Whisked Away by Her Sicilian Boss

by Rebecca Winters

  While the water was still running he examined the three small welts on her skin. “These will hurt, but I have a remedy my mother used that works well.”

  She couldn’t feel the pain, not while their bodies were so close and he was touching her. “Thank you,” she said in a tremulous voice before lifting her head.

  His eyes searched hers before his free hand caressed the side of her face. “I’m sorry you got burned,” he whispered.

  Tuccia felt his breath on her lips. Her heart felt like it was going to pump right out of her chest. Driven by her love for him, she pressed her mouth to his, daring to let him know she wanted more. “It’s nothing,” she whispered, then quickly turned to put her hand under the water once more.

  He moved away from her. “I’ll run to the farmacia and be right back.” Cesare was out the door before she could think. It was just as well. If he’d stayed close to her a second longer, she would have made a complete fool of herself and thrown her arms around his neck.

  She’d never known the white-hot heat of desire for a man until now. To experience its power for herself was life-changing. The few guys at college she’d flirted with in class had meant nothing more than a little experimentation that couldn’t go anywhere.

  Though she’d always planned to run away before she had to marry Jean-Michel, she never expected to find loving fulfillment with one man. Tuccia hadn’t believed such a thing was possible. First she had to find the right man, and he had to find her.

  But when she heard the door open and Cesare walked back in the apartment with a small sack in his hand, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she was looking at the right man. The only man for her. She felt it in the marrow of her bones.

  Tuccia turned off the water and waited. He walked over to the counter and pulled from a shelf the bottle of honey she’d used in one of the recipes. Next, he opened the sack and drew out some gauze pads and a small box of plasters.

  Without looking at her he covered the gauze with honey and said, “Put out your arm and we’ll get rid of that pain.”

  Tuccia did his bidding. Within a minute he’d covered the three welts with the gooey gauze pads and secured them with a plaster. She marveled at his dexterity. “I had no idea honey could be used like this.”

  “It has dozens of restorative elements.”

  “Thank you, Cesare. I’m very lucky to have a boss who’s a doctor, too.”

  He smiled a smile that sent her pulse off the charts. “You should be feeling relief soon.”

  “That’s good because I need to poke a hole in those balls and fill them with the ricotta cream I’ve made.”

  Cesare darted her a glance. “All of it will keep. Before you do any more cooking, I thought we’d pick up lunch and have a picnic. It will give those burns a chance to settle down.”

  “A picnic? I’d love it! When I think about it, I haven’t been on one of those since I was a little girl. My zia would take me to the park and we’d feed the birds. I’ll grab the things I need and meet you at the car.”

  She dashed into the bedroom for her scarf. When she’d put it on, she slid her sunglasses in place and hurried out of the apartment. Cesare, the striking, quintessential Sicilian male, was there to help her in and they drove off.

  For once in her life, what was happening to her wasn’t a dream her mind had concocted while she’d been asleep. She was wide awake. This was real. Her feelings were real and she wanted to shout to the world that she was madly in love with him.

  He stopped at a local deli for takeout and they headed toward Milan. Before long he turned onto the grounds of the Giardino Della Guastalla. “These gardens are five hundred years old,” he explained. “I know the perfect spot where we can be alone. Maybe we’ll be able to feed a few birds the remnants of our lunch. Do you mind sitting on the grass?”

  “To be out in nature is exactly what this warm day calls for.”

  He parked and they walked to a lush spot beneath a giant oak tree. The freedom to be out here alone with Cesare made her giddy. After removing her sunglasses, she lay down in the grass on her stomach and rested her head against her arms.

  “Careful of those burns,” he said, sitting down next to her.

  She squinted up at him. “Honestly? I forgot I was hurting. Your honey has worked miracles.”

  “I’m glad.” Cesare opened up the cartons. She turned on her side and leaned on one elbow while they ate shrimps and pasta salad with little forks. He opened a bottle of red wine and poured it into cups. She drank some and munched on a French bread roll.

  “I feel sinful lying here.”

  Blue eyes full of amusement roved over her. “Because you’re with me instead of your former fiancé?”

  “No.” She smiled. “Because I’m with someone I care about to the exclusion of anyone else,” she said before it was too late to stop her thoughts from becoming verbal.

  He drank the rest of his wine. “Surely there’ve been some men you’ve liked who have tried to have a secret relationship with you?”

  “I was always under surveillance, Cesare.” She looked at him through veiled eyes. “As you know, there are different levels of liking without much emotional involvement. I liked some of the guys in my classes, but didn’t have the freedom to do anything about it. But to actually care for someone means having the time to explore feelings that touch on the deeper elements of the human heart.”

  Realizing she’d said too much, Tuccia sat up and wound her arms around her upraised knees. “I’m afraid I’ve embarrassed you when I didn’t mean to.”

  Cesare leaned closer. “Why would I be embarrassed to be paid a compliment like that?”

  She put her sunglasses back on. “You always know the right thing to say, so I’ll never see what’s really going on inside you. But I’m thankful for this moment out of time to enjoy the company of a man revered by his mother and his friends. No men from my world can claim that distinction.”

  “Do you mind if I ask you a question about Jean-Michel?”

  “Of course not.”

  “When your marriage was arranged, had you already met him?”

  “No. My parents gave one of their many parties at our palazzo and insisted I attend. I was only sixteen and had refused to go because I couldn’t bear to be around grownups. But this time my father came to my room carrying a long dress. He said he would wait while I put it on. It was humiliating to be walked from my apartment to the grand ballroom like I was a baby.

  “He led me through their usual set of guests to my mother. She was standing next to a man twice my age I didn’t recognize and didn’t like on sight. He was shorter than my father and overdressed, reminding me of a peacock. I shrank from his dark eyes where the lids remain at half mast like some French men’s.

  “My father introduced me to Jean-Michel Ardois, the son of Comte Ardois of Paris. He wasn’t Sicilian, another huge strike against him. The man kissed my hand and slid a ring with a crest on my finger. While I stood there in shock, my father announced our engagement.”

  Tuccia smiled at the man who’d become the center of her universe. “Aren’t you sorry you asked?”

  His expression had sobered. “I want to know everything about you. Where’s the betrothal ring now?”

  “I’m sure it has been returned to Jean-Michel. I left it on the floor of the ladies’ room at the salon.”

  He studied her features. “How often did you have to spend time with him?”

  “Twice a year I endured a visit from him at my parents’ palazzo until my father enrolled me at the University of Paris. He said I would have to learn French in order to be the comte’s wife. Once my parents took an apartment there, I had to go to the ballet or the opera with him every few months. Several times we went horseback riding on the Ardois estate. Our desultory conversations were worse than waiting for a tr
ain that never seems to come.”

  Cesare drank more wine. “You’re not only articulate, you paint haunting pictures. Tell me more.”

  It was wonderful being able to open her thoughts and heart to him. “The first time we went out alone, I made up my mind I would run away before the marriage on my twenty-fifth birthday. If I could have disappeared the night of the betrothal, I would have. But I was never left alone until that morning at the salon for my dress fitting,”

  “Literally never?” He sounded incredulous.

  “Never. My parents accused me of being a willful child and didn’t trust me. Someone was always watching me, even when I stayed with Zia Bertina.”

  A strange sound came out of him. “Did he ever try to take advantage of you?”

  “Yes. I was so disgusted I slapped his face hard and pushed him off me. It left a red mark that probably branded him for several hours.”

  “Did he try to accost you every time you were together?”

  She could tell Cesare’s dislike for Jean-Michel was growing more intense. “No. I don’t think he dared for fear I’d do something worse. Instead he bided his time until he had legal power over me. Grazie a Dio that never happened.”

  On that note she got to her feet and put the cartons back in the bag with the rest of the wine. To her surprise he stood up and put his arms around her from behind. “I thank God it didn’t happen to you, either.” He kissed her neck.

  Tuccia could have died of happiness right there, but a group of people were walking by. Cesare had seen them, too, because he let go of her.

  “We—we need to get going so I can finish the sfingi and start the testa di turco,” she stammered. Before he could say anything else she added, “My arm is so much better I can hardly believe it, so you don’t have to worry that I can’t work anymore today, Dr. Donati.”

  His quiet laughter hid whatever he was really thinking. Together they walked to the car. He gave her arm a squeeze before helping her get in. She’d wanted him to crush her against him and tell her he was in love with her, too.

  Unfortunately this interlude was over, but it was yet another one with him she’d always treasure. The memories were stacking up and her love for him was exploding.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  WHEN THE LAST batch of testa di turcos were finished and decorated, Cesare proclaimed them perfect and announced he was leaving. One more day tomorrow to guide Tuccia through two more recipes and then this private time with her was over.

  He would no longer have a legitimate reason to come to the pensione. From that point on their business would have to be conducted at the castello kitchen. A limo could take her back and forth. After today he realized he couldn’t afford to be in such close quarters with her. Her burns had given him a reason to touch her, something he should never have done.

  To see her lying there in the grass while he wanted to get down there with her and kiss them into oblivion had almost killed him. Another time like that and he’d have to act on his desire. If those people hadn’t walked by while he was kissing her neck, he would have pulled her back down and shown her how he felt.

  But he’d picked up enough on hearing her talk about her life with her parents to realize how lonely, how empty her life had been. Being forced to think about marriage at the age of sixteen was criminal, as his mother had said. Cesare refused to be the man who came along at the most vulnerable time in her life and took away her chance to be emotionally free.

  Today at the park he knew she wanted him. But she deserved marriage. That was the only way Cesare would make love to her. She would have to be his legal wife, but the situation with Jean-Michel wasn’t yet resolved. And deep down inside, he didn’t feel worthy of her.

  “Cesare?” His head jerked around. “I guess you didn’t hear me. Who is the person who prints the menus for the guests? How far ahead do I have to get the names of the desserts to that person?”

  “Don’t worry about that yet. Gemma’s pastries will be served until next Monday.” He was impressed she’d been thinking that far ahead.

  Tuccia bit her lip. “What about the ingredients that come to the kitchen from town? Am I in charge of ordering them, or do I coordinate with Maurice? There’s so much I don’t know.”

  “How could you have learned everything in a few days?” Her ability to consider all the ramifications of her new job astounded him. “I’ll be there to answer your questions.

  “Right now we’re concentrating on your feeling good about the half-dozen desserts you’re mastering. That way you’ll have confidence talking to your assistants and giving them instructions on how to prepare what you’ve planned. I promise things will fall into place. Now I have to leave.”

  She walked him to the door. “I can’t tell you how nice it was to eat at the park this afternoon. If you’re tired of my thanking you, then you’ll just have to get used to it.”

  “That works both ways. You’re helping me so I don’t have to go back to doing a chef’s job I gave up a long time ago. We’re even.”

  Tuccia shook her head. “No, we’re not.” She clung to the open door. “How long were you a chef?”

  “From the moment I arrived in New York. The pay put me through part of college. I took out a loan to buy a small restaurant that was going under and called it Mamma’s. People love Sicilian food and pretty soon I’d made enough money to buy another restaurant.”

  She let out a sigh. “And history was made. It explains why you’re such an expert teacher. Your mother must have been so proud of you to leave Sicily and put your stamp on the world. I’m proud of you, Cesare. Does your father have any idea what an outstanding son he has?”

  No one had ever asked him that. Her sweetness was getting to him. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t even know if he’s alive. When he left my mother, she never saw or heard from him again.”

  “What a tragedy for him. Your father missed out on the whole point of life. I’d love to meet him and tell him what a fantastic son he has.”

  Cesare cleared his throat. “I thought the same thing about your parents when you told me about your emptiness.”

  A shadow crossed over her stunning features. “Forget me.”

  That would be impossible.

  Donati. If you stay here talking to her any longer, you’re a fool.

  “I spoke with my mother earlier. She said your parents are genuinely upset over your disappearance. I was glad to hear it. Bertina sees a fissure in the ice where they are concerned. I just thought you should know.”

  Her eyes clouded over. “That’s pretty hard to believe.”

  “I don’t think she would have said anything if she didn’t think it were true.” He kissed her temple. “See you in the morning. I’ll make breakfast when I get here. Same time?”

  She nodded, causing her black curls to shimmer. He longed to plunge his fingers into that silky mass and devour her.

  Without lingering any longer, he walked out to the car and drove away without looking back. Needing a distraction, he turned on the radio and found a twenty-four-hour news station. But he didn’t hear anything about her case until he’d pulled into the parking area of his favorite sports bar in the village.

  That’s when he learned that Interpol was now involved to coordinate police cooperation throughout Europe in order to find the princess.

  After shutting off the engine, he went inside and ordered, a pale lager from a Lombardi brewery both he and Takis enjoyed. While he waited for the waiter to bring some appetizers, he phoned Vincenzo. His friend wouldn’t be taking Gemma to their home in Lake Como until next week. Cesare needed some advice and no one had a better head.

  He reached Vincenzo’s voice mail and asked him to call him when he could. Once he’d finished his lager, he headed for the castello and let himself in his private office off the lobby. Wh
ile he did some work on the computer that had been piling up, his friend returned the call and Cesare talked to him about Tuccia’s disappearance.

  “Tonight I heard that Interpol is now involved. It’s getting ugly. Tuccia has sent Jean-Michel a letter of apology. He should be getting it soon. But part of me wants to urge her to get in touch with him right away and settle this thing quietly with him and her parents. The press could then be informed that she’s safe and they’ve called off their marriage.”

  A long silence ensued. “In a perfect world, Cesare. But I was born in her imperfect one. She’s done something uncommonly courageous. It’s just my opinion, but I think she needs to see it through on her own inspiration, come what may. That’s what I did with no regrets.”

  It was the “come what may” part that made Cesare shudder. He couldn’t ignore what she’d told him at the park about her caged life, but he valued Vincenzo’s judgment. “Thanks for listening. I appreciate it.”

  “We’ve been through a lot together, amico. Are you going to be all right?”

  “I’ll have to be, won’t I.”

  He hung up. There’d be little sleep for him tonight. Instead of going up to his room, he began printing off copies of the recipes she’d been following under his supervision. When the time came, she would have to hand them to her assistants.

  Dozens of other tasks needed to be taken care of. Why not now while adrenaline surged through his veins over the cruelty Tuccia had endured this far in her life. She’d been robbed of a normal existence. If he didn’t have responsibilities, he’d disappear with her to some hidden spot on the other side of the globe and love her without worrying about anything else.

  * * *

  This morning Tuccia had got up at five-thirty to finish her surprise for Cesare and make some rolls. She’d started their breakfast before she’d gone to bed and hoped he’d love it. He’d done so much for her that she wanted to do this small thing to repay him. Today would be their last for working together alone.

  In the past when she’d gone out on the royal yacht with her parents and their friends in the summer, one of the aspects she looked forward to was the Sicilian breakfast served on board. Curious to know how granita was made, she’d prevailed on the cook to show her.