Whisked Away by Her Sicilian Boss

by Rebecca Winters

“The three of us were in New York at the time. He had the idea to turn it into the business proposition it is today. That way he could preserve his family legacy and do something honorable for the region. I thought it a fantastic idea. So did Takis.”

  “Bravo for Vincenzo,” she exclaimed. “I can understand that happening in a family as power-hungry as his. It’s the only reason my parents made sure early in my life that they would have a son-in-law with a fortune. That would be their insurance to keep them living their lavish lifestyle to the end of their days.”

  Her words caused Cesare’s stomach muscles to clench. He drove them to the summit and took the road that wound behind the castello.

  “This place is massive.”

  “You’re right.”

  Two sets of guests from the hotel were out walking. He drove the car past them until they reached the lake much further away. She rolled down her window. “It’s so lovely and peaceful, but I don’t see any swans.”

  “They’re probably hiding in the rushes, but they’ll come out.” Cesare turned off the engine and turned toward her. “Tomorrow will be here before you know it. Gemma is ready to ease many of your concerns. But I’d like to know what is worrying you most and relieve you if I can.”

  Tuccia shook her head. “Do you know what I wish? That I could have been a normal person you’d hired at one of your restaurants in New York. Think how much I could have learned from you.”

  He had news for her. If she’d come into his life back then, they’d be married by now. He wouldn’t have hesitated asking her. “Instead you’re learning to be a pastry chef here.”

  “But it isn’t fair to you,” her voice cracked.

  “Tuccia...”

  “It’s true. You’re playing a dangerous game in order to protect me, Cesare. I honestly don’t know what Jean-Michel would do if he caught up to you.”

  Cesare smiled. “I’m afraid you should be worried what I’d do to him if I had the opportunity.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “Try me. What can he do except rage?”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “All I know is, your mother should never have asked you to help me.”

  He slid his arm along the back of the seat. “Aside from the fact that I met you at her house in the middle of the night, she didn’t have anything to do with my decision to fly you here.”

  She stirred in the seat. “How can you say that?”

  “Because I’ve had to live with Vincenzo and Gemma’s story for many years. The night my mother told me about your situation, the horror of their history came back to haunt me. For you to be forced to undergo a betrothal at your age was not only feudal, it was criminal.”

  “Zia Bertina said the same thing many times. That’s why she agreed to help me escape. I’ll love her forever for what she did for me.”

  “The emotional damage to you was as bad as anything physical,” Cesare spoke his mind. “When Mamma asked if I would help you leave Palermo, I didn’t have to think about it and was determined to help you any way I could. That hasn’t changed for me. Does that answer your question?”

  Once more she hid her face in her hands, but she nodded.

  He ruffled one of her curls with his fingers. “You said you wished you were a normal girl I’d hired to work in one of my restaurants in New York. In truth it’s exactly what I’ve done, but this restaurant happens to be in Milan. Shall we put all the angst of the past aside and concentrate on tomorrow? You’re my new pastry chef who’s going to be running the show.”

  She finally lifted her head. “I intend to make you proud. Maybe you should take me back to the apartment. I rested a little today, but I didn’t sleep. If I go to bed now, I’ll be in much better shape by morning. Another time I’ll come out here and watch for the swans.”

  Tuccia’s resilience was something to behold.

  “There’ll be many opportunities.” Cesare started the engine and he drove them back to the pensione. When they arrived, he walked her to the door.

  Don’t touch her, Donati.

  If he made that mistake, he would never leave her apartment. “I’ll be by for you at eight. We’ll have a working breakfast with Gemma.”

  “I’ll be ready. Thank you for the dinner and the tour, Cesare. Dormi bene.”

  “E tu.”

  Giving in to unassuaged longings, he pulled her in his arms, kissing her long and hard.

  He walked back to his car aware of a new fear attacking him. How would he handle it if he asked her to marry him and she turned him down?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CESARE WOULD BE by for her in a few minutes. Tuccia stood in front of the bathroom mirror in full chef regalia. She peered through her glasses. No lipstick. Not a hair in sight. No perfume, either. Gemma had told her not to wear any, but she could use a non-scented lotion.

  “This is your big day. If you’re recognized by someone on the kitchen staff, then it’s all over. Until then you’re going to do whatever it takes to prove worthy of Cesare’s faith in you.”

  Last night he’d pulled her in his arms and kissed her as she’d hoped. Now she was longing for the day when that happened again. Tuccia had felt his touch in every fiber of her being. She’d ached for him until she was afraid she’d never get to sleep. To her relief a miracle did happen, but only because she’d been up most of the night before.

  She walked through the apartment to gather her purse and bible. This place had become her home. Hers and Cesare’s. She’d never known such happiness. While she stood looking out the window, she saw his car pull up. Would her heart always palpitate with a frenzy when he came near?

  Not wanting to keep him waiting, she walked outside and climbed in before he could help her. His eyes were alive as they wandered from her floppy hat and down her body clothed in white to the sensible walking shoes she’d drawn out of her suitcase. She could tell he was thinking about what she really looked like under her disguise and it sent her pulse racing.

  “Bon jornu, Signor Donati,” she said in Sicilian.

  “Chef Bottaro. I’ve been searching a long time for you.” The way he’d said it in such a husky tone gave her hope that he was letting her know he loved her. With a smile, he started the car and they took off. “There are many things I want to discuss with you, not the least of which is how you’re feeling this morning.”

  “Like I’ve climbed to the top of Mount Pellegrino. There’s no going back and I’m looking down at a roiling ocean, terrified to make my first jump.”

  Something flickered in the depths of his eyes, intriguing her. “You sound like you’ve done that sort of thing before.”

  She nodded. “When I was a lot younger and hadn’t been put on as tight a leash.”

  His mouth tightened. “I used to climb that cliff regularly before I left for New York.”

  “All those ships going out to sea,” she mused. “Lucky you that you could leave and fulfill your destiny.”

  They’d reached the summit, but this time he took another road leading around the back of the castello where she saw a sign that said “Staff Parking Only.” He pulled to a stop and shut off the engine. Turning to her, he clasped her hand and entwined his fingers with hers.

  “In case you didn’t realize it yet, today you’re about to fulfill yours.” He leaned closer. “This is for luck, even if you don’t need it.” To her surprise he gave her a long hungry kiss on the lips that sent a surge of warmth through her body.

  She started to kiss him back, but he eased away too soon, leaving her bereft. Then he levered himself from the driver’s seat. After coming around to help her out, Cesare used a remote to let them in the rear entrance and walked her down a hall with several offices. He knocked on the last door. “Gemma?”

  “Oh, good. You’re here!” She op
ened it. But the second she saw Tuccia, she let out a small gasp. “Am I having a hallucination, or is it really you?”

  Cesare gave Gemma a hug. “Allow me to introduce Nedda Bottaro, the new Sicilian executive pastry chef who’s going to set a trend.”

  “I’ll say you are.” Gemma in turn gave Tuccia a hug. “I would never have known you,” she whispered. “You look more sensational than Maurice, who’s always immaculately turned out in the latest haute couture style for the well-dressed chef. When he sees you, he’ll be speechless.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “Definitely good after he finds his voice. Come in the office which is now going to be yours and have some breakfast I had brought in. Then we’ll all go to the kitchen and I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

  They sat down to eat and talk. Later, as Gemma was showing her what she kept in the desk drawers, Vincenzo unexpectedly appeared at the door. “Excuse me for interrupting, cara, but I knew you would all want to see this morning’s headlines. The police have called off the search for you, Tuccia.”

  She almost fainted from the news. So Cesare had been right. The letter had reached Jean-Michel.

  Vincenzo thrust the newspaper in her hands, but in her dazed state, she turned to Cesare. “You’re the reason this has happened so fast. I’m almost afraid to believe it. Will you please read what it says?”

  “If that’s what you want.” He put down his coffee cup. “Sicilian Princess No Longer Missing is the headline. Le Comte Jean-Michel Ardois of Paris has released the following information to the press: ‘Princess Tuccianna Falcone Leonardi, daughter of the Marchese and Machesa di Trabia of Sicily, has sent him a letter offering her deepest apologies for having disappeared the day before their marriage and causing grief to him and his family. In her letter to the comte, she says that throughout their betrothal, it became clear that they weren’t suited for each other. She thought about it for a long time and was convinced that they both needed to find someone else in order to be fulfilled. At the last minute she decided she had to run away to spare both of them a lifetime of unhappiness because the only reason two people marry should be for love.’”

  Tuccia heard a nuance in Cesare’s voice that told her he was touched by her words.

  “She lives in hope he’ll forgive her and that one day soon he’ll find a wonderful woman deserving of his love. The princess wishes him the very best in the future and hopes that in time she too will find happiness for herself.”

  He broke off talking. The room had gone quiet. At this point Cesare’s gaze flicked to hers. Emotion had darkened his eyes to a deep blue color. If he but knew it, Tuccia had already found her happiness. The most wonderful man on earth stood just a few feet away from her.

  Vincenzo took the newspaper from him and finished reading the article, but he too sounded emotionally affected as he read the rest. “‘Her parents, the Marchese and Marchesa di Trabia, have told the press they won’t give up searching for their beloved daughter. She’s their only child and they’re praying she’s safe and will want to come home soon.’”

  Tuccia lowered her head. “It’s hard to believe my parents would say those words. Up to now they’ve thought of me as the willful, unrepentant daughter who deserves to be punished. But if Cesare’s mother is to be believed, my zia says they are sorry for what has happened. I hardly know what to think.”

  “Let’s be thankful you’ve accomplished the most important thing,” Cesare murmured, sounding more subdued than she’d ever heard him. “The comte isn’t going to come looking for you now.”

  She lifted her head. “You’re right. It would be too humiliating for him. I really do wish him well. But it’s not so easy to forgive my parents.”

  Vincenzo wore a sober expression. “I relate to your feelings completely, Tuccianna. That’s why you’ll continue to work here in that disguise and we’ll do everything possible to protect you until you know it’s safe.”

  She got up from the chair. “Thank you so much,” she whispered. Tuccia needed time to comprehend all this news.

  Vincenzo smiled. “I defy anyone to know it’s you hiding under all that white.”

  “When I look in the mirror, I surprise myself,” she quipped. “Thanks again to all of you for helping me. I owe you a debt of gratitude I’ll never be able to repay in this life.”

  She looked at Gemma. “If you don’t mind, I’m so keyed up with this being my first day I’d like to meet the kitchen staff and get this part of it over with.”

  Gemma chuckled. “It’ll be my pleasure. Let’s go.”

  Tuccia stepped past Cesare. The four of them left the office and walked down another hall to the huge, state-of-the-art kitchen filled with a dozen assistants in aprons and beanies.

  Her heart almost failed her to think she was going to be the pastry chef here. At the far end she saw a man in a tall chef’s hat who was busy talking to Takis. Everyone was here. Her big day had arrived.

  Help.

  “Come on,” Gemma urged. “I’ll introduce you to the head man first.”

  Tuccia followed her.

  “Maurice Troudeau? I’d like you to meet my replacement, Nedda Bottaro.”

  The middle-aged French chef gave Tuccia a blank stare. Obviously he didn’t know what to make of her.

  She took the initiative. In her heaviest Sicilian accent she said, “It’s my honor to meet you, Signor. Thanks to Signor Donati, last evening I was treated to your fettuccini Alfredo, which I confess is the best I have ever eaten. I’m sure the herb you put in it is a secret I would never ask you to reveal.

  “But I can tell you it’s just one of the reasons your reputation has spread all the way to the tip of Sicily where I come from. They think they make the best fettuccini Alfredo. Not true.” She swiped the backs of her fingers under her chin in a typical gesture of her Palermitan heritage to make her point.

  The Frenchman eyed Gemma. “So you brought us a real Siciliana.”

  “To our delight, Cesare found her.”

  Tuccia spoke up. “It’s a great honor for me. I know I’m going to need your help if you’re willing, Signor Troudeau.”

  His gaze swerved back to her. “You can call me Maurice.”

  She was excited to have made that tiny breakthrough. “Grazie, Maurice. Please forgive the interruption when I know you are so busy. I, too, must get myself organized.”

  Opening her arms, she put her palms out in front, a Sicilian gesture to indicate there was much to do. When she turned, she almost walked into Cesare.

  He’d seen her gestures and his blue eyes twinkled as if to say she was doing everything right.

  By now Gemma had asked the pastry assistants to assemble around them. One by one Tuccia was introduced to the six of them. Three men and three women from Spain, Crete, France and Italy. After she’d chatted with each of them for a few minutes about their backgrounds and experience, she got down to the crux of what she’d planned to say ahead of time.

  “Call me Nedda. We’re going to be making Sicilian desserts from my part of the world. Such a change from the delectable Florentine desserts created by Signora Gagliardi. Everything will be different at first, but she says you are all experts so I’m happy to be working with you. Some day I’ll tell you my story, but not this morning.

  “Don’t be afraid to ask me any questions you want. Signor Donati says we should work together like one happy family. I agree. Of course there will be little squabbles from time to time, but that it is to be expected. Si?”

  “Si!” they said in a collective voice.

  “He’s going to give you the recipes we’ll be making for the next few weeks. I’d like you to study them. Pignolata, cassata, biancomangiare, cannoli—so many you’ll be counting them in your sleep like the proverbial sheep.” Except that she hadn’t made them yet and had a lot of homework to d
o first. Cesare had printed them out for her.

  Everyone laughed.

  “Tomorrow we will begin.” She nodded to Cesare. “Go ahead, signor, while I get acquainted with this kitchen. I don’t like working in such a large space and will probably want to move some things around.”

  Vincenzo and Takis talked with Cesare for a few minutes, then left.

  While Gemma gave Tuccia a two-hour tour of her new world, she felt Cesare’s gaze on her the entire time. Eventually the three of them ended back up in the office.

  A tired-looking Gemma smiled at her. “I never saw anything so amazing in my life as the way you made the kitchen your own. When you rattled off all those desserts, you sounded as if you’d been making them all your life.” Ha!

  “I’ve eaten them all my life, if that counts,” Tuccia interjected with a smile.

  “Maurice is so dazzled by the Siciliana I don’t think he’ll ever be the same again.”

  “Neither will the assistants,” Cesare stated. “Everyone was mesmerized beyond their ability to talk, including me. What do you say I drive you back to the pensione, and we’ll let Gemma have her freedom.”

  “Of course,” Tuccia exclaimed. “I can’t thank you enough, but I know you need to rest.”

  “I’ll admit I can’t wait to go upstairs and lie down. But I also have to admit I’m envious of the experience you’re about to have, Tuccia. With Cesare’s help you really are going to turn into an outstanding chef. I just hope you won’t have to leave us prematurely.”

  “That’s the last thing I want.”

  “Amen,” Cesare murmured. “Shall we go?”

  After thanking Gemma and giving her a hug, they walked out to the car and left for the village. Tuccia felt Cesare’s gaze on her. “You’re very quiet all of a sudden. You must be as hungry as I am. It’s after three.”

  “That’s not it. I was thinking about the latest news. Jean-Michel will probably demand recompense from my parents for his pain. And how do I know if my parents really are sorry?”

  “Time will tell. But that isn’t all you need to be worried about.” He’d pulled up in front of the deli.