“Yep, and now I’d like you to keep a close eye on them while I wash my hands,” she said, as she handed me a spatula before going to the sink.
She finished up then turned towards me, a playful smile on the same beautiful face that had looked on me with scorn when we met this morning. Now, I was seeing the warm and fun Letizia, and it was bringing about a distinct swelling in my manhood that I feared might make me become the belle of the blue balls. Of course, it certainly didn’t hurt that the long warm rays of the afternoon sun were making her glow like an angel—illuminating her thin black dress and allowing me to enjoy an excellent view of her figure. Sweet Lord! It was even more tantalizing than when she was standing above me on the deck.
“How about a glass of wine?” she asked.
“Love one.”
She went to a cupboard, pulled out two glasses, then poured us each some red wine.
“Salute,” she said, clinking her glass to mine.
“Salute,” I responded, before taking a sip.
It was particularly delicious, and, while I wasn’t exactly a wine snob, I knew a good one when I tasted it. Of course, it was hard to live as close to the Napa Valley as I did and not know something about wine. I reached over and turned the bottle around so that I could see the label and had to laugh. It was from California. What had the world come to when a half-Italian, half-French woman was drinking American wine? And to think that they say we Americans have no culture.
“Nice wine,” I said.
“Yeah, it’s from the Napa Valley.”
“I actually live about forty minutes from where this was made, but it took traveling over 6500 miles before I finally tasted it.”
“It’s funny how life can be like that. I take it that you don’t go wine tasting very often?”
“Not really. Only when friends or family come to town.”
“It never fails—we always take the things around us for granted.”
“No shit, and would you believe that I’ve never even walked across the Golden Gate Bridge?” I asked.
“That’s too bad. Maybe when I next visit San Francisco we could walk it together.”
“That would be nice since we’d both be virgins.”
“Yes, virgins indeed,” she said, as she smiled and took a large sip of wine, her eyes staying on me an inordinately long time.
“So, what’s on the menu for tonight?” I asked.
“I was thinking of doing penne pasta in a light chicken and vegetable sauce with a caprese salad on the side.”
“Sounds pretty fucking amazing.”
“Good. Can you cut up the tomatoes and mozzarella cheese?”
“Sì, sì,” I said, taking a knife out of the rack on the counter and setting to work on the tomatoes and mozzarella.
Letizia finished cooking the chicken then cut it into smaller pieces and added some garlic, chopped onions, olive oil, chicken stock, and white wine, but kept the broccoli in a separate pan so that it didn’t get overdone. Next, she put a huge pot of water on the stove for the noodles, and that meant we now had a little downtime to sit at the counter and enjoy our wine.
“So, Tag, if you don’t work for the CIA then what exactly is your part in all of this?”
“Excellent question, though the answer is a little complicated, because I used to work for the CIA, but now I’m actually a private investigator working as an independent contractor.”
“So, this is a temporary thing?”
“Pretty much.”
“And why did they hire you?”
“That’s the complicated part, and there’s a shit ton of history behind that answer.”
“I’m an archeologist. I’m used to spending my time sifting through shit-tons of history, so I’d love to hear your story.”
I took a sip of wine then started with my recap and tried to keep it short though interesting. That meant explaining how Bridgette showed up on my doorstep and hired me to go to Soft Taco Island and rescue Lux from Babs’s evil clutches. That, of course, also entailed telling her about my work history as well as my storied past with Lux and the fact that I owed her a life debt—all of it working together to make me the perfect person for the job.
“Wait a minute. My brother was seriously holding Lux prisoner?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“Because she was trying to thwart his latest arms deal which would have supplied weapons for the largest terrorist attack since September 11.”
Letizia looked completely shocked and needed a moment to calm down.
“Honestly, I—I can’t believe my brother would be involved in anything like that. He despises terrorism and fighting it is one of the main reasons why he joined the French Navy after university.”
“Apparently, he’s had a change of heart, though having gotten to know him better over the last few days it does seem out of character. Unfortunately, I was there and saw it all with my own eyes.”
She took a large sip of wine, and I could see concern clouding her features as she contemplated the fact that her brother was an unscrupulous arms dealer.
“Fucking Adrien! What the hell was he thinking?” she blurted out.
“God only knows. It’s not as though he needs the money.”
“Definitely not. Oh well, I’m sorry to interrupt. Please continue,” she said.
“Well, needless to say, it all worked out, and I managed to rescue Lux and sabotage the arms deal, but your brother got away—and that’s when the CIA hired me to come to Europe and bring him and Bridgette back in.”
“And they used you instead of their own people?”
“Yeah, with Bridgette being Lux’s little sister, it was a little embarrassing, so the people in charge wanted to keep it all off the CIA’s official radar.”
“So, that’s the whole story?”
“Pretty much, though I left out all the exciting details of how we’ve been evading an army of terrorists and a mysterious black ops team who have all been trying to kill us since we left Switzerland.”
“So, my brother wasn’t kidding when he said you had done a lot to keep him alive.”
“Afraid not—it’s been a hell of a thrill ride, though I can’t say it’s been all bad. Coming here and meeting you is definitely the high point.”
Letizia smiled then turned quiet as she took a moment to think.
“Honestly, I still can’t get over the fact that he was willingly supplying terrorists.”
“Yeah, I imagine that’s a tough one—and I have to admit that I’ve really come to like him in spite of it all.”
Letizia filled our empty wine glasses and stared at me thoughtfully, her green eyes aglow as she placed her hand on mine.
“I’m sorry for judging you before I got to know you.”
“It’s OK. I’m sure this all must have looked pretty bad from your perspective.”
“It did, but not anymore.”
Letizia was quiet, her hand still holding mine, and, with each passing second that we spent together, I got the distinct impression there might just be some legitimate sexual tension. Either that, or I was falling prey to my very vivid male imagination, and the only real sexual tension was in my pants. Of course, Babs appeared in the doorway at just that moment and caught our brief little moment of intimacy.
“Take your hand off my sister.”
“Your sister’s hand is on me.”
He looked more closely at our hands and scowled.
“Letizia, take your hand off of Asshole.”
“Fuck off, Adrien. I’m a big girl, and I can put my hand wherever I please.”
Babs grunted his disapproval then walked past us and grabbed himself a glass and filled it with wine before joining us at the counter.
“I knew we should have stayed at Cousin Genevieve’s house on Elba,” he said.
“Genevieve’s a fucking miserable ugly bitch,” Letizia said.
“Exactly,” Babs responded.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
TAORMINA FACED EAST, and, while we couldn’t see the sun actually setting, we could see the mountains of Italy glowing in the warm rays of the end of the day. It was a spectacular view, and Babs, Letizia, and I sat there enjoying it as we finished the bottle of wine.
“So, is this your place?” I asked Letizia.
“Kind of, though technically, it’s our place, as it’s one of the many Babineux family homes.”
“It’s rather spectacular.”
“Yeah, and we were lucky to be able to come here every summer, which is probably why I’m so obsessed with the history of the area.”
“So, both you and Babs?”
“Yes, and our father and—my mother.”
“Who is my stepmother. My father met and fell in love with her on a business trip to Italy and divorced my mother and married her.”
“And, created me,” Letizia said.
“And how do you feel about all of it Babs?”
“I’m French, so I understand, but it was still a little hard at first. It wasn’t long, however, before my mother remarried another man and was a lot happier in her new relationship, so everyone came out ahead, especially me, because otherwise, I wouldn’t have any siblings at all.”
Letizia excused herself to go to the bathroom, and Babs used that time to give me a quick heads up about his sister and why he was so protective of her in terms of her relationships with the opposite sex. It turned out that she was only a few years out of an unhappy marriage to one of her fellow professors at Oxford, and the experience had left her emotionally scarred. Her now ex-husband, or the cocksucker as Babs referred to him, had seemed like the prefect guy before their wedding day, but in the following months became a different person—often angry, reactive, and prone to working late and sometimes not even making it home at night. Letizia grew despondent over their relationship, and it wasn’t long before her concerned brother decided to investigate her husband and his activities by hiring a private detective—ironically, someone probably like me.
The man in question turned out to be a former Scotland Yard detective, and he would soon find out that the cocksucker had two strikes against him in the good husband category. The first strike was financial, and, in spite of the prick having come from an old and esteemed aristocratic British family, it turned out that he was actually on the verge of bankruptcy and therefore was hoping that marrying Letizia and getting at the Babineux family fortune would be his golden ticket to restoring his financial prestige. Unfortunately for him, the Babineux’s assets were safely shielded behind holding companies and ironclad trusts, and he couldn’t access a single dime of their vast financial holdings—which explained his growing discontent. Clearly he was a world class asshole, for a normal asshole would have at least married her for her looks.
The second strike against him was even more perplexing, for it involved adultery. It turned out that the cocksucker was playing doctor with his doctoral students instead of actually helping them become doctors, which seemed absolutely crazy in my mind. Letizia was a remarkably beautiful and intelligent woman, and any man not content with that alone needed to have his head examined and his balls removed. Now, having heard all this I could understand why Babs kept such a close eye on his little sister, and his story actually had me feeling guilty enough that I decided to try and avoid any romantic entanglements with Letizia. Of course, this all seemed a little preemptive considering that none of us, least of all me, even knew if Letizia liked me in more than just a friendly way, so, as usual, it was guys jumping to conclusions.
Letizia came strolling back into the kitchen at that very moment, and she immediately sensed the lull in conversation. Babs and I did our best to look innocent, but her female intuition cut through the awkward silence, and she turned her angry gaze to her brother.
“You asshole. You told him about my divorce didn’t you?”
“No, no, we were talking about this year’s World Cup,” I said.
“Really? Who’s in it?” she asked.
I looked at Babs, and he shrugged, which meant he also didn’t know the answer. Fuck—what were the odds I would try to concoct a lie with the only European man who apparently didn’t follow soccer.
“Well?” Letizia prodded.
“Um, the world?” I responded, meekly.
“Nice try. Goddammit, Adrien! I am fine for God’s sake. It’s been two years, and I’m over it now. Would you just let me live my own life?”
She picked up her glass, downed the rest of her wine, and proceeded to charge around the kitchen, getting out plates and silverware and making enough noise to raise the ancient dead of her precious city of Taormina. Soon, Bridgette and Lux appeared and asked what all the noise was about, and I told them it was just the way half French, half Italians cooked. It would appear they believed me, because Lux immediately turned her attention to my glass of wine, which she snatched and finished in one gulp.
“Thirsty?” I asked.
“Yeah, how could you tell?”
“I’m psychic,” I said, as I grabbed a fresh glass and filled it along with Lux’s then sat back down at the counter.
“Any news?” I asked.
“I just got off the horn with Corn, and it looks as though the Sozo will be here tomorrow around noon.”
“I guess that’s good news,” I said, noticing Letizia looking over at me.
“There’s more. Corn is joining us.”
“On the yacht?”
“Sooner. He just got into Messina, so he’ll be here within the hour.”
“At least now I understand why you’re so thirsty.”
“Yeah, so it would appear we have one more for dinner, Letizia,” Lux said.
“Actually, more like two,” I added.
Lux frowned, probably nervous about facing Corn, but also a little bothered by my joke about his weight. I didn’t think of it as a joke but rather a helpful and accurate estimation of Corn’s eating potential, and, as a good guest, it was my job to aid our hostess in her preparations for dinner. We now had a little time to kill while we waited for our sixth diner to arrive, so Letizia ushered us all to the deck and brought out antipasta and more wine. Usually antipasto signaled the official beginning of a meal in Italy and was served at the dining room table, but, in this case, it was more of a time killer and safety net to keep us all from getting too hammered. I, myself, had already drunk two and a half glasses of wine on an empty stomach, and the subsequent buzz was making it hard not to stare at Letizia. She was sitting to my right and inadvertently providing me with an even more enticing view than the still waters of the Mediterranean. Unfortunately, Babs’s words kept echoing in the back of my mind, and I tried to find other things on which to focus my attention. I saw a fishing boat, a seagull, and a family of four on the beach just north of us, and, as I watched the two children skipping rocks into the water, I felt the chilling onset of evening approaching and hazarded a brief glance at Letizia. My super attuned man-sense had just enough time to see that her nipples had popped up like a couple of curious prairie dogs. Fuck. I looked down the table towards Babs and noticed that he was watching my every move, and equally annoying was that Lux was doing the same. Jesus, maybe we all needed to go to a movie so that everyone would have something else to look at other than me.
Letizia abruptly turned in her seat, the move bringing her long leg to rest against mine, and I could ignore her no longer, because, in the world of body language, this could be considered a show of deliberate interest or, best case scenario, flirting. In the male world of body language, it was practically foreplay, and, while I had no idea what it actually meant in Letizia’s world, a very specific part of me wanted to find out.
“So, Tag, are you homesick for California?”
“Yesterday, I would have said yes, but, at this moment, I’d have to say absolutely not.”
Letizia smiled, and the more I tried to ignore her, the harder it became—and, by harder, I was also incl
uding my penis. If only Corn would show up and provide some adequate distraction, I might actually be able to spend some quality time with my new favorite half French, half Italian female friend. Unfortunately, I was facing one hell of a conundrum, because I had to balance Babs’s wishes that I leave her alone with my own desire to not be so rude as to blatantly ignore my hostess. If Letizia wanted to talk, then it was my duty as a polite guest to engage in conversation. As if by divine intervention, the sound of the doorbell suddenly filled the air, and I desperately hoped that my portly friend had arrived. Letizia stood up and went to the door, and soon I heard Corn’s voice echoing from the cavernous living room. Speak of the devil and the devil appears. A second later, the fucker stepped out onto the patio looking smart in grey pants and a dark blue button up shirt. Typical Agency man. He walked over to Lux, and she stood up and regarded him a moment before exchanging a somewhat awkward hug, and I could only imagine the conversation they were going to have when they had some privacy.
With darkness slowly enveloping the sky, everyone moved indoors to the formal dining room, and we all took a seat at the massive table. It was quite a piece of furniture and looked like something you would expect to see in a Renaissance era castle. It was at least twenty feet long, three feet wide, and made of Italian rosewood that dated to the fifteenth century. I knew that little fact, because I had asked Letizia, and she went on to explain that it had been acquired by the Babineux family in the early seventeen hundreds and remained a cherished piece of furniture ever since. The oldest thing in my family was my high school car, a nineteen seventy-seven Honda Civic, which was not quite as majestic, though it was equally nostalgic.
Looking around the table at our seating arrangements, I realized that we now had a perfect ratio of boys to girls, so it was forming up to be a lovely couples dinner. We had Corn and Lux, Babs and Bridgette, and me and Letizia all sitting across from each other in the intimate candlelit setting. As I wondered if we would be eating family style and serving ourselves, an attractive woman with dark hair and brown eyes appeared from the kitchen and began bringing out dinner. I asked Letizia who she was and learned that her name was Angelina, and she was an old friend from her youthful summers in Sicily. She was now a schoolteacher by profession but made extra money by helping Letizia take care of the massive house. Keeping up with an estate this size was likely no small task and something I clearly understood considering the fact that cleaning my four-bedroom houseboat often took an entire weekend.
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