“Which one do you like the best?” Dominic asks.
“The coffee-flavored one.” I smile.
“Of course.” He shakes his head as he hands me the small container.
“Which is your favorite?” I squint up at him as I take a mouthful of gelato.
“Blood orange,” he answers.
“That one is a bit tangy,” I reply.
“What is ‘tangy’?” He looks at me confused.
“Like sour and bitter all rolled into one,” I explain.
Dominic takes in a short, sharp breath and looks down the main street in front of us deep in thought. I wonder what he is thinking as I follow his gaze. The street has become a thoroughfare of people, and it looks as though it is now closed off to local traffic. We sit in silence for a while and bask in the warmth of the sun while finishing off the gelato. I feel Dominic watching me and I cannot help but smile.
“Are you ready to go?” he whispers into my ear.
“Mmhhmm,” I manage to mumble with a mouth full of gelato.
Dominic stands and holds his hands out to pull me up. We throw our containers in the bin and continue up the rest of the Spanish Steps. The view from the top takes my breath away. I see the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica and wonder if I could visit Vatican City now.
“Beautiful, isn’t it? I live and breathe this city and I still cannot get enough of it.”
“I can see why.” I smile to myself and continue gazing out across the expanse of the city below.
“Come on, I want to show you my favorite park.” Dominic grabs my hand and steers me away from the view.
We walk hand in hand for all of ten minutes before we come to a set of open iron gates at the top of a hill. Villa Borghese is embossed on an iron plate attached to one of the stone pillars. Dominic leads the way and we head toward a man who has two- and four-seater bikes for hire.
“Are you game?” Dominic raises his eyebrows and grins at me.
“Okay.” I swallow.
“Don’t worry, I’ll do all the cycling. You just sit back and enjoy the scenery,” he teases as he hands the man his license and payment for the bike.
I climb on hesitantly and hold on to the bar in front of me.
“Don’t look so worried.” He laughs. “I promise to go slow.”
“I’m not worried,” I lie.
We set off. Dominic has no problem keeping pace without my help. I marvel at the greenery surrounding me. There are others on these death traps around the park, and the longer we cycle around, the more comfortable I get. We suddenly come to a stop. Dominic jumps off the bike and jogs across the dirt road disappearing behind a stone building that looks to be a shrine of some sort. He appears with a large bunch of long-stemmed red roses, grinning from ear to ear.
“I picked them myself.” He laughs.
“Thank you.” I kiss him on the cheek.
I place the roses in the basket at the front of the bike, careful to not squash any. I look back up and notice there is traffic up ahead in the distance. Dominic doesn’t ease up on the pedaling, and I get the sense that we are going to go through the roundabout with the local traffic.
“We aren’t going through the traffic, are we?” I look at him alarmed.
He sits in his seat all calm and collected. “Are you scared?” he teases.
“You have to stop. We can’t ride through there.” I grab onto his arm.
Dominic drapes his arm around me. “It will be fine. Close your eyes when we get closer.”
“Dominic,” I warn.
“You may have to help me pedal so we can get enough speed.” He places his hand back on the handlebars.
“Oh my God! We are going to die!” I exclaim a little too loudly.
“No, we won’t. Trust me.” Dominic laughs.
As we get closer to the crazy traffic, my heart accelerates, and I start to pedal with as much force as I possibly can. “Holy shit!” I shriek as we enter the roundabout. Cars, motorbikes, and trucks whiz past us at impossible speeds, and a Vespa narrowly misses us causing it to swerve toward another car. On the other side of the roundabout I see another death trap exiting and this gives me relief in knowing that they made it through. We might have a chance after all. We continue to pedal as fast as we can, although I am certain my effort is not having any effect on propelling the bike any faster. I look at Dominic; his face is alight with amusement.
“Fun, isn’t it?” He laughs.
“Fun?” I concentrate on pedaling.
As we exit the roundabout and leave the honking of horns and the clear lack of road rules behind us, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“That was crazy!” I blow out a large gush of air.
“But, did you die?” Dominic chuckles as he continues to pedal down the road.
“Well, no, but I think I may have shaved a good ten years off my life.” I ease my vicelike grip off the handlebars in front of me.
We continue to ride through the park past white stone statues, trimmed hedges, wandering tourists, and other bike riders. Dominic steers the bike toward a small boatshed that sits off the side of a small lake. Climbing off the bike I follow him to the window of the quaint building. He speaks to the man in Italian and hands over some money.
“Come on.” His grin is infectious.
“Where to now?” I ask, curious as to why he is suddenly in high spirits.
We walk to the small jetty and a short, round man calls out a number in Italian. Dominic holds up the ticket in his hand as a small boat arrives at the jetty, unloading its passengers. I watch as he steps into the boat with ease and holds his hand out for me.
“Trust me.” He winks.
I take a hold of his hand and carefully step into the small boat, seating myself on one of the seats. Dominic takes a seat facing me and grabs the oars in his hands as the old man pushes us out with his foot.
“I can’t believe this is in the middle of the city. It’s so peaceful.”
“It’s a nice escape from the madness that can consume you being in the city for too long.” He closes his eyes.
“How big is this park?” I wonder out loud.
“Too big to see it all in one day,” he answers my question but keeps his eyes closed.
“How did you manage to get the day off work?” I watch him as he slowly opens his eyes and smiles at me.
“I have my ways.”
I smile at his playfulness. “I’m glad you got the day off.”
Dominic slowly rows the boat past the temple in the middle of the lake and toward the overhanging branches of the weeping willows, steering the boat skillfully into the shade of the large branches. The coolness feels nice on my skin, and I marvel at the relaxing silence that has enveloped us. I look up at the green canopy and the light filtering through the breaks in the leaves. Dominic carefully stands causing the boat to rock. I hold on to the edge and watch as he slowly eases himself down next to me.
“Is this your secret spot for dates?” I tease.
He looks at me and his eyebrows knit together. “No, definitely not.” He shakes his head slightly, a playful smile turning up the corners of his perfect mouth. “I don’t come here that often, but when I do, it’s by myself.”
I return his smile and look down at the water; it is murky, and I wonder how deep it is.
“Tell me your favorite things.” Dominic watches me, his eyes intent.
“What do you mean?”
“Your favorite food, movie, color. Those sorts of things. I want to know you better,” he explains.
I sit and think for a moment. “Well, my favorite color is blue, and my favorite food would have to be either watermelon or any sort of cake.” I chuckle. “My favorite movies are horror movies. I love dance music, and I think I am the happiest when my nose is buried in a good book.”
He sits and takes it all in. “My favorite color is most probably black.” He smiles and looks down at his jeans. “My favorite food is lasagna that my Nonna makes. My favorite place is th
e beach, and I can’t go a day without a good ten-kilometer run before the sun rises.”
“Wow, ten kilometers.” I look at him in amazement. “Every day?”
“Yes, every morning.” He smiles as he moves one leg over the bench seat and pulls me into him so I am leaning against his chest and stomach. “Tell me more,” he whispers in my ear.
“There’s not much more to tell.”
“Tell me about where you live.”
“It’s a small city and the weather is beautiful for most of the year. Have you ever been to Australia?” I ask.
“Not yet but I think there is a reason for me to go now.” He smiles against my hair. “Where do you work?”
“At a café not far from where I live.”
He laughs. “Endless cups of coffee were what drew you to work there, I guess?”
“You know me too well.” I laugh, and it feels good to finally be free from the weight of the curse.
Dominic gently nibbles on my ear and I arch my neck to push my ear toward his mouth. His warm lips make their way down my neck, nibbling and kissing. The warmth of his mouth sends shivers down my arms, and I turn in my seat until I am facing him. His hands grip my waist and he lifts me onto his lap so I am straddling him. His eyes are ablaze, and his mouth connects with mine in urgency. The boat rocks with the sudden movement and I tighten my grip around his strong shoulders, frightened we will tip the boat. He chuckles against my mouth; his hands find their way to my hair and he grips my head holding me in place. I feel his heart beat against his chest; his breath has quickened, and I hear a low growl from deep within.
“Dieci!”
I hear a loud bellowing call from the dock.
“Dieci!”
I ease back from Dominic’s grasp, but he pulls me tighter against him, his strong hands holding me in place. His kisses become softer and gentler.
“I think that’s us,” I manage to mumble against his mouth.
“Sshhh.” His lips vibrate against mine.
“Dieci!” the old man calls out again.
Dominic growls something unintelligible and I cannot help but laugh. He gently kisses me one more time and helps me climb off him. Grabbing the oars he starts to row us back to the waiting man at the dock. I collect my roses from the bike’s basket and we head off on foot.
“Where to now?”
“My favorite place for lunch.” He grins.
We walk for what seems like forever through the heart of Rome, dodging Vespas and tourists. The aroma of baked bread and the tantalizing smell of garlic and tomato makes my stomach grumble.
“Hungry?” Dominic smiles.
“Very,” I reply a little embarrassed.
“It’s just down this alleyway.” He pulls me along after him.
We arrive at a tall metal gate, which looks to be as old as the city of Rome. It cordons off a narrow alley with a dead end. Dominic opens the gate and it creaks with the effort. I follow him down the alleyway and we come to a set of worn marble stairs that lead up into darkness. Dominic grabs my hand and we both make our way up in single file coming to a stop at a door. He knocks; we wait a few seconds and a sweet old lady opens the door. Her face lights up as soon as she see’s Dominic. He embraces her and gives her a kiss on each cheek. Her white hair is cut in a short bob and she wears a red polka dot apron. She speaks to him in Italian and every now and then glances at me with a genuine smile.
“Ciao,” her soft voice greets me.
“Hello,” I reply as she takes my hands in hers and kisses me on both cheeks. She leads us through the kitchen of what I presume is a restaurant, past the seating area decorated with dark wood paneling and crisp white linens, and out to the balcony, all the while not letting go of my hand. The view of Rome is spectacular; the golden and bronzed rooftops of the city are sprawled out beneath us.
“This is my grandma Zaneta,” Dominic introduces her.
“Nonna, this is Katalina.” Dominic places his hand around my waist and pulls me to his side.
“It’s so nice to meet you.” I smile at her.
“You are Australiano? No?” she asks in a thick Italian accent.
“Yes.” I smile at her warmly.
“Beautiful.” She smiles at Dominic and squeezes his cheek as she retreats inside taking my bunch of roses to place in a vase.
“This is my family’s on my mother’s side trattoria. It has the best views of Rome.” He leads me toward a table next to the railing.
“It’s breathtaking.” I marvel at the endless rooftops.
“Mmhmm,” he murmurs into my ear.
What seems like hours later, we emerge from the rooftop restaurant after eating enough lasagna and desserts to feed a small country. We wander through the streets of Rome holding hands. Dominic points out different landmarks, stealing kisses in doorways, against stone walls, and in deserted lane ways. It is early afternoon. The light from the sun dances across the Tiber River as we cross the Bridge of Angels toward the domineering fortress of Castel Sant’Angelo. In the late afternoon sun, we eat pastries and drink coffee at a small coffee bar only known to locals. The walls are peeling, the seating is nonexistent, but the coffee is liquid gold—strong and velvety smooth. Walking hand in hand, visiting small leather boutiques, browsing in clothing and gift stores, we stumble across a small hole-in-the-wall bookshop filled to the brim with books that look as though they are spilling out into the street. A square tin letterbox sits against the yellowing wall between the entrance and the store’s humble window. Green vines with pointy leaves are overflowing from the hanging baskets flanking the doorway, and rattan crates on either side of the door are overstuffed with books. The sign above the entrance tells me this place is called The Open Door Bookshop. Dominic pulls me gently through the entrance. I am amazed at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. I find the English section and become absorbed in the variety of books available.
“Pick one.” Dominic wraps his arms around my waist.
“There’s so many to choose from.” I smile up at him.
“Always indecisive.” He smiles and shakes his head. He reaches up to retrieve an old, brown, leather-bound book with faded gold cursive print on the spine. He holds the book toward me and I take it from him. Curiously I open the front cover and inside discover the book is composed of some of Shakespeare’s most popular works.
“Perfect.” I grin as I run my fingers over the yellowing pages. “Thank you.” I kiss him on the cheek.
“My pleasure. I love to see you smile.”
The sun sits behind the buildings as we make our way toward our next destination. Dominic carries my brown paper-wrapped package in one hand with my hand intertwined in his other. Catching a small bus up the hill to Janiculum, we watch the sun set over the majestic city as we sit with our legs dangling over a ledge. The gold and red that bathes the sky sets the city on fire. Waiting until the last of the glow disappears over the horizon, Dominic turns to me and cradles my face in his large hands. He kisses me deeply and slowly until I feel like it is just the two of us in the world. Pulling back, his sparkling eyes lock with mine and he studies me for a moment, gauging me and reading me.
“It’s beautiful up here.” I break the spell and he looks toward the city now sparkling with lights.
He doesn’t answer me and I gaze at his profile. His eyes are drawn together and he seems deep in thought. I touch his arm and he turns to me and smiles.
“Sorry. Sometimes things just seem too good to be true and I wait for it all to fall apart.” He kisses my cheek. “Come. I want to show you my favorite place at night.”
We walk the short distance down the hill to a section of Rome called Trastevere. The narrow cobblestone streets are charming, and the place is alive with locals chatting and smoking. A live band plays in one of the piazzas. The restaurants are already full to the brim with diners, and I wonder to myself if we are going to eat somewhere here.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Dominic answers my thoughts.
�
��I could eat again.” I nod. I look around at the packed restaurants.
“Just up the road.” Dominic points ahead of us. “Few tourists know of this place. We Romans like to keep some things to ourselves.” He winks.
The entrance is disguised as a shop front, and as we step through the door, I discover it is in fact a restaurant. I also spot a bar with a stage and dance floor. The place is modern with sleek lines and dim lighting. Dominic leads me to a table and I sit heavily into the seat, happy to be off my feet.
“Wait here. I’ll get us some drinks.”
I watch him as he heads toward the closer of the two bars. He comes back with drinks in hand and a face-splitting grin.
“I hope you like this.” He sets my drink in front of me. “Just taste it before you ask questions.”
I take a sip and the taste is mouthwatering. “What is this?”
“Espresso martini.” He smiles. “Is it good?”
“Yes.” I take another sip. “Really good.”
“This place has the best pizza in all of Rome. My friend owns this place, so I can come in any time. In case you were wondering why it is empty,” he explains as he sips his Peroni.
“Did I look worried again?”
“Only a little.” He winks.
He takes my hand as we leave the restaurant and head out to the bustling street. We walk down a narrow lane and turn right onto a quiet street where the sounds of the piazza are only an echo. Dominic’s pace slows as we near the end.
“This is my apartment. I wanted to get your present before I walked you home. Do you want to come up?” He hesitates.
“I’d love to.”
I follow him up a flight of stairs, and as he turns toward the door to unlock it, he pauses. “I think it may be a mess.”
Bequeathed Page 13
