Captivated by Her Italian Boss

by Rosanna Battigelli

  Neve had to give Davide a lot of credit for accepting and carrying out his role as godfather. And her heart bled for the grieving he must have felt at the tragic news—and still must be feeling...

  A rush of tenderness swept through her as she thought of ways to comfort Davide. Not just by taking care of Bianca, but by taking care of him. Neve felt a sudden longing that she had never felt with any other man, and it made her catch her breath.

  She wanted Davide.

  Not just in the physical sense, but in every way imaginable. She wanted to nurture that spark from eight years ago into red-hot flames that would burn for a lifetime. She had disappeared from his life once, but fate had brought them back together. She couldn’t ignore or throw away the second chance offered to them, even if Davide was her boss.

  But what if Davide doesn’t feel the same? What if he’s just needing something—somebody—to help him get through his grief? What makes you think he would want you permanently in his life?

  Neve faltered at her inner voice. Maybe Davide had needed a physical release after the grief and pain of the past few months. She felt her cheeks burn at the memory of his passion, and how he had managed to make her reciprocate, even though it had been her first time...

  Neve bit her lip as her thoughts took a dark turn. Perhaps one of the three “princesses,” as Davide had called Bianca’s nannies, had had a physical relationship with him before he tired of her and dismissed her. Neve frowned. Did she really know what Davide’s true character was like? Maybe what she had seen on the outside was just a mask...

  A gorgeous mask that she had fallen for. Hard.

  No, she couldn’t believe—didn’t want to believe—that Davide had made love to her for the sole purpose of physical gratification. She couldn’t possibly have misread the tenderness in his eyes, and that look of wonder...

  Neve checked the time on her phone. Davide had told her to sleep in; he would see to Bianca’s breakfast and hers, when she came down to the kitchen. Neve smiled. She’d have a quick shower first, and maybe she’d be in time to watch Davide make the frittata he had promised her...

  * * *

  In the stillness of dawn, Davide watched the sun rise up like a gleaming orange persimmon on the horizon, and the pale blue sky brightening with streaks of pink and gold. He had already been up for an hour, gone to make himself an espresso and returned to his room to enjoy it.

  For the first time since Bianca had come to live with him, Davide had woken up without feeling like the proverbial weight of the world was on his shoulders. Without the responsibility of parenting seeming so serious.

  Not that it wasn’t serious, but since Neve had taken over as nanny, Davide had experienced some of the lighter moments of raising a child, and he had enjoyed them. Like the game of hide-and-seek. Bianca had laughed and he had, too, watching her squeal when Neve had gotten close enough to tag her.

  Davide felt his nerve endings tingle at the thought of Neve. Not in a game of tag, but in his arms last night, in his bed. He hadn’t planned it and he would have stopped the second she had shown any sign that she wanted him to stop... But she hadn’t.

  Discovering that he had been the first had taken Davide straight to heaven with the wonder of it. He had felt humbled, exhilarated and emotional all at once, and he had been careful to rein in his passion...until she was ready.

  Bianca’s call and knock on the door forced him to suppress any further thoughts of Neve.

  He called out for Bianca to enter and she joined him on his leather chair, her orca with her, which, she told him matter-of-factly, she had named “Berry.” Sitting on his lap, she watched the sun’s ascent with him and told him about the whales she had seen with her father, called “Granny” and “Onyx.” Davide listened quietly, inwardly rejoicing that Bianca was starting to talk about her parents without bursting into tears.

  And then she proclaimed that she was hungry. Chuckling, he headed downstairs with her, and after preparing her cereal and milk, went out to the garden to get snippets of parsley and green onions for the frittata. He whistled a tune that had been a hit a decade earlier, performed at the Sanremo Music Festival. Whenever it had played on the radio, his heart had felt a twinge. It had haunted him then with its romantic melody, but no more.

  Davide took out a bowl and as he beat the eggs with a mixture of milk, chopped parsley and pecorino romano, the cheese he preferred with its sharp bite, Neve walked into the kitchen. Davide stopped whistling, and his hand stopped beating. He took in Neve’s sleeveless coral dress with its big retro buckle that emphasized her slender waist, and its skirt that flared and reached just above her knees. A matching headband made her look like a fifties glamour girl.

  “Buon giorno, Neve.” If Bianca wasn’t with them, he’d have called Neve cara or bella or tesoro mio. But he couldn’t very well call her dear or beautiful or my treasure in front of his niece. At least...not yet. He motioned for her to join Bianca at the table. “I’m keeping my promise to cook for you,” he murmured as she walked by him. “Are you hungry?”

  She paused and fixed him with a wide-eyed glance. Lashes fluttering open and closed like exotic fans. Eyes with an intensity that sent coils of electricity spiraling throughout his body.

  “Very,” she said, and then noticing that Bianca was watching her, made a fierce expression, adding, “I’m as hungry as the wolf in The Three Little Pigs.”

  Bianca let out a little squeal. “You can’t have my cereal!” she laughed.

  Davide resumed beating the eggs. Neve had such a remarkable way with kids. She made Bianca smile and laugh, and after the sadness and tears since the accident, hearing that little tinkling sound come out of Bianca’s mouth, and seeing her brown eyes literally sparkle at Neve’s silliness, Davide couldn’t help but smile and laugh himself.

  It felt strange to feel lighthearted. The past few months had been anything but. He had wondered sometimes if he and Bianca would ever laugh again. Her previous nannies had not elicited anywhere near the kind of reaction Bianca had demonstrated with Neve. All three had left him disillusioned with their less-than-honorable motives. He had been determined to find the right nanny for Bianca, one who was genuinely interested in helping her, and not using her as a means to get to him.

  Aware of Neve’s eyes occasionally shifting from Bianca to him, Davide heated the pan with extra-virgin olive oil and sautéed the chopped onions before adding the egg mixture. When the edges started curling in, he flipped the frittata over by sliding it first on the bottom of the pan lid and then quickly flipping it over into the hot pan. When both sides were golden brown, he transferred it to a large plate, cut it into wedges and brought it to the table, along with a plate of tomato slices and a crusty roll.

  “I’ll let you serve while I get the coffee,” he said, and returned moments later with an espresso for himself and a cappuccino for Neve.

  Bianca finished her wedge of frittata quickly and went out into the courtyard.

  When she had gone, Davide looked closely at Neve. “Don’t you like it?” He looked pointedly at her half-finished plate.

  “No... I mean, yes, it’s very tasty. It’s just that...” She met Davide’s gaze directly and then looked down, her shoulders slumping. When she looked back at him, her brows were furrowed and her lips were pursed.

  “I don’t know how to tell you this,” she finally ventured.

  Davide’s stomach twisted. Was she going to tell him that she regretted last night? That she now wanted to leave? He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and hands clasped together in front of his mouth. The euphoria he had felt in his chest from just being with Neve started to seep out of him. Bracing himself, he said brusquely, “Just tell me.”

  Neve took a deep breath. “My mother is coming to Valdoro. She wants to meet you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  THERE—IT WAS OUT. Neve watched Davide closely, wanting
to see what his first gut reaction would be.

  It wasn’t what she had expected.

  The frown on Davide’s face had relaxed, and unclasping his hands, his mouth had become visible, showing a crooked smile. “Why?”

  “Why? Because she’s curious, impulsive. Her friends at the Villa Morgana told her that we had been seen at the bakery.” At Davide’s puzzled look, she felt herself flush in embarrassment. “They told her about you. Your success, your castle, your...”

  “Wealth,” he finished, nodding. “And she wants to come and see for herself what high society circles her daughter has gotten herself into...” His black eyes gleamed. “Does she know who I am?”

  Neve gazed at him for a moment, her heart contracting. No, her mother had no idea who Davide was as a person. She was interested in Davide Cortese as a celebrated author who lived in a castle and was “loaded.” But Neve knew that Davide was referring to the past...

  “No...she wouldn’t know that you were the one she wrote the note to...” Neve sighed.

  “The last thing I wanted was my mother around,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

  Davide leaned forward and grasped her hands. “You don’t need to be,” he said huskily, his thumbs caressing her palms. “Is she expecting to stay here?”

  “No, thank God.” Neve felt her shoulders relax. “She’ll be staying with her friends at the Villa Morgana.”

  Davide released one hand to cup her chin. “That’s just a peach,” he chuckled.

  Neve couldn’t help breaking into a smile. “Peachy,” she corrected.

  “Yes, just peachy.” He gave a deep laugh. “Or we could have prepared a room for her in the castle dungeon.”

  Neve laughed. “Is there really a dungeon?”

  Davide’s eyes twinkled. “It’s a cellar, and it actually has a secret tunnel that leads to a cave in the mountainside... Apparently, it was a hiding place for brigands in the eighteen-sixties.”

  “Brigands?” Neve stared at him incredulously. “Really?” She couldn’t help shivering. “And the owner of the castle knew about it?”

  “Probably. He may have been sympathetic to the brigands’ cause. They were rebelling against the ousting of the Bourbon regime during Italy’s Unification, mostly because of the hardships suffered by the peasants after the formation of the new government. The owner—a baron whose family had enjoyed the privileges of the old order for generations—probably used the brigands to covertly rebel against the government himself.”

  “Oh, my,” Neve murmured. “Sounds like a very dangerous time.”

  Davide nodded. “It’s a period known as il decennio di fuoco—the decade of fire. The government went after the brigands and employed the National Guard to find and capture them. And their women, the brigantesse.”

  Neve stared. “Their women went into hiding with them?”

  “Some, but if they were captured, the law was generally more lenient with them, sentencing them to life imprisonment in a workhouse.”

  “That was more lenient?”

  “More lenient than having them hanged or shot. Sadly, some ended up in the latter category.”

  Neve gave another shudder. She looked across at him with a sudden curiosity. “Do you know if...if any of your ancestors might have been briganti?”

  Davide’s eyes narrowed, glinting amusement. “Possibly. When I was researching the municipal archives, I came across the names of some distant relatives who had disappeared around that time...”

  Neve’s mouth dropped. She imagined the castle engulfed in fog over a century and a half earlier, and a brigand with Davide’s features furtively making his way through the castle tunnel with his brigantessa, and hiding out in the dark mountain cave. The brigand would have wrapped his cloak over his woman and she would have snuggled against him, trying not to think about the bats clustered in masses on the walls and ceiling...

  Davide’s laughter shattered her thoughts. “Wh-what?” She blinked at him.

  “You looked horrified for a moment. Did the thought of my possible brigand heritage shock you?”

  Neve looked at him sheepishly. “No... I was just thinking about the bats in the cave.”

  Davide’s burst of laughter made Bianca run over to them.

  “Zio, can we go to the beach this morning?” She turned excitedly toward Neve. “Did you bring a swimsuit?”

  Neve glanced at Davide. “Don’t feel you need to... I’m sure you have some work you might like to do...some writing?”

  “I can do that later. I have a better imagination at night...” Davide’s gaze locked with hers for so long that Neve began to feel a flush spread to the most vulnerable zones of her body.

  He glanced at the time on his cell phone. “We can leave in twenty minutes or so. I have a quick call to make to my publisher.” Davide grinned at them. “You ladies get what you need—sunscreen, hats, a good book... Have you read the latest Strega Prize–winning novel?” he said teasingly. He gave Neve a wink. “Ciao. I’ll meet you in the foyer.”

  * * *

  Davide watched Neve and Bianca walk toward the staircase, with Bianca reaching for Neve’s hand. He felt a rush of warmth at his niece’s gesture. She trusted Neve.

  And so did he.

  With a lightness he thought he’d never feel again, Davide called his publisher in Milan to tell him that he had returned to the writing of his novel. They discussed a few details and timelines, and then Davide scheduled another meeting with him for the middle of the week. And he could take Neve with him again...

  Whistling, Davide returned to the kitchen. His publisher had been thrilled, and he was just as thrilled. But right now he had other things to think about, like packing up a few items for the beach. They would be there till around noon, and Bianca would be sure to get hungry.

  He found a large insulated bag in the pantry and set it down on the table. He decided to keep it simple: panini and some cheese, olives and tomatoes. He gathered up a few more items from the fridge and a bottle opener. And finally, he added a bottle of red wine and two crystal glasses, wrapped up in several tea towels.

  Davide thought about Neve’s initial words, I don’t know how to tell you this, and how he had braced himself for Neve’s declaration that she regretted what had happened between them and that she would be resigning, no longer able to work for him under the circumstances... The tension had put his stomach in knots.

  But those knots had instantly relaxed with Neve’s announcement that her mother would be coming to Valdoro. Not that he was exactly delighted with the news, but it was something that wouldn’t cause his heart to break, like Neve’s leaving would do.

  Davide froze with a sudden realization. He didn’t want Neve to leave.

  Not now...or ever.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  NEVE ACCOMPANIED BIANCA to her room first and helped her with her swimsuit and clothes to wear over it. Bianca insisted on bringing Berry the orca with her. While Bianca waited in Neve’s room, Neve changed into a red one-piece swimsuit in her en-suite bathroom, and then slipped on a pair of white shorts and a green eyelet peasant blouse.

  As she brushed her hair in front of the dressing table in her room, Bianca came over and watched. “Can I brush your hair?” she said suddenly. “My mommy used to let me brush hers...and then she would brush mine. She would call me principessa when she did my hair.”

  Neve’s heart ached at the sad note in Bianca’s voice. She handed Bianca the brush. “Yes, of course you can, Bianca.” She leaned forward so she was eye to eye with the child. “I know you miss your dear mommy, Bianca. And your daddy. Just remember that they love you, and they want you to be happy.”

  “But why did they have to die and leave me all alone?” Bianca’s lips started to quiver.

  “Sweetheart, you’re not alone,” Neve said softly. “You have your Zio Dav
ide. He loves you, and your mommy and daddy chose him to take good care of you. That’s why they made him your godfather when you were born.”

  Bianca’s face puckered into a frown. “Did they know they were going to die?”

  “No, love. Just try to remember that when you’re missing them, think of something beautiful, like an angel, or a twinkling star, or a rainbow, and think of them being right beside it. Imagine it.” She smiled brightly. “Your mommy and daddy will always be in your heart and mind and memories, Bianca. And in your imagination.”

  “But that’s make-believe,” Bianca said, her chocolate-brown eyes widening. “I want it to be real.”

  “When you believe, it feels real,” Neve said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Now how about I pick a special name for you? Your mommy called you ‘princess,’ and since you’re taking such good care of your little whale, I’d like to call you—” she pretended to think “—Queen of the Orcas! How does that sound to you, Your Majesty?”

  “I like it, Miss Neve!” She grinned and proceeded to brush Neve’s hair.

  “And how about you just call me Neve?”

  “Okay, but can I sometimes call you Snow White?”

  A gentle cough made them both look toward the doorway. Davide was leaning casually against the door frame. How long had he been there? Had he heard Bianca’s words about her parents?

  Neve caught a glimpse of sadness on Davide’s face. Or was it just her imagination?

  “My telephone conversation didn’t take as long as I thought it would,” he said. “I came up to tell you we could leave as soon as you were ready.” His jaw muscles flickered. “So let’s go, Snow White and Queen of the Orcas! Your carriage awaits!”

  * * *

  “I should call you Miss Italy with the colors you’re wearing, Neve,” Davide murmured, his gaze sweeping over her again. That green peasant top that she had positioned just slightly off her shoulders, those white shorts that hugged her curves and the red peeking through the eyelets of her cotton blouse... Bellissima.