by Amanda Usen
Olivia nodded and took another sip. Actually, it was a gulp. She rested her elbows on the table.
He took the seat next to her. She glanced over at him, surprised.
“Your Sean is gone?” he asked in a low voice.
“He’s not my Sean,” she growled.
Alessandro cleared his throat. “I am sorry for your sadness, but I have a proposition for you.”
She raised her head and sighed, lifting an eyebrow to encourage him to go on.
He clasped his hands in front of him. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with your parents. You don’t want to return home and I don’t want to lose my job. Together, we could make Villa Farfalla the greatest hotel in all of Verona.” His face was earnest, his words even more so. Oh God, she hoped this wasn’t going where it sounded like it was going.
Silence stretched between them. She heard her heartbeat in her ears, a slow, deliberate thud. What was she supposed to say? “Okay”? “Go team”?
Alessandro dropped to one knee next to her chair. A tiny bubble of hysteria welled up in her throat. No, he couldn’t possibly be going to…there was no way he would…
“Olivia, will you marry me?” he asked.
A laugh escaped, even though she didn’t want to be cruel. “What on earth for?”
“I have loved this villa and the vineyard my entire life—”
“You have? Didn’t you just get here six months ago?”
He took her hand. “We share the same goals, Olivia. Let’s work together and save Villa Farfalla. We can make it great again,” he insisted.
“Just stop it. You know damn well Marco has been doing the work for both of us.” It was just too much. “I can’t do this.”
His brow furrowed. “Of course you can. Isn’t that why you came? To help your family?”
Caught, she said, “No…Yes, but—”
“It is natural that you should want to take over the kitchen. I am proposing a partnership. I don’t expect you to have feelings for me, but it is inevitable that you will be the mistress of Villa Farfalla. It is what your parents want for you, and it is your duty to carry out their wishes.”
She’d been thinking along those same lines, but somehow having him spell it out in black and white like that made her bristle. “It’s the twenty-first century, not the fourteenth, Alessandro. My parents are perfectly happy to live their own lives and let me live mine. I don’t have to carry out their wishes.”
His glance was astute. “But you will.”
He was right. She remembered the anticipation with which her mother had introduced them. Her mother would probably think this was a fantastic idea. Perfetto. A brilliant business decision. She could see how much work there was to do at the villa, and her parents were getting older. She’d already agreed to stay to help…but marriage?
“Alessandro, I’m perfectly happy to work with you without tying our lives together.”
“I want you to know I’m not going anywhere. I want you to know that whatever happens, I will not leave you or the villa.” His gaze was fierce now, proud.
She felt the walls close around her. She shook her head.
Alessandro held up his hand. “I won’t take no for an answer just yet. Sleep on it. There are many benefits to a partnership between us. Let me help you, Olivia.”
Hurriedly, she slid out of her seat. “Good night.”
“Buonanotte,” he returned. She felt his eyes on her back as she escaped to the hall and found her mother and Mrs. Russo sitting on the stairs. Clearly, they had heard every word.
Her mother stood. “Cara! How wonderful!” she exclaimed and reached to embrace her.
Olivia stepped around them and began to climb the stairs. No way. Not happening. Not discussing it. Not even thinking about it. Exhaustion returned full force when she reached her room. All she wanted to do was crawl under the covers and fall into oblivion but she forced herself to pick up the phone and dial her grandmother’s number instead.
“Pronto?” her grandmother answered.
“Nonna? How are you?”
“Cara! It is so good to hear your voice!”
“It’s good to hear your voice too, Nonna. Mamma wants to know when you will arrive for la Sagra.” Damn it, her voice broke.
“We’re just leaving now. What’s wrong, cara?”
“Nothing,” she squeaked.
“I have known you forever, mia cara ragazza. Tell me your troubles.”
There was no point in lying, so she told her grandmother everything, starting in the restaurant in New York and ending with Alessandro’s proposal and her mother’s reaction.
Her grandmother was silent.
“Nonna? Don’t you think it’s bizarre that Alessandro proposed?”
“Actually, I don’t find that strange at all. Who wouldn’t want to marry the future mistress of Villa Farfalla? I’m still thinking about Sean. I really thought he cared for you, and I’m going to have to have a little talk with him the next time I see him.”
“Nonna! Don’t you dare! I’m already humiliated.”
“Bah! He’s the one who should be embarrassed. He promised his intentions were honorable or I wouldn’t have given him your flight information before you left Norton. I feel like this is partly my fault. I let my romantic streak get the best of me. Maybe I’ll have Benito talk with him.” Her grandmother sounded thoughtful.
Olivia groaned. “Nonna, I’m begging you. Leave it alone. Or pick on Gia instead. I’m pretty sure she’s dating a thug.” Maybe he and Big Daddy can bond, she didn’t add.
“Oh? Who is she seeing now?”
“Vincenzo Ferrari.”
“Your cousin is dating Vincenzo?” Her grandmother sounded alarmed.
“Yup. What a creep.” She sent a silent apology to Gia for the smokescreen.
She could almost hear her grandmother nod. “Tell your mother Benito and I will arrive tomorrow afternoon. Everything will be fine. We’ll get there as soon as we can. Keep an eye on your cousin and take care of yourself. A presto, darling.”
Her grandmother hung up.
Olivia set the phone in its base and sat down on the bed, realizing she had been pacing back and forth across the room. She dropped her face into her hands. Her grandmother wanted to sic her mobster boyfriend on Sean? This was a new low. Laugh or cry? She couldn’t decide.
A chuckle bubbled up in her chest, so she released it. Then a tear slid down her cheek. Perfect—hysterics. Maybe she was capable of a meltdown after all.
A knock sounded on her door. With the way her day was going, it was probably her mother with a dozen Brides magazines and a wedding coordinator in tow. She opened the door. Close. It was Alessandro with a bottle of Prosecco and a plate full of chocolate-covered strawberries.
“I noticed you didn’t touch your tiramisu at dinner,” he said.
Clearly, he couldn’t take a hint.
“I can’t eat—” she began and then paused. The thought of discussing marriage made her want to break out in hives, but eating a strawberry would actually make it happen. Judging from her past experiences with strawberries, a rash would quickly spread over her face, chest, and arms. It would itch like hell and last for about a day. Triggering her allergy was a dramatic way to get rid of Alessandro, but it would have an added benefit. She wouldn’t have to spend the day in the kitchen with him tomorrow either. Her mother wouldn’t let her near food if she couldn’t stop scratching. She wouldn’t have to socialize with the guests either. It was the perfect escape—simple, poetic, Shakespearean even. She’d pull a Juliet until Nonna got to Verona. Her mom wouldn’t care about Olivia’s love life once Nonna showed up with her mobster.
She held the door open. “Come in.”
He entered her room set the wine and berries on the desk
. He faced her, looking as if he were about to plead his case again. “Why don’t you open the wine?” she suggested, picking up the plate of berries and heading for the balcony.
The sun had set.
She hadn’t actually eaten a strawberry for years. She grabbed one by its long green stem, ignoring the tingling in her fingers. She sniffed it. The sweet smell beneath the dark chocolate made her want to gag, but she forced herself to take a bite. She chewed quickly, swallowed. She took another bite, then one more.
Her tongue began to tingle. Her lips and face began to burn and her throat tightened. She clutched her throat, turning back toward the bedroom. Panic made her head spin and she couldn’t focus on Alessandro as he came out onto the balcony. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. She began to fall.
“Mio Dio!” He caught her before she hit the marble. Her vision turned black and the last sound she heard was shattering glass.
Chapter 22
Russo scowled and signaled for another bottle of wine.
Sean held his hand over his glass. “None for me. I still have to find the airport.”
It was difficult to ignore the chasm of panic opening wider with every hour that passed. This much silence from Colin could only mean one thing. Jail. He glanced at his phone and saw it was later than he thought. “I should get going.”
A sudden sharp ring had them both clutching their phones. Sean glanced at his display and felt dizzy with disappointment. “It’s your wife,” he said.
Russo’s eyes flew wide.
“Hello?” Sean answered.
Mrs. Russo’s voice was nearly unintelligible.
“Slow down. I can’t understand you. What?” Sean asked.
She took a long shuddering breath. “Olivia ate strawberries. The paramedics are on their way. I thought you would want to know.”
Her words hit him like a brick to the head. “What happened? Is she okay? What’s going on?”
“Her mother had an EpiPen in her room, and she seems to be breathing now,” Mrs. Russo sobbed, “but she looks terrible. Where are you?”
“I’m in Venice.” He glanced across the table and added, “With your husband.”
She sobbed harder. “Tell him to stay there.” Her voice was loud enough to be heard across the table.
“Tell her I will,” Russo burst out.
“Both of you shut up.” He needed to think.
He would miss his plane if he went back to Verona, but he couldn’t leave Italy with Olivia in danger. How had he ever thought he could leave her at all? “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he muttered, forgetting Mrs. Russo was listening. “Sorry. We’re on our way.” He put the phone back in his pocket.
“You.” Sean pointed at Russo. “Pay for dinner.”
Russo threw a wad of bills on the table. “Done.”
He led the way out the door. “Olivia had a bad allergic reaction. We’re going back to the villa.” Thank God they were close to where they had entered the city. It was full dark now, but as they jogged over the bridge he saw the lights of a few taxis. He knocked on the window of the first one he reached. “Verona? Villa Farfalla? Immediatamente?” He’d learned the word from Gia and hoped it got his point across.
The driver nodded and they climbed into the back, barely getting the door shut before the car sped off down the road. Sean stared out into the dark, his heart twisting with grief. Taking care of Colin had been his focus for so long it was a reflex. It had been years since he could truly protect his brother from anything, especially his own choices—but it hadn’t stopped him from trying. Why couldn’t love be easy? Sean took a long, slow breath and pushed the guilt away.
The glare of Russo’s cell phone lit the back of the cab. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m telling my wife I love her, of course.”
“In a text?” Sean asked, appalled.
“Why not?” Russo’s grin was a quick flash. “That’s how she’s been telling me.”
***
The sound of Olivia’s breathing was loud in the quiet room. Her lips were swollen and red. Her eyes were puffy. A raised rash covered her face, neck, and arms. She was out cold.
“Is she all right?” Sean’s voice was uneven.
Mrs. Marconi nodded. “Alessandro shouted loud enough to bring the house down as soon as it happened. I keep an EpiPen in every first-aid kit, just in case…” She cleared her throat. “The paramedics said she’ll be fine. No need to go to the hospital, thank God. Steroids and Benadryl. She’ll sleep for hours.”
Sean nodded and sat down beside the bed, taking Olivia’s too-warm hand in his. “What happened? Why did she eat the strawberries?”
Mrs. Marconi shook her head back and forth. “I don’t know.” Her voice broke on the last word, but she mastered her tears quickly. “I’d like you to leave before she wakes up.”
Of course she blamed him for leaving. “I had to make sure she was okay.”
“She’ll be fine. I’m sure it was an accident, a mistake. Now that Olivia is going to stay in Verona, we’ll stop ordering strawberries.” Mrs. Marconi continued, ignoring his shock, “I hate to be the one to tell you, but Alessandro proposed marriage to my daughter tonight. I think they’ll be very happy together, don’t you?”
Sean blinked, feeling numb. The chef had moved in that fast? He glanced at Olivia and then back at her mother. “If her current condition is any indicator, I wouldn’t be so sure.”
Mrs. Marconi’s face darkened. “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be, Mr. Kindred. I want what is best for my daughter.”
So did he. That’s why he had left her.
A shout from the hall made them both jump. Damn it, could Russo not do anything quietly? “I’ll take care of this,” he said.
Mrs. Marconi stepped out into the hall with him but turned toward the stairs.
Sean walked the other way, to where Russo was standing outside his wife’s room. “Open the damn door!” Russo shouted again.
“Be quiet. Olivia’s sleeping,” Sean said. “Why don’t you try a more subtle approach? Start with I’m sorry and tell her you love her again.”
Mrs. Russo opened the door. Her eyes were red, but she smiled at him. “Are you going to take your own advice?” Her impish grin faded when she looked at her husband. “Get in here.”
She gave Sean a sly wink and shut the door. He shook his head in amazement. Those two were baffling.
“Mr. Kindred?” Olivia’s mother was coming back down the hall with a frown on her face. “There’s someone here to see you.” An unmistakable mop of shaggy blond hair appeared above her shoulder.
“Colin?” he gasped. “What are you doing here?”
His brother grinned. “Celebrating my freedom.”
Joy and fury fought within him as he embraced his brother. “Please tell me you didn’t skip out on the last day of your probation.”
“Hell no. Hearing got moved to yesterday morning. I’m free, bro. I thought it would be fun to tell you in person.”
“So you bought a ticket to Italy?” Sean said slowly. “Just out of curiosity, how did you pay for that ticket?’ he asked.
“With your new credit card. I’ll pay you back, I promise.”
Fury, definitely fury. “Credit card fraud is a felony, you know. And as soon as you activated the new card, I couldn’t use the old one.”
“I didn’t think about that last part, sorry.” It was typical of Colin not to consider the consequences. “And it’s only fraud if you prosecute.”
“It would serve you right if I did. You realize I thought you were in jail, right? Why didn’t you return any of my texts?”
Colin dug his phone out of his pocket and held it up. “No signal.”
Sean pressed a hand against the wall to combat the dis
orienting rush of déjà vu. A disapproving sniff from Mrs. Marconi reminded him of her presence, and Sean gestured down the hall toward his old room. “Do you think we could…”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Just for a little while? My brother and I have a lot to discuss.”
Mrs. Marconi led them down the hall without saying a word.
“Thank you very much,” he said, truly grateful when she opened the door.
Colin turned on the light and flopped on the bed. “I sent you a bunch of texts before I left. Didn’t you get them?”
“I did…”
“But you didn’t believe me.” Colin raised himself up on one arm.
Silence hung heavy between them before Sean said, “I’m sorry, Colin.” Suddenly, he was exhausted. He sank into the desk chair.
“It’s all right.” His brother gave him a cautious look. “Are you okay, bro? You look like shit.”
“It’s been a rough day,” he admitted. “I was worried about you.” And I’m an idiot.
“Seriously—did you think I would do anything the last week of probation? Jesus, I’m not that stupid. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time when the cops raided Johnny’s bar downtown. Mom saw me on the news and freaked out.”
“What were you doing at Johnny’s?”
“Absolutely nothing illegal, not that it’s any of your business. And Mom left on a cruise with Dave yesterday, which should tell you exactly how concerned she was about the situation.”
And it also explained why he hadn’t been able to reach her. Sean slumped in his chair. “She was supposed to be keeping an eye on you.”
“You’re the only one who still thinks I need a keeper.” His brother snorted and cocked an eyebrow. “So how’s it going with Olivia Marconi?”
Sean sat up straight in his chair. “How do you know about Olivia?”
“I ran into Marlene and Joe at Wegmans last weekend. It didn’t take us long to put it together when I told them you were at Villa Farfalla. Haven’t you been hot for her for, like, a decade?”
Sean groaned. “Let me get this straight. You didn’t get arrested. You’re not in jail. You aren’t on probation anymore, and you want to talk about my love life?” His adrenaline high was fading, making him even more aware of his exhaustion.
