by Marinelli, Carol; Hayward, Jennifer; Stephens, Susan; Anderson, Natalie
‘I don’t think you’d like it,’ Bastiano said, and then took a large scoop of ice cream and held it in his mouth, so that his tongue and lips were almost blue with cold.
‘What are you doing?’ Sophie asked as he knelt on the bed and parted her legs.
‘Kissing it better.’
Yes, she had found bliss.
* * *
It was a day in bed spent hidden from the world.
A day spent making love, dozing, laughing and talking, and Sophie never wanted it to end, though of course she knew that it must.
Wrapped in his arms, Sophie woke and did not want to look at the bedside clock.
The drapes and shutters were heavy enough to block out every chink of light, but there was a certain stillness to the air and she knew that it was night.
Sure enough, when she lifted her head from Bastiano’s chest and read the time, she saw that in less than an hour her shift would commence.
And they would end.
She slid out of his arms and went back to the gorgeous bathroom. This time she had a shower and then did up her hair and dressed in her dry clothes.
She walked back into the master bedroom and there lay Bastiano, asleep.
No, she would never regret it.
She had heard her friends speak of their first time and some of them had sounded dismal, some had been described as good at best.
This had been perfection. He had taken such care of her, both in and out of bed.
For the first time in her life she had been spoiled and adored but she knew that the world they had built this day had not been one designed to last.
Sophie ached to wake him, but she did not know how to say goodbye without tears and that certainly wasn’t a part of the deal they had made.
And so, instead of waking him, instead of fumbling through a goodbye that she did not want, Sophie went to the bureau in the lounge, took out a piece of paper and wrote him a little note.
Mai ti dimentichero’ mai.
I will never forget you.
And if it was too sentimental for Bastiano, she didn’t care, for she never would forget, Sophie thought as she quietly let herself out of the suite. Though sad to leave, as she headed to the elevator and awaited its arrival, there was the complete absence of guilt.
Her mother, if she knew, would never forgive her and that was no idle thought—it was fact. And neither would Benita, the head of housekeeping, if she were ever to find out.
Yes, to others it might seem wrong, but to Sophie everything felt right with the world and she hugged the memory of them close to her chest.
It had been the best day of her life without a doubt, and if it were possible to float in an elevator, then that was just what Sophie would have done as she made her way down to the foyer.
She actually didn’t start work for another ten minutes but knew that her friend Gabi was working on the plans for a wedding being held tomorrow.
No, she wouldn’t tell even Gabi about what had happened—some things were too precious to share. But she couldn’t find her friend; Sophie put her head around the ballroom doors and saw that she wasn’t there.
In fact, there was no sign of her.
It felt as if Gabi might be avoiding her because usually they caught up all the time, but for the past couple of months Gabi had always been too busy or tired.
Sophie headed through the foyer and to Reception, where Anya was on duty.
‘Have you seen Gabi?’ she asked.
‘Gabi!’ Anya said, and gave a dramatic eye-roll. ‘I have more than seen her! I had to call an ambulance earlier on. She went into labour.’
‘What do you mean?’ Sophie asked, unable to take in what she was being told. ‘Gabi’s not pregnant…’ But even as Sophie said it, Gabi’s avoidance of her in the last few months and the new distance between them was starting to make sense.
‘She’s more than six months gone,’ Anya said. ‘I had no idea either until her waters broke. I think the baby will come tonight.’
‘Is there anyone with her?’ Sophie asked, while knowing that there was nothing she could really do.
‘I think she was going to call her mother once she got to the hospital.’
It was a rather distracted Sophie that went in for the evening briefing. Here she would be told where she would be working tonight, though it didn’t really matter to Sophie. She just wanted to know what was going on with her friend.
‘Are you listening, Sophie?’ Benita checked.
‘Of course,’ Sophie said, and forced herself to at least look as if she was paying attention.
‘Could you help with the set-up of the ballroom for the wedding tomorrow? Things have fallen rather behind.’
Sophie nodded and wrote the instructions down in her notebook as Benita spoke on to the rest of the gathered staff.
‘Sultan Alim has had to fly home unexpectedly,’ Benita continued, ‘which makes things a little easier on this busy night. Laura, you and I shall service his floor when there is a moment to breathe. Now, in Presidential Suite B we have Signor Conti…’
Sophie felt her heart soar and her cheeks warm at the sound of his name.
‘He’s an important guest at the Grande Lucia,’ Benita carried on. ‘Today he has declined to have the suite serviced. However, should he change his mind, Inga and Laura, could you see to it promptly, please?’ Benita’s voice was sharp and sometimes Sophie was rather sure that Benita knew what Inga got up to. ‘Please remember that Signor Conti is a serious contender to purchase this hotel. He may well be your boss in the future, so please be on your best behaviour. Remember that he is here to observe the staff and glean as much information as he can about the running of the hotel.’
Sophie felt as if the floor had shifted beneath her. The handover continued but Sophie heard not a word. She wanted to call out, to ask Benita to explain further about Bastiano. Still drenched in horror, she could not quite take in what had just been said, but Benita was wrapping things up and gave her team a smile. ‘Let’s get to work, then.’
It was a shaken and tearful Sophie who did her best to work through the night.
Gabi’s boss, Bernadetta, had been called in to accomplish overnight all the work to be done. She was a poisonous woman at the best of times, and on this night she worked the fragile Sophie hard.
The ribbons she had her tie over and over, the chairs she had her lug and move, and she screeched at Sophie to concentrate as for the umpteenth time she had to lay the place cards according to the table plan.
Finally, finally, around two in the morning, Benita popped her head in the ballroom and told Sophie it was time for her break.
‘Is everything okay?’ Ronaldo, the doorman, asked as Sophie stepped outside the kitchens for a breath of air. Ronaldo was also on his break and having a cigarette.
‘I’ll be glad when it is morning,’ Sophie admitted. ‘It is awful working with Bernadetta and there is all this talk of the hotel being taken over.’
‘I know! Let’s hope it’s Di Savo,’ Ronaldo said. ‘He has a hotel here in Rome.’
‘What about the other one?’ Sophie fished.
‘Conti?’ Ronaldo said, and raised his eyebrows. ‘He’s a risk taker, a loose cannon.’
‘In what way?’
‘In every way. He and Di Savo are sworn enemies. Security was told to be on high alert, what with the two of them staying here at the same time.’
‘Really?’
Ronaldo nodded. ‘Especially because last night Di Savo was entertaining Conti’s guest.’ He gave a knowing eye raise. ‘We just have to hope that Di Savo wins the bid as well as the girl. Bastiano Conti’s a cold-hearted bastard—that much I know.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I’m the doorman,’ Ronaldo said.
‘He often stays here as he and the sultan are friends. Believe me when I say I see all that goes on. I wouldn’t let my sister within a mile radius of him.’
‘They’re friends?’ Sophie checked, recalling Bastiano’s skilled questioning—he had acted as if he was surprised that Alim was a sultan.
‘Good friends.’ Ronaldo nodded. ‘Though I thought the sultan had better taste.’
It was bad enough that she had slept with the potential new boss, but it was utterly humiliating the way she had been taken in by him. Bastiano had had her opening up and speaking to him as if they were lovers.
That was what she had thought they were.
What had taken place had for Sophie been so wonderful, but now it was tainted.
She had thought he’d been asking all those questions to find out about her, but instead he had been playing her all along.
Thank goodness she hadn’t told him that she thought Inga was up to tricks. Sophie did not like her, but neither did she want to get her into trouble—it was a dismissible offence.
And one that she herself had committed.
Oh, whatever way she looked at it, she was in trouble.
Her job was the biggest and proudest achievement of her life. Sophie loved coming to work each day, she loved her colleagues and the friends she had made.
And at any moment now it might all be taken away.
By morning, the ballroom was somehow ready for the upcoming wedding but Sophie was no less frantic. When Benita asked if someone could go and help out with the breakfast service, Sophie did not put up her hand.
She simply did not know how to face him.
* * *
Bastiano was more than ready to face Sophie, though.
He had woken at around midnight having had the best sleep he had known in a very long time.
It had taken a moment to register that she had gone. Bastiano had even gone to the bathroom, half hoping to find her lying up to her neck in bubbles as he had earlier in the day.
Recalling what Sophie had said about liking order, he had called the butler and asked that he send someone to service the room.
To his disappointment it was Inga, the woman who had brought the gelato, who’d arrived, along with another chambermaid.
‘You were working this afternoon,’ Bastiano commented.
‘They asked me to do a split shift.’ Inga smiled.
He placed his breakfast order.
Shakshuka for Sophie and Sicilian pastries for him, only this time he asked for summer berries and a bottle of champagne to be served with the juice.
Finally morning arrived and there was a knock at the door; he heard the trolley being wheeled in and then another soft knock on his bedroom door.
‘Entra,’ Bastiano said.
He had been in the industry long enough to know Sophie would have no say where she was assigned, yet as he sat up to a soft ‘Buongiorno…’ he lay back down when he realised that it was not Sophie.
The curtains were opened and the shutters too, but Bastiano deliberately closed his eyes.
‘Can I serve you breakfast?’ Inga asked, when protocol dictated she should leave rather than speak.
‘No.’
‘Is there anything else I can do for you, Signor Conti?’
He opened his eyes and though imperceptible to many, Bastiano knew the ropes well and could both hear and see the veiled offer; yes, Inga would love to be in bed with the boss.
‘You can leave.’ His voice was curt and with a flick of his wrist he dismissed her.
Inga left and the minutes dragged by ever more slowly as Sophie failed to appear.
It edged close to seven and still Sophie did not arrive. Bastiano knew only too well how bad it would look if he were to call down to the front desk and ask after her.
There was nothing he could do except wait.
And, when the morning was already misbehaving, Bastiano got up and poured his own coffee, but by then it was far too cool. He flicked open the newspaper and suddenly his day got a whole lot worse.
There was an image of Raul Di Savo, his nemesis, sitting in a café, one Bastiano recognised as being opposite the hotel. And he was holding hands with Lydia Hayward.
So she hadn’t been catching up with friends after all.
Bastiano and Raul both had colourful reputations and both knew how the other worked.
Raul must have found out that Lydia was a guest of his, Bastiano surmised. Hostilities had just increased tenfold, and he screwed up the paper and tossed it to the floor.
His phone rang. It was Maurice, spluttering his apologies that Lydia remained unavailable and asking when they might meet to speak about the castle.
But Bastiano had no interest in Maurice’s draughty old building now.
‘We shan’t be meeting, Maurice. And when you see your stepdaughter, tell her that the reason for Raul Di Savo’s interest in her is simply to get back at me. There is no more to it than that.’
He was in no doubt that Maurice would indeed pass the message on and, he hoped, at the very least, that it would cause Raul and Lydia to have a major row.
Next he called down to the front desk and asked that his bags be packed and his transport arranged.
Forget Rome! Forget fragrant baths and spiced Sicilian pastries! And most of all, forget Sophie!
Bastiano was back to being a bastard.
CHAPTER SIX
SOPHIE HAD SIMPLY not known how to face Bastiano.
It wasn’t just that she was frightened for her job, Sophie felt angry and humiliated—sure that he had been silently laughing at her all along.
And so, after the longest night at work, instead of heading to his suite she headed for home. Once there, she called the hospital to find out what she could about Gabi but they gave out little information.
‘Can I visit?’ she asked. After learning the hours when she could see Gabi, she decided that she would go in the evening, before the start of her next shift.
She felt sick at the thought of walking into work and positive that she was going to be in deep trouble.
Perhaps he wouldn’t buy the hotel, Sophie thought as she tried to sleep. Though there was little solace that that would contain things, for she now knew that Bastiano was a personal friend of Sultan Alim.
And as nice as Alim was, he had a fierce reputation with women too.
Sophie lay there with visions of Bastiano thanking Alim for the nice surprise sent to his suite.
And yet for all her worries there remained the absence of regret.
Today, Sophie knew, could so easily have been her first wedding anniversary.
And so that evening, as she walked onto the maternity ward to visit her friend, she knew full well that it could easily have been her sitting pale in the bed, having just given birth, with Luigi by her side.
No.
She might have to suffer the consequences work-wise, but her first time would always be as she had wanted it to be.
Even if she lost her job.
‘Sophie…’ Gabi started to cry as soon as Sophie walked in.
She had bought her a bunch of flowers and a little lemon-coloured bear for the baby, who was nowhere in sight.
‘It’s okay,’ Sophie said, taking her friend in her arms and not really knowing what to say. ‘Is the baby okay? The nurses wouldn’t tell me anything.’
‘I had a little girl,’ Gabi said. ‘Lucia.’
‘And how is she doing?’
‘She’s in the nursery. She’s very early but they say that for her size she is doing really well.’
‘I bought this for her.’
Sophie handed over the little bear and Gabi smiled when she saw her baby’s first toy.
‘I can’t believe s
he’s here,’ Gabi said.
‘Believe me…’ Sophie’s eyes widened ‘…neither can anyone! All the staff are in shock. Why on earth didn’t you tell me that you were pregnant?’
‘It seemed wrong to be telling everyone when I haven’t even told her father…’ Gabi admitted.
Sophie waited, but Gabi shook her head; clearly she still wasn’t ready to reveal who the father was.
It didn’t stop Sophie from trying to work it out, though!
‘Ronaldo?’ Sophie asked, because she often saw them chatting.
‘Oh, please,’ Gabi said, and then through her tears she started to laugh. ‘Ronaldo?’
‘Well, he is good looking.’ Sophie shrugged. ‘And you two are friendly.’
‘I talk to Ronaldo because he knows all the gossip,’ Gabi said.
Not all the gossip, Sophie hoped.
She stayed for a little while and promised to come in and visit again, but all too soon she was heading to work, terrified of what awaited her yet conflicted, for she knew she secretly hoped to see Bastiano again.
Benita gave her a smile when a blushing Sophie joined the group for the briefing.
‘The wedding is in full swing,’ Benita said, and took them through the plans for the night ahead. ‘Signor Conti checked out early this morning.’
Nobody heard as Sophie’s heart dropped.
She stood, staring at her pencil poised over her notepad, and there were tears in her eyes as Benita spoke on.
‘The staff have been busy all day and have not been able to service the presidential suite. Sophie, could you make a start, please, and I’ll come and help you as soon as I can, then you can go and help with the clear up once the wedding guests have left.’
The workload was so heavy that Benita suggested she didn’t stay for the rest of handover and so, with a heavy heart, Sophie made her way up in the elevator, the same one in which she had once floated back down to earth.
Each presidential suite had its own butler’s pantry and its own cleaning supply room so there was no trolley to collect. She let herself in and saw that it was a lot neater than when she had left it.
Sophie walked through the vacant lounge to the master bedroom. On a silver trolley stood an untouched breakfast. She lifted the domes and saw the pastries and shakshuka, but there were summer berries too. What brought tears to her eyes, though, was that there was an unopened bottle of champagne standing in a bucket of water, and she knew he had ordered it for her.
