Whisked Away by Her Sicilian Boss

by Rebecca Winters

  She walked him to the front door. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for shielding me and giving me this chance.”

  “I’m equally grateful and impressed that you’re willing to try something so different from the world you’ve come from to help me. Who knows? We may pull this off yet.”

  She flashed him a tired smile. “‘May’ being the operative word. Bona notti,” she called to him.

  * * *

  On Cesare’s way to the castello, her parting words resonated inside him. She’d said good-night to him in Sicilian, using the Palermo dialect. It reminded him of the language he used with his own family, making him feel more connected to the princess.

  That was bad. He couldn’t afford to have intimate thoughts about her, but that was a joke because he could still feel her body pressed against his in his mother’s kitchen. That was a moment he couldn’t forget if he wanted to, even if she’d just run away from her fiancé.

  Cesare had offered to help her so she could gain her independence. He hadn’t done it to take advantage of her. The last thing he intended was to come on to her. If he did that, he’d be every bit as bad as the lecherous comte Cesare’s mother had described.

  You are just as bad, Donati.

  By the time the limo dropped him off around the back of the castello, he realized he had to tell his partners the truth about her. If they couldn’t handle it—and he was pretty sure they couldn’t—he would understand. So would Tuccia. Even though he hadn’t been around her long, he knew she’d pretend it was all right.

  It was five to ten when he stole through the passageway to the back stairs not used by the hotel clientele. Halfway to his room on the second floor in the private section, he ran into Takis coming down the stairs from the turret bedroom he and Lys used when they were in Milan. They had their own home in Crete and flew back and forth.

  “Cesare—You’re back! We didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow. What have you got there?”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  Takis frowned. “What’s going on?”

  “I had a slight change in plans. Where are you headed?”

  “To the kitchen.” Takis smiled. “Lys had a sudden craving for ice cream.”

  “So it’s true about pregnant women.”

  “Si. One day it’ll be your turn to find out.”

  A sudden vision of a pregnant Tuccia in her yellow silk robe flashed through Cesare’s mind, disturbing him.

  “Eh, amico. What’s wrong?”

  Diavolo. What wasn’t? “Everything’s fine.”

  “The hell it is.” Takis could read him like a book.

  “Your wife needs you. Is Vincenzo here or in Lake Como with Gemma?”

  “In order for us to be together tomorrow and meet the new cook, they never left for home.”

  “Perfetto. See you two in the morning.”

  Not wanting to prolong this any longer, Cesare bounded up the rest of the stairs. When he reached his suite, he put the tray of tarts on the coffee table and went in the other room to take a shower.

  Later, after throwing on a robe, he phoned his mother and found out the police had been by the villa asking questions about Tuccia.

  “I said I didn’t know what they were talking about. I’d been at the hospital all day and told them to check the nursing station at San Giovanni if they needed verification. That was enough for them and they left. I’m positive they won’t be back.”

  “Grazie al cielo.”

  “Bertina is overjoyed no one can find her niece.”

  It might interest his mother to know Cesare’s relief was just as great. The more he thought about Tuccia’s detestable royal engagement, the happier he was that he’d played a part in her escape. As for the rest... “I take it Ciro is still in the ICU.”

  “Oh, yes. The nurse told me she would call me when they moved him to a private room so I could visit.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Tell me how you are. How’s Tuccia?”

  “We’re both fine.” He’d told Takis the same thing. Fine covered a lot of territory, good and bad. “Don’t worry about anything. Get some sleep, Mamma. That’s what I’m going to do.”

  Not wanting to answer any more questions, he hung up wondering if he’d be able to get any while he was torn apart by thoughts of Tuccia and what would be the best thing for her. Now that he’d agreed to help her, he had to see this through one way or the other. But he couldn’t seem to stop from touching her. Earlier tonight he’d kissed her.

  Cesare was about to turn out the overhead light when there was a knock on the door. Instinct told him it was Takis. He crossed the room and opened it to discover both him and Vincenzo standing at the threshold.

  “Shouldn’t you two be with your wives?”

  Vincenzo’s silvery stare had a way of pinning you in place. “We think you need us more.”

  “I’d hoped to have this conversation in the morning.”

  Takis shook his head. “Let’s talk now or none of us will get any sleep.”

  How true. But the fear that his partners might not be on board with his plan to train Tuccia had been bothering him. Deep inside lurked another fear that if she left Milan to do something else, she wouldn’t tell him where she’d gone and he might never see her again.

  “Come in.” They walked in his sitting room and sat down. He paced for a minute before coming to a stop. “I don’t want to keep you up all night, so here’s the bottom line. The person I’d hired for our ristorante is in the hospital in Palermo as we speak.”

  In the next breath Cesare explained everything that had happened from the moment he’d arrived at his mother’s villa until now. He told them about Ciro’s sudden illness and Tuccia’s plight.

  “I took her to the pensione where Gemma stayed. She’s safe there for the time being. During the flight I came up with a solution to both problems.”

  In the next breath he told them of his idea to turn her into the temporary new pastry cook for the castello until Ciro was well. He only left two things out; the fact that she’d been the one who’d begged him for the job, and his intense attraction to the principessa. Cesare had never burned for a woman like this in his life.

  “Hearing about her disappearance is like a dose of déjà vu for me,” Vincenzo commented.

  Cesare nodded. “When Mamma admitted why she was hiding Tuccia, I could understand. It took me back to that morning in New York when you told me and Takis about your escape from your father at eighteen years of age. She’s twenty-five, but still in much the same situation as you were back then.”

  “That was a horrific time. I can well imagine what Princess Tuccianna is going through right now.”

  “But she’s my responsibility, not yours. Tonight on the way up here I decided I had to be out of my mind to think up such a ridiculous plan.” She’d been so desperate, he hadn’t been able to find the strength to turn her down. “On the jet she talked about another plan she had in mind to stay in hiding. I don’t doubt it would work for a while.

  “Once she’s gone I’ll be acting pastry chef while I search for the right person to replace Gemma. I can only hope Ciro might recover much sooner than the doctor estimated.”

  Without commenting, Takis eyed the covered pan on the coffee table. “Are you going to let us taste her first endeavor?”

  “I was just going to ask the same thing,” Vincenzo commented.

  “There’s no point. I’m not willing to drag you two into this mess.”

  “Why don’t you let us decide.”

  “No, Takis.” He shook his head. “All we would need is for the press to find out she’s working within the walls of the castello. We’d be charged for obstructing a police investigation. I’d face an additional charge for flying her here. It would cause a
n international scandal that could ruin our business.”

  At this point Vincenzo had gotten to his feet. “Not showing up for her wedding would be a disappointment to her fiancé and parents, but it isn’t a crime. As far as I can see, no crime has been committed by anyone. She turned to her aunt for assistance. That woman called on your mother who enlisted your help. The police don’t know that.”

  “Vincenzo’s right,” Takis chimed in. “Besides, Tuccia is over twenty-one and is welcome here as a staff worker. If she wore a disguise and used a fake name, it’s not our fault we didn’t recognize her.”

  “Thanks, guys, but the police wouldn’t see any of it that way.”

  “How are they going to find out?”

  Cesare rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. “I don’t know, but you can be sure there’ll be a leak somewhere.”

  Takis looked up at Cesare. “Mind if we find out what a good teacher you are?”

  “Go ahead. She’s never cooked anything in her life, but she followed Mamma’s sacred recipe for Sicilian nun buns to the letter.” He uncovered the pan so they could take one.

  Both men started eating and didn’t stop until half of the decorated mounds were gone. Tuccia could have received no greater compliment.

  Vincenzo lifted his head. “You swear you didn’t cook these yourself?”

  “I stood over her shoulder. That’s all.”

  “She really made these on her own?” Takis looked astounded.

  Cesare nodded. “It took her three tries. She even cleaned up the mess in the kitchen afterwards.”

  “Do you think this was a one-time accident, or is the princess the proverbial diamond in the rough?”

  “I’d like to see her make half a dozen Sicilian desserts at the pensione before I could answer that question, Takis. Today it was fear that drove her. She’d do anything to stay hidden. But to master the art of fine pastry making and love to do it is a gift only a few people possess. Within a few days she could hate it.

  “As for her working here as the pastry chef, it would mean dealing with the kitchen assistants. I have no idea how she would handle them under pressure. For all of those reasons I’m going to tell her this won’t work.”

  “Not so fast,” Vincenzo interjected. “Before you say or do anything, why don’t I ask Gemma to visit her tomorrow? Let her lay out what a day in the kitchen would be like for Tuccia. She’d be able to ask my wife questions about the routine and the personalities she would have to deal with.”

  “But Vincenzo—Gemma learned from her mother and studied pastry making for ten years at the finest school in Florence. She would laugh in disbelief at such a ludicrous idea.”

  Vincenzo shook his head. “We’ve all heard the news about the princess who ran away. No one would be more understanding than my wife who saw first-hand what went on between my father and me years ago. Takis and I agree those nun buns the princess made were divine. I think it’s worth going to the trouble to give her a chance. I know Gemma will feel the same way.”

  “You don’t want her on her feet at this late date in her pregnancy. Neither do I.”

  “Cooking for hours every day is entirely different than having a serious talk with Tuccia.”

  Takis nodded. “He’s got a point, Cesare.”

  “I don’t know. I have a lot to think about. Tomorrow when I go down to the pensione, I’ll probably discover she wants to leave. Whatever is decided, I’ll let you know. I guess you realize I’m indebted to you two for being the best friends any man could ever have. Now go to bed. That’s an order.”

  Both men stole the rest of the mounds from the pan before walking out the door.

  Cesare tossed and turned all night, too eager to see her again to sleep. Early the next morning he got dressed and left the castello in his hard-top sports car parked around the rear. He took the empty pan with him.

  When he reached the village, he stopped at a trattoria for takeout: breakfast for two. To his dismay he realized that he was so excited at the prospect of seeing her again he couldn’t think about anything else. Though it had only been a few days, Tuccia had taken up space in his mind and heart.

  He’d known desire for women and had enjoyed several short-term relationships, but they’d always stopped short of marriage because some crucial element had been missing. That was what he’d always told himself. But this was different because so far Tuccia appealed to him on every level and had already colored his world.

  He reached the pensione at eight and got out of the car. After knocking on the door, he expected her to answer in tears and be anxious to get to the train station.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LAST NIGHT TUCCIA had wished Cesare had stayed. But if she’d asked him not to go, she would have given him the wrong idea. She had a problem because she knew she’d fallen in love with him and was more attracted to him with every passing minute. When the limo pulled away, she’d closed and locked the door, fearing she wouldn’t get to sleep for a long time.

  At four this morning, an exhausted Tuccia had turned off her watch alarm and got out of bed to do her homework. It was one thing to cook while Cesare had stood there directing her every step. The trick was to do it while he wasn’t watching.

  She knew there were enough ingredients for her to make one more batch of the tarts on her own. But with no big shallow pan, she’d had to improvise with two small round pans with higher sides she’d found in the cupboard. As a result, she still had half the batter to cook.

  If she failed miserably, then she’d be the first to ask him to drive her to the train station. It would be the last thing he would ever have to do for her. Before she threw herself at him, she realized it would be better if she never saw him again.

  Tuccia had thought her initial physical attraction to him would fade, but the opposite had happened. His underlying goodness as a human being had opened her eyes to the other qualities in his nature that had nothing to do with his striking male looks. Everything about him from his intellect to his humor stimulated her. So much, in fact, that she was breathless as she waited to see him again today.

  The knock on the door came sooner than she had expected, sending her pulse racing as if she had a sickness. She put down the cup she’d been using to add the final lemon glaze to the tarts she’d made. There were still three to be coated and decorated.

  After wiping her hands on a towel, she hurried to answer the door, knowing flour still dusted part of the same blouse she’d worn last evening. There was even some on her forearms.

  When she opened it, their eyes met for a quiet moment. His were smiling, if there was such a thing. She got a fluttering in her chest as his gaze wandered over her.

  “I bet you didn’t know there’s flour on the tip of your nose.” Before she could blink, he removed it with his thumb. His touch sent an electricity-like spark through her body. “If I don’t miss my guess, I would say you’ve already been hard at work this morning.”

  She was worried yet excited to show him. “Come in and find out.”

  Cesare walked through to the kitchen with another bag of food and the empty pan. He put them both on the counter and pulled a phone out of his pocket.

  “This is for you. All programmed.” He put it at the end of the counter.

  Tuccia thanked him, but she had no idea where the batch of tarts he’d left with had ended up. She didn’t think she wanted to know.

  Without asking her permission, Cesare took a finished product from one of the small round pans. He examined it first. Then he bit into it. An anxious Tuccia waited while he took another bite and another, until it was all gone. Uh-oh. Here it comes.

  “Why are you closing your eyes?” he asked in a quiet voice.

  “I don’t know. So I can handle the bad verdict better?”

  “On your fourth try, you’ve achi
eved perfection. The cinnamon balance is just right. As for the shapes, my mother wouldn’t know them from her own. If I didn’t have a knowledge of your upbringing, I’d think you came out of the same nunnery.” This time he brushed her mouth with his own.

  She opened her eyes, trying to contain her joy. “Thank you, Cesare, but you don’t have to overdo it.”

  He ignored her comment. “I’m even more impressed you found something else to cook them in. This apartment is ill-equipped for a chef. When Mamma told me you were resourceful, I don’t believe that even she understood the scope of your abilities.”

  Tuccia scoffed. “She was only quoting my zia who thinks I can do no wrong. She and my zio wanted babies so much. What they got was me when my parents didn’t know what to do with me. Bertina was the one bright light in my existence.”

  “As you still are in hers,” he came back, seemingly deep in thought. “Otherwise she wouldn’t have risked everything to help you.” His blue gaze swerved to hers, sending more darts of awareness through her body. “That includes using my mother who happens to have the same favorable opinion of you.”

  “I’ll never be able to thank her enough for what she’s done. But right this minute I want the honest answer to one question. After talking to your partners, should I be getting ready to leave for Catania?”

  He lounged his rock-hard body against the edge of the counter with his arms folded. “I’d like your honest answer to another question first. Why did you get up at the crack of dawn and go to all the effort of making another batch when you could have stayed asleep?”

  She took a deep breath. “Because I needed to find out for myself if I was capable of following that recipe on my own.”

  “Which you’ve demonstrated beyond all doubt. Would it interest you to know my partners devoured the tarts you made?”

  “No, they didn’t,” she said with an embarrassed chuckle.

  “One bite told them everything they needed to know. They stuffed themselves and took the few uneaten mounds with them when they left my room.”

  “Now you’re just trying to make me feel good because...because that’s the kind of man you are,” she said, her voice faltering.