Her nose crinkled at the strong smell of fish and seafood. A nearby vendor had a swordfish on display, its two halves glistening on a heavy plank, its eyes glassy. “Pesce spade, pesce spada, signore e signori. Swordfish, ladies and gentlemen. Fresher than a gentleman from the south of Italy!”
The nearby crowd erupted in laughter, and Neve couldn’t help joining in. She saw that Davide had a smirk on his face.
Neve was looking forward to going through the vendor stalls and finding something unique to the area for herself. Suddenly, she felt as if everything was right in her world. This is where she was supposed to be, in a market in Southern Italy, among the bustling crowds, surrounded by bursts of color and the sounds of parents cajoling or scolding, their children laughing or crying, and couples bartering with animated gestures to vendors who were just as animated.
Neve had studied the standard Italian, but she was able to pick up some of the Calabrese dialect she heard and couldn’t help smiling at the singsong nature of the voices of two women perusing the products displayed on the table at the next stall.
When they reached the stall, the ladies had moved on, and Neve was able to clearly view the delicate lingerie items displayed on the lacy tablecloth below.
Neve felt her cheeks tingle with heat and she didn’t dare look at Davide. There were samples of silky bras and panties, sold separately or in sets, in colors ranging from delicate pastels to dusky purple, red and black. There were also exquisite nighties with Venetian lace accents in elegant boxes. Her gaze lingered on a filmy coral nightgown with intricate rose lace edging. If she had been here on her own, she might have been tempted to buy it...
The vendor was an attractive man in his late thirties or early forties, and the way he was sizing up her size and shape made Neve want to squirm, especially with Davide looking on. To add to her mortification, the vendor winked at Davide and suggested he treat “his lady” with a regalino da ricordare, a gift to remember. And then a second wink.
Neve felt as if she were melting under a bright spotlight. She gave a self-conscious laugh. “No, grazie,” she told the vendor and turned away. “I was thinking of a different kind of souvenir,” she murmured to Davide in English. “Like something for the kitchen.”
“But you can use any of these items in the kitchen,” the vendor replied with a laugh.
Neve’s cheeks burned. She hurried past to the next stall, which featured handbags and shoes. A few stalls farther down, they came to one selling pottery. Although the stalls provided some shade with their awnings or large beach-style umbrellas, Neve felt the Calabri
an heat affecting her. Her hat helped, but even with her T-shirt and Capri pants, she felt overdressed and overheated.
She closed her eyes for an instant and felt herself swaying slightly. And then she felt Davide’s arms bracing her, the citrus scent of his cologne tingling her nostrils. “You need water,” he said huskily, his touch and words jolting her. She blinked at him wordlessly. “You stay here. I’ll go buy some.”
Davide called to the vendor, who quickly ushered Neve toward a chair behind his main display table. She sat gratefully, but was annoyed with herself for her momentary weakness. Davide came back with two bottles of water. He opened one and handed it to Neve.
The water wasn’t refrigerated, but it refreshed her all the same. She drank half the bottle without stopping. Davide finished his bottle and then offered to hold Neve’s while she looked around. “You’re sure to find something you like for your kitchen here,” he said, a gleam in his eyes.
Neve handed him the bottle and nodded, her pulse reactivating. She quickly turned to the collection of pottery. Davide chatted with the vendor while Neve looked over the items, but as she tried to decide on the glazed or unglazed ones, she sensed his gaze on her...
* * *
Neve’s head was bent, her strawberry-blond hair falling in front of her. The sun reflected in the strands, made them look like gilded waterfalls. He caught his breath.
What were the chances of a nanny called Neve taking care of his niece, Bianca? Snow and white. Snow White. He felt a corner of his mouth lifting. As the vendor moved away to attend to a customer, Davide couldn’t help thinking about fate again. Fate and fairy tales.
Fairy tales had their dark elements, both physical and psychological, and his and Bianca’s lives had certainly had their share of those. And they also usually involved a physical and inner journey—with periods of isolation, daunting challenges and malevolent forces—finally leading toward a happy ending.
Captivated by Her Italian Boss Page 7