Under the Sicilian Sky

by Alexia Adams

  “Bella!”

  Within seconds she was surrounded by a gaggle of women. Some she’d grown up with, some she’d gone to college with, one she had no idea who she was, but she must have had some connection or why would she be here? Unless it was curiosity to see what a Sicilian sheep farmer looked like.

  The wine flowed, the fake laughter punctured the air, and Bella was told so many times how beautiful she looked and how amazing her body was, it was like the conversation was on a pre-recorded loop.

  “Seriously, Bella, how do you stay in such great shape? Yoga? Or is there some new European fitness routine we haven’t heard of yet?” Stephania, a college classmate asked.

  Everyone stopped talking and stared at her like she had a secret that would revolutionize their lives. “I run a farm in Sicily. I get up at 6:00 a.m. and don’t stop until I fall into bed at 9:00 p.m.”

  “Oh. Well. I don’t think that will work for me,” Stephania muttered while pouring herself another glass of wine.

  Bella checked the time on her phone, and Tiffany, the woman next to her, immediately grabbed the device from her hand. They passed her screen saver of Matteo around from woman to woman for inspection.

  I could’ve saved a fortune on clothes and simply handed out photos of Matteo to impress them.

  “Enough about me, what do you guys do?” Bella asked, pocketing her phone. She was pretty sure one or two women had texted Matteo’s photo to themselves.

  Two were married to sports stars Bella had never heard of but who, from the general buzz of approval, were considered amazing catches. Three were married to men in the financial sector, and the one Bella didn’t know was the wife of a doctor who worked with Kai. She looked extremely bored and kept checking her phone as though waiting for some call to rescue her. Bella knew the feeling.

  There but for the grace of a car accident, go I.

  “So, the guy in the photo, is he the same one you left Kai for? I thought he was a poor farmer,” Tiffany said. Bella could see the woman mentally totaling up the exact amount of money she’d spent on her outfit, right down to the tax.

  She and Tiffany had been in third grade together, so she could probably be considered Bella’s oldest friend. Tiffany hadn’t called or emailed once since Bella had moved to Sicily.

  “Matteo is the man I left Kai for. He was a farmer, but now he’s a businessman. He runs this amazing company that helps out hundreds of women living in poverty and provides them and their villages with clean water, schools, and medical facilities.”

  “Really? I heard he left you soon after the wedding,” Portia chimed in. She was already on her third drink, and as she gestured some of the wine sloshed out of her glass.

  Bella forced a smile. She was sure every word she said would be reported back to her mother at some point. “Matteo had an accident and lost his memory. But it’s been restored and we’re back together.” For now. Bella gulped down a large swallow of her drink, letting the alcohol burn away the trepidation that rose to choke her whenever she thought of the future.

  She glanced around the table. No way could she live this lifestyle, the society wife who lunched and went to all the right events and wore all the right clothes. It might be nice to get dressed up once in a while, but this was no longer her world. Even if the choice were to live the rest of her life alone on her sheep farm, she wouldn’t trade places with any of the women around this table.

  “I think we should meet him, just to make sure he’s real,” Portia said. “Who knows, maybe you’ve moved back in with Mommy and Daddy and just snapped that photo of some guy in the airport on your way home.”

  Natalie jabbed Portia in the side, but it hadn’t stopped her.

  Bitch.

  “He’s real. And he’s mine. And I don’t particularly care if you believe me or not. I have to go soon. I’m meeting my husband back at the hotel where we’ll undoubtedly have an amazing round of hot, sweaty sex before we go to dinner. Then back to the hotel where he’ll sing dirty Italian songs to me as he massages my aching feet. Honestly, I forgot how uncomfortable these shoes are. I do not know how you ladies teeter around on them all day every day.”

  “The heels?” Natalie flashed her own five-inch killer shoes out the side of the table. “You get used to them. No beauty without pain. If you stick around, I can give you the name of my podiatrist. He’s uh-maz-ing.” There was a general snickering around the table. Seemed Natalie’s podiatrist didn’t restrict himself to servicing her feet.

  Bella waved the waiter over and paid the table’s bill. Add another couple grand to what she’d spent today. She might not want to be a society wife, but she sure spent like one. She’d have to apologize to Matteo later. Maybe she’d stop at the lingerie shop on the way back to the hotel and buy something to lessen the blow.

  See how easy it was to get sucked back into the lifestyle? The constant one-upmanship killed all good intentions.

  “Well, it’s been great catching up with everyone. If any of you are ever in Sicily, give me a call. I can always use more hands on the farm.” Would she even be in Sicily this time next week? Damn, she really needed to get this sorted out.

  “No, thanks. I think I’ll stick to liposuction and Botox,” Tiffany said with a snide laugh.

  And implants. God, now who’s being a bitch? New York did not suit her.

  “Ciao.” With a wave, Bella left her former friends to talk about her.

  She popped into the first shoe store she came across and bought a pair of comfortable ballet flats. Relieved she could once again walk, she wandered her old neighborhood. On the sidewalk outside of her family home, she thought about knocking and attempting a reconciliation with her parents. But her father would undoubtedly be at work and her mother at the hair or nail salon. She could say hi to the housekeeper, but she didn’t want to risk getting Teresa fired if her parents had issued a no-admittance order against her.

  Her phone rang and Bella snapped open her purse to answer it. Had her mother spotted her and was calling to tell her to stay away? Or to invite her in? No, her mother wouldn’t have this number. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw it was Angela calling from Sicily. Had something happened at the farm?

  “Ciao, Angela. What’s up?”

  “Hey, Bella. How’s the Big Apple?” Angela’s sweet voice helped clear away the lingering toxicity.

  “Full of worms. I should have asked when I spoke to you earlier: did you want me to bring anything back for you?”

  “Nah, I got all I need right here.” Bella could hear the love in Angela’s voice. No doubt Tony sat beside her, holding her hand.

  “Everything okay over there?”

  “Mostly. The farm and animals are all fine. The vet’s chicken refused to go home with him, so I hope you don’t mind another addition to the household.”

  “No, that’s fine. I figured it would be impossible to separate Estella and Akbar. Anything else?” She was sure Angela wouldn’t call just because Bella had now inherited a lovestruck chicken.

  “I’m worried about the family in the guesthouse and need some advice.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “The man and woman fight constantly. He gets drunk and she drives off, not returning until the next morning when it all starts again.”

  “Are they damaging anything?”

  “No. But they have a four-year-old daughter. Last night at 10:00 p.m., she was wandering around the yard. Tony knocked on the guesthouse door, but no one answered so we took her into the cottage and made her comfortable. They didn’t come for her until the mother returned at eight in the morning. Should we call child services or something?”

  “What did the mother say when she found her daughter missing?” How could a mother leave her child, knowing there was a huge possibility the father would be too drunk to care for her?

  “She said she was sorry. The husband’s just back from a tour of duty in the army and has some issues. She promised it wouldn’t happen again.”

>   Bella stared at her childhood home. Elaborate flower displays flanked the brownstone’s front door, masking the hypocrisy inside with a cheery welcome. There was nothing for her here. She walked away. “Then let’s leave it for now. But will you keep an extra eye out for the girl?”

  “Absolutely. She’s a lovely little thing. Her name is Holly.”

  “Thanks, Angela.”

  “No problem. Enjoy yourself, Bella. And if you want more time with Matteo, we’re happy to stay and help here for as long as you’d like.”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  Part of Bella longed to be back on the farm where everything seemed so much simpler. She woke each morning knowing what she had to do. Yes, it was physically exhausting, but also satisfying. One thing she had learned during this time with Matteo was that she needed to keep busy or she risked becoming one of the vapid women she’d just lunched with.

  Wandering around the Met had lost its appeal, so she grabbed a taxi and headed back to the hotel, with a brief stop at a discount chain store for the “convince Matteo to come back to Sicily” lingerie. He would likely rip it off her in two seconds so spending more than $10 seemed a waste.

  If it worked, however, it would be priceless.

  • • •

  Matteo eased open the hotel room door. The concierge had said Bella had returned forty-five minutes ago, laden with bags. If she were having a nap, he didn’t want to disturb her.

  Exhaustion riddled his body. He’d been awake half the night making love to Bella and the other half tweaking the Saks Fifth Avenue presentation. Dio, he’d been counting on an answer today. Especially as he’d promised Bella he’d go to that lunch with her tomorrow, to be on hand in case her parents did show up.

  He left his laptop on the coffee table and had his jacket, tie, and shoes off before he got to the bedroom. Unfortunately, Bella wasn’t in bed, or the adjoining bathroom either. He retraced his steps and saw the doors open to the outdoor terrace. Lounging in a chair, she wore her short wrap, a martini on the table next to her. With her eyes closed, she hadn’t noticed his arrival and he took full advantage of the chance to check out his wife unobserved. She’d had her hair styled; there were a few more layers, one of which caressed her jaw. He could wrap it around his finger as his lips replaced the strand against her skin. Her legs were crossed and the wrap had fallen off her thighs, leaving a tantalizing glimpse of black lace. A breeze ruffled the lapel, showing bare skin on her shoulder. What was she wearing, or not wearing, underneath?

  “Hey,” she said, her voice soft. “You’re back early. How’d it go?”

  He sat on the chair next to her. Where her wrap was plastered to her chest, he could see the outline of more lace. “The buyer was impressed but wants to throw something called a pop-up party tomorrow to test consumer reaction.”

  “That sucks.” She passed him a glass of whiskey that was next to her martini. “There’s ice in the bucket if you want.”

  “This is good. How was your day? Did you meet your friends for lunch?”

  She made a face. The same one he’d seen when she lost the toss to muck out the donkey’s stall in the barn. “I have nothing in common with them anymore.”

  It seemed she felt the same way about New York as he did about Sicily. Maybe he didn’t need to worry about this visit triggering longings to return for her.

  He reached over and fingered the strand of hair at her cheek. “I like your hair.”

  “Thank you.” The huskiness of her voice flooded his groin with heat. He had so much work to do, throwing together a party in a city where he knew no one, and all he wanted to do was lose himself in Bella.

  He swallowed another mouthful of whiskey, enjoying the burn down his throat. “Where do you want to go for dinner?” They’d better head out soon, before he devoured her instead.

  “Here. Let’s order Chinese food and spend the evening watching reruns of Seinfeld.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I haven’t had Chinese in ages. And with all the traveling, I’m tired. Do you need help with the party?”

  He finished his drink and toyed with the silk belt tie to Bella’s wrap. One tug and he’d reveal all. “The Saks woman is organizing the venue and catering. I have to sort out the display. She’s going to invite the store’s VIP clientele. But I’m worried. Who’s going to come to a last-minute party on a Thursday night?”

  “Lots of people. Friday’s the dead night. That’s when everyone heads back to their country houses. But I’ll spread the word.” Bella got a wicked gleam in her eye. “In fact, don’t worry about the guest list at all. I know a way to pack the place.”

  He tugged on her belt and the wrap slid open to reveal a sheer black lace corset. She sipped her martini, acting as cool as gelato. “Can you order the food while I take a shower?”

  “Yup.”

  When he emerged from the shower ten minutes later, Bella snapped his photo with her phone as he strode into the room wearing only a towel around his hips. She’d refastened her robe, but he knew what lay underneath now.

  He was seriously off his game. “How long till the food comes?” He should have made love to her first then had her order dinner. Except he’d been sweaty from running around New York in July heat and needed to wash up. Next time, he’d coax Bella into the shower with him.

  “Not long enough,” she replied. She snapped another photo.

  “This is all yours anytime you want,” he said, gesturing at his body. “No need to take pictures.”

  “They’re not for me. They’re how I’m going to pack this venue tomorrow night. Your phone has been pinging with incoming messages. If you have the location and time, I can get started on inviting people.”

  He grabbed his phone from the table and scrolled through his inbox. “How are you going to invite people with a picture of me in a towel?”

  “No one at lunch truly believed you exist. They’ll come just to make sure you’re real and that I didn’t Photoshop your picture.”

  “I don’t have to wear a towel to this thing tomorrow, do I?” He stalked toward her, cornering her against the sofa.

  “No. I want you in a full suit. But they’ll fantasize about what’s underneath, and it’ll drive them crazy.”

  “Kind of like what you’re doing to me right now. I like your lingerie.” He undid the belt and slipped the wrap from her shoulders to flutter to the floor. His hands slid up from her waist to just under her arms where his thumbs could rub against her nipples through the lace.

  “It’s itchy as hell.”

  “I should get it off you—” Before he could complete his sentence, or take action, the door buzzer sounded, followed by a knock. New Yorkers, so impatient.

  Bella bent down and picked up her robe. “You have to feed me first.” She shrugged it on as she went to answer the door. While she paid for their meal, he forwarded her the location and time details the Saks’s buyer’s assistant had sent him. This party idea made about as much sense as a chicken falling in love with a camel, but the buyer had insisted.

  He helped Bella unload the two plastic bags of food, searching for the forks. “Um, all they sent was chopsticks. I’ll call downstairs for some cutlery.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with chopsticks?”

  “I’ve never used them.”

  “How did I not know this?” A saucy smile quirked her lips upward and she had her head cocked to the side again.

  “I was a poor Sicilian vegetable farmer and then a Tunisian businessman. So far, chopsticks have not been a part of my life.”

  “Well, no need to worry. I’ll feed you.” She pushed him onto the sofa, grabbed a container of food and a set of chopsticks and then straddled him, her knees against his hips, her ass on his thighs.

  “Is this the normal way to eat Chinese food?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her. “I’ve just found my new favorite cuisine.”

  She unfolded the top of the paper con
tainer and a waft of garlic and soy sauce filled the air. Meanwhile, he unwrapped her for the third time. Although, as she was holding the containers of food, he had to make do with pushing the fabric off her shoulders. Before he could taste her, she popped a piece of broccoli and a sliver of beef in his mouth.

  The game was on. If she took too long to feed him, he’d nibble on her shoulder and fondle her breasts. As a result, she dropped quite a bit of food on him, which she invariably ate without the aid of the chopsticks. They hadn’t even finished half the beef and broccoli when she switched containers. The spicy noodles were delicious, especially when he pulled them from the paper box and draped them over her chest so he could lick them from her skin.

  “Behave yourself, Matteo. We have to eat it hot; it’s no good cold and there’s no way to heat it up,” she said as he suckled her nipple through the lace.

  “I was wrong. Chinese isn’t my favorite food. You are.”

  The containers were tossed onto the coffee table. The lace corset ripped. And the true feast began.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Matteo, this place is stunning,” Bella said as she entered the gallery.

  Judging by the dust and cobwebs, the space had been vacant for a while, which didn’t bode well for the success of the party. But shortly after Matteo had arrived at 7:00 a.m., a crew of cleaners got busy sorting things out. A lighting guy had shown up around noon, to position the track lights onto the vases and plates Matteo brought with him as samples.

  Last night, after they’d made love and eaten the cold but still delicious food, he and Bella had come up with a plan for the exhibition. She’d convinced him to focus not only on the works of art but on the people who created them. Farrah had emailed over as many photos as they had, especially the before and after pictures of the villages and the children. He’d had those printed onto sheets of translucent plastic and then transferred to glass panels throughout the space. With the image on the see-through background, they were subtle but powerful. As if the spirits of the artisans were here in the room with them.