Captivated by Her Italian Boss

by Rosanna Battigelli

  Neve started at the sudden knock at her door.

  “May I come in?” Davide’s voice was calm.

  Neve’s pulse began to thrum. “Yes.” She took a deep breath as he entered. “How’s Bianca?”

  Davide took a few steps toward her then stopped. “She has calmed down,” he said, his gaze steady. “I told her that you wanted to give her a special gift. Then I suggested that every time she felt sad about her daddy, she could give the whale a hug. And her daddy would be happy, because he would feel the hug, too.”

  Neve felt her heart swelling. “Thank you. That was very insightful... You’ve given Bianca something concrete to do to deal with her feelings of loss.” She stood up and gazed at him, smiling with relief. “Is it okay if I go and see her now?”

  Davide’s mouth curved briefly. “Yes, of course.”

  He made a half turn then glanced back at her appraisingly. His gaze flew to the unmade bed, lingered there for several seconds, and returned to her. “I hope you’re finding this room comfortable and meeting your standards,” he said, his dark eyebrows lifting.

  Neve had felt a current sizzle its way through her veins at the way Davide’s gaze had swept over the bed, taking in her nightie tossed among the sheets. Feeling the warmth in her cheeks, she nodded quickly. “It’s very comfortable, thank you.”

  Davide nodded abruptly, opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment his phone rang.

  “Buon giorno, Lucia,” he said warmly, and with a quick nod at Neve, strode out the door, his voice carrying down the hall. Neve felt a twinge as he gave a deep laugh.

  Neve bit her lip. Would Davide ever laugh like that with her? Or speak about the past? Enlighten her as to why he had suddenly stopped going by the Villa Morgana? There were so many things she wished she had the nerve to ask him... But now was not the time. She closed the door behind her and hurried to Bianca’s room.

  Davide was putting his phone away and telling Bianca that he would take her for a gelato in town and that they would go to the market another day.

  Bianca gave a happy squeal and ran to him. “Is Signorina Neve coming, too?”

  Neve liked the way Bianca addressed her name the Italian way, just like he did. She smiled at Davide expectantly.

  * * *

  Davide felt his jaw tighten. “No. Signorina Neve is not coming.” He saw Neve’s smile disappear. “She can come next time.” Although he had been speaking to Bianca, he had kept his gaze on Neve. Davide saw her open her mouth as if to disagree with him and then shut it, a deflated look in her eyes. She was disappointed. And maybe a little hurt.

  Had he wanted to hurt her? Give her a taste of what rejection felt like? He pushed aside those thoughts impatiently. No, it was not his intention to strike back at Neve this way; he simply wanted to go over a few things with Bianca before Neve began her duties as nanny.

  The puzzled expression in Neve’s eyes at his abrupt “no” puzzled him. And that fawn-like innocence in her expression wasn’t helping to ease his conscience. As he strode away, the satisfaction that he had thought he’d feel turned out to be more like a twinge of remorse. He stopped and turned around. She deserved an explanation, at least.

  “Bianca and I may visit friends in town for a while,” he said, “or we might not. In any case, I’d like to go over a few things with her before you take over as nanny...” He paused to see if she would respond, but she just nodded. “If you’re hungry, feel free to go down to the kitchen and help yourself to anything in the refrigerator,” he added gruffly. “Ciao.”

  * * *

  Davide closed the side door of his Fiat van and then settled Bianca into her car seat in the back. Driving, he occasionally glanced in the rearview mirror at Bianca. She was hugging her whale, and Davide felt his heart constrict. He marveled at a child’s capacity for forgiveness and wondered cynically about his own propensity for it.

  Tesoro mio. Bianca was a treasure—and his now, to cherish, love and raise. He swallowed hard. He couldn’t bring back her parents, but he would do everything in his power to make her happy. And making sure she had the right nanny was at the top of his list.

  As Davide drove down the mountainside, an image of Neve flashed in his mind, and the momentary furrowing of her brows when he said she was not joining him and Bianca. A split-second action, but long enough to indicate that she felt hurt, confused that he would exclude her so soon after meeting Bianca.

  Could it be possible that Neve had totally forgotten how she had treated him in the past, how she had insulted him by telling him to “remember his place”? Maybe to someone else, those words might not have been a big deal, but they had delivered a sizeable blow to his ego. And heart.

  The words on the note might have been civil in and of themselves, but he had had no trouble reading between the lines: You’re not good enough to be with me. You’re inferior. Poor. You have no business trying to associate with someone in a class above you...

  * * *

  Davide enjoyed his second espresso at the Pasticceria Michelina while Bianca worked happily away at her hazelnut gelato. For a long time he had avoided coming to this bakery that had evoked so many painful memories and dashed hopes...

  Davide checked the time on his phone. He didn’t want to head back to the castle just yet. And he hadn’t really intended to visit friends in Valdoro; he had just needed some space. Time to think. Time to process the reality of having Neve Wilder living under the same roof with him and Bianca...and most important, to make sure Bianca was ready to be with her new nanny...

  * * *

  When they arrived at the castle, there was no sign of Neve. Davide’s pulse relaxed. He helped Bianca prepare for an early bedtime, and after reading her a story in Italian from the collection he had bought her, he gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Buona notte, tesoro,” he murmured. He set the book down on the night table and went to sit in the rocking chair in the corner as he always did until he was sure Bianca had fallen asleep.

  Davide had never imagined how a parent must feel until he had assumed the care of Bianca. Yes, he had visited her in Vancouver, but he had never had to provide for her in a material or emotional way. It had been the latter that had changed him. And it had made him aware of how Bianca had felt, bewildered and shaken...the same way he had felt, losing his father and his mother soon after.

  Sometimes, the ache of growing up without either of his parents had made him withdraw from situations where he’d have to witness his friends interacting with their families in their homes or at community events. It wasn’t that he had begrudged them their happiness; it was just that it made his own sense of loss that much more acute. He had felt more comfortable being by himself, either working on the farm or in his room, losing himself in books and later, writing...

  Before the accident, he had had only himself to take care of. Now he had a child. Not his biologically, but as close as it could possibly get. He no longer had the freedom he had enjoyed as a bachelor and celebrated author, but he didn’t care. Although the deaths of Violetta and Tristan had catapulted him into a whirlpool of grief and loss, they had also given him a new awareness of the fragility of life and his responsibility of raising Bianca.

  He had embraced that responsibility without any hesitation. Bianca belonged with him. He would protect her, care for her and provide every opportunity for her. He had loved her from the moment he had seen her, a week after she was born.

  Davide felt a twinge at the memory of Violetta holding Bianca up to him, her dark eyes shining with pride and love. She had swaddled Bianca in a soft pink blanket, and her tiny face, perfectly round and with open eyes, had melted his heart.

  Noting Bianca’s rhythmic breathing, Davide turned off the lamp and switched on her night-light. The two espressos he had had would keep him up for a while. Maybe now was a good time to go to his study and review the research notes that he had abandoned mont
hs ago...

  As he left Bianca’s room, he glanced across to the rounded door of Neve’s bedroom. Would she be in bed? Or by her window, looking out to the sea? There was no light emerging from the crack at the bottom of the door, and no sounds of movement. He imagined Neve in her filmy nightie, her hair reflecting the shaft of silvery light from the moon...

  Davide strode down the hall to his study and turned on his desk lamp. For a moment he tapped his fingers on the polished walnut desk. Who was he kidding? He was too restless to concentrate on his research notes. Sighing, he turned off the lamp and went to his room, hoping sleep would come quickly.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  AFTER DAVIDE AND BIANCA had left, Neve had gone downstairs and out into the courtyard with a book, but she hadn’t been able to concentrate. Why would Davide rush Bianca off so quickly after they had just met? She wondered at the real reason why Davide had been so adamant about her staying behind. Had she simply imagined that his gaze had hardened for a moment, as if she had done something to displease him?

  Whatever it was, she was determined to find out what the problem was.

  And then maybe he’d look at her again like he had eight years ago...

  * * *

  The tread of shoes in the hall outside her room had briefly registered in her light slumber, but Neve hadn’t fully awakened until she heard a series of shrieks sometime later. She jolted upright, disoriented, and then consciousness hit her like a wave.

  Bianca. Was she having one of her nightmares?

  She grabbed the matching robe and hurriedly put it on, tying the straps before bolting out the door.

  Bianca’s door was partially open, and Neve didn’t hesitate. In seconds she was at Bianca’s side. Bianca was sitting up, her face puckered and streaked with tears.

  “You’re safe, Bianca,” Neve murmured, putting an arm around her. “You must have been dreaming. I’m here.”

  “And I’m here.”

  Davide’s voice made them both direct their gazes to the doorway. In several strides he had reached the bed, and had crouched down to kneel on the mat. Taking Bianca’s hands, he gave them a kiss and then met Neve’s gaze. “You can go back to bed,” he said curtly. “I’ll take care of this.”

  Neve felt a stab of hurt. She had been hoping to comfort Bianca with a little rhyme she had shared with her kindergarten students after reading them a story about having bad dreams. “I just—”

  “I want her to stay,” Bianca cried, tugging at her uncle’s hands.

  Neve saw Davide’s jaw tighten, the muscles flicking as he gazed from Bianca to Neve.

  “If you wish, and if Signorina Neve doesn’t mind,” he said gruffly.

  “I don’t mind at all,” Neve said. She glanced at the bookshelf nearby. “Maybe I can read Bianca a story...”

  Bianca’s face brightened. She clambered out of the bed and ran to grab a book. Neve felt her heart melting at the sight of Bianca in her nightshirt, her golden-brown hair streaming down her back, her slender legs bronzed from the summer sun.

  Although she kept her eyes on Bianca, Neve was very conscious of Davide’s proximity. And gaze. He was still on his knees and inches away from her own. An image of his head cradled in her lap flashed in her mind, and her hand caressing his hair, and she felt a series of sparks shoot through her. She was sure her cheeks were flaming and she was glad when Bianca jumped back on the bed between them.

  “This is my favorite,” she said, turning the book to reveal the cover: Bianca Neve. “I’m in it!” She looked up at Neve, her eyes fluttering as if she just realized something. “And so are you! Can you read it to me?”

  “I don’t think Signorina Neve can read Italian,” Davide said brusquely. “I’ll read it.”

  “I can read it,” Neve said quickly. “I studied Italian in high school and at university.”

  “Va bene.” Davide nodded, crossing his arms.

  Neve’s heart flipped. She had expected him to leave the room. Bianca thrust the book toward her. Neve felt as if she was on a stage with the spotlight gleaming down on her. Lifting the cover that displayed Snow White in the arms of the prince, she turned to the first page, took a deep breath and started reading...

  “C’era una volta...”

  * * *

  Davide felt something tighten in his chest at the sight of Neve reading in Italian to Bianca. As if someone was squeezing his heart. He tried not to wince. Was he resentful of Neve? Jealous? No... The pain came from the thought that his sister, Violetta, should be the one tucking Bianca in at night, comforting her after a bad dream, reading her a story. Not a stranger. He swallowed and felt himself clenching his teeth.

  He was angry.

  Angry that God had taken away his only sister. Angry that at least one of Bianca’s parents couldn’t have survived. Furious with God that Bianca had to suffer this loss at so young an age. And frustrated that he didn’t have all the answers to making things better for Bianca. And himself.

  He stroked Bianca’s hair absentmindedly. Poor child. He felt a protective surge run through him. He squeezed his eyes tightly to stop the tingling at the backs of his lids.

  When they reopened, they settled on Neve. He watched the flitting of expressions on her face as she became each character on the page. Heard the lilting cadence of her voice in an Italian that was charming, with only a few syllabic mistakes. Saw how totally absorbed she was, looking up regularly to meet Bianca’s enthralled gaze. She must be a wonderful kindergarten teacher.

  This thought collided with the impression he had held about her for the past eight years. She was spoiled, entitled, arrogant, a tease. She had teased him with her gaze every day on that balcony, hadn’t she? She had appeared around the time he was returning from the farm. Had sat there with a book, or a cool drink, or had stood watering the flowers. Except for the first time their gazes locked, she hadn’t averted her gaze, which, even from several paces away, reflected a mutual attraction. And a hundred thoughts had flitted through his mind, a hundred ways that he could try to meet her and get beyond the stage of just devouring her with his eyes...

  And then she had shattered any hopes he might have had by expressing her true feelings in that note... She had probably gotten a real kick out of imagining his reaction upon reading it...

  “E vissero felici e contenti...”

  And they lived happily-ever-after...

  He started at Bianca’s sudden clapping. All signs of distress from her dream had gone. Neve’s face was flushed, her mouth curved in a smile as she gazed at Bianca.

  He felt the initial tightness in his chest suddenly dissolve. No matter what Neve had done in the past, she had done something just now that he couldn’t fault. For the second time today she had made Bianca smile and laugh.

  He had worried that Bianca would never display the lightheartedness that was part of her character before the accident, the lightheartedness inherent in most children. He had done everything possible to lift her spirits these past few months, even when his own spirit had felt dead. After what seemed like an unbearably long stretch, she had finally rewarded him with a smile, then two, and he had cheered inwardly, knowing that she had started to move along the lengthy road toward healing.

  But she was still a long ways off. And so was he.

  He stood up. “Well, Bianca, now you can have a good sleep. Say good-night and thank-you to Signorina Neve.” He riveted his gaze to Neve, who stood up promptly.

  Bianca complied and gave Neve a shy smile before putting her arms around her uncle’s neck and kissing him on the cheek. She settled under the covers and Davide tucked her in.

  “Buona notte, Bianca,” Neve said softly.

  Davide flicked off the light switch, leaving only a night-light on. When he and Neve were in the hall, he gazed down at her. Despite the shadows under her eyes, she was still a beautiful woman. And in minut
es, she would be taking that robe off and going to bed herself...

  His pulse quickened. Don’t go there, his inner voice reminded him. You’ve tormented yourself enough over the years, imagining her...

  “Buona notte, Signorina Neve,” he said huskily, “e grazie.”

  “Buona notte,” she said with a quick nod. “And you’re welcome.” She turned toward her room in the turret.

  He watched until the last thing he saw was the swirl of her robe and the door clicking shut.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  NEVE WOKE UP with a dream that she was lost in a dark cleft of the Aspromonte mountains, and that she was calling for help, but the only response she got was from the howl of an Apennine wolf. She sat up in a sweat, her breathing accelerated, and despite the earliness of the hour, knew she couldn’t get back to sleep.

  After a quick shower Neve wrapped a turquoise towel around her head and put on the white robe that was hanging on the back of the door. She’d take a minute to check on Bianca.

  Neve glanced across the hall. Davide’s door was partially open. She felt a quiver run through her, wondering if he was still sleeping...

  She hurried into Bianca’s room and smiled at the sleeping figure. Poor baby, she needed the rest. Back in her room, Neve retrieved a paperback from her handbag and plopped down into the burgundy recliner by the window.

  * * *

  When she heard movements in Bianca’s room, Neve put down her book and checked the time. She was shocked that two hours had gone by. She hurried over and saw that Bianca had changed into a T-shirt and shorts. Neve greeted her warmly and told her to wait while she changed, and then they could go down to the kitchen together.

  Neve decided on a red skort and a white peasant-style top with short, gathered sleeves. As she slipped on white sandals, her phone signaled an incoming text. She glanced at the series of long messages and felt herself tensing. Had her mother forgotten that she would be busy with her job? Before she left the room she quickly replied.