The fingers exploring her spine stilled. ‘Are you?’
‘Sì. Ma non posso parlare bene. But I can’t speak it very well. E molto difficile.’
‘Why are you studying Italian?’ he asked in that tongue.
It took Alice a moment to put her answer into the right words. ‘So that I can speak like a native when I go there.’
His hand began to move up and down her spine once more. ‘You want to go to Italy?’ He was back to English.
‘Sì,’ she said, a wistful smile on her lips.
‘Italy’s beautiful, but it is no Greece.’
Alice laughed softly. ‘And you wouldn’t be at all biased?’
He shrugged, the action dislodging her head a little so she lifted her face to his, pressing her chin into his chest. ‘You will decide for yourself when we go there.’ His hand lifted to her hair, running through it, curling behind her head. ‘Why Italy?’
The past pulled at her like a string attached to her soul that she could never snip.
‘Beyond the fact it’s meant to be one of the most beautiful places on earth?’
‘Yes.’
She smothered a smile, knowing he wouldn’t let it go now he’d decided he was interested.
‘For a year, we lived in Massachusetts. Mom got a job working in a call centre for a phone company and she had a friend with a spare room so we packed up and moved.’ The description neatly glossed over how hard that time had been in Alice’s life. She’d been twelve, and had started to put down roots, to make tentative, hesitant friendships that she’d bitterly resented having to leave.
‘It was cold and dark and I hated it,’ Alice said with a wry smile. ‘To be fair to Massachusetts, I was a miserable pre-teen determined to hate the world and everyone in it. I’m pretty sure my perception was altered by that veil.’
‘You were a miserable pre-teen?’ he said with obvious disbelief.
Alice nodded sagely. ‘Oh, yes. I was an excellent adolescent.’ She shook her head then reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through it distractedly—and as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
‘We had a neighbour, Signora Verde. She used to see me come home from school and I guess she worried about me—Mom worked late and the friend of hers we were living with was a nurse who had shifts all sorts of hours. I was home alone a lot. Signora Verde would bring me plates of biscotti and hazelnut bomboloni fresh from the stove. She’d sit with me a while, and tell me about her town in Tuscany—Trefiumi Nord.’
Alice shook her head wistfully, remembering Signora Verde so clearly. ‘The way she described it...a hue of autumn colours all year round, walls that were golden and ochre with red-tiled roofs, buildings that nestled close together along streets that were ancient, lined with little uneven stones, roads that curved gently uphill, perfect for little Vespas to scoot along, window boxes overflowing with fragrant flowers—their pops of colour in the summer enough to take your breath away. The sound of old women sitting on plastic seats by their front doors, talking about their grandchildren as though each was a maestro in the making. The smell of garlic thick in the air, the noise of children running, clutching gelato in their sun-bronzed hands.’ Alice’s stomach clenched with the same sense of longing she’d felt then.
‘Signor Verde got transferred to North Dakota about six months after we moved to Massachusetts. I never saw her again. But the memories of Italy formed a part of me, and, no matter how hard things got, no matter how hungry I felt, I always remembered three things because of Signora Verde.’
‘And these things are?’
Alice smiled, with no idea of how the morning light caught in her eyes and turned them to pools of liquid gold—nor the effect this had on her husband. ‘That Italy is heaven on earth,’ she said with a wink. ‘That kindness—when you expect nothing in return—is the most important gift you can give anyone.’ The words were whispered because, truly, Signora Verde had come into Alice’s life at a time when her heart had been heavy and she had been so full of angst and sadness, a displaced, angry teenager.
‘And the third?’ His question was heavy with feeling.
‘The taste of freshly cooked bomboloni on a frigid winter’s afternoon.’ She smiled up at him, and her tummy rumbled on cue.
Thanos laughed. ‘I can see Greece has a lot to live up to.’
‘It does.’ She looked towards the window, the ocean glistening in the distant background.
Thanos’s smile was distracted and he was quiet for a moment. ‘Would you like to go to Italy today, Alice?’
She laughed, shaking her head. ‘You can’t be serious?’
‘Why not? Italy is only a two-hour flight. We could go for lunch.’
Alice laughed at the very idea. ‘And then what? Paris for dinner?’
‘If you’d like.’ He shrugged, but Alice’s heart turned over in her chest at the image he was painting. It was all too much. Even with all the evidence to the contrary, she found it almost impossible to believe this was her life—albeit temporarily.
‘Thanos.’ She laughed again, pushing up so she could see him more clearly. ‘You can’t just suggest we get on your private jet and fly to Italy for lunch!’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s... I mean...it’s just so...’
‘Yes?’
What? So exactly what she wanted? So completely as if her dreams were coming true?
‘So perfect,’ she said seriously now, her eyes filling unexpectedly with moisture. ‘Thank you. I’d like that. A lot.’
His smile released a thousand butterflies in her tummy.
‘So, Alice? Which would you prefer? Venice, Rome, or Florence?’
She weighed those choices and then shrugged. ‘Surprise me.’
His grin was relaxed. ‘Tóte as páme. Then, let’s go.’
Her heart turned over in her chest as she pushed out of bed. The sun was shining on a brand-new day and Alice was going to Italy. For the first time in a very long time, Alice felt truly, utterly happy.
* * *
In the end, they went to none of the cities of Italy. Alice described Signora Verde’s town Trefiumi Nord to Thanos and, with a little Internet searching on the flight over, they touched down in Florence and slipped into a limousine at the base of the aeroplane. Local time was an hour behind Port D’Angelo.
‘How far away is it?’ she asked, leaning forward and looking out of the window.
‘Not far. Half an hour.’
Alice bit down on her lip, excitement coursing through her veins. She couldn’t believe she was here in Italy—the place she’d wanted to go all her life.
And because of the man beside her.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she murmured to herself as the car sliced through the countryside. Enormous pine trees formed a forest over rolling green hills to the left of the car, and to the right gentle undulations in a patchwork of yellows gave way to a distant view of a stone castle.
As the car drove nearer to the castle, it came alongside a bubbling river, which glistened in the early afternoon sun.
‘Another river.’ She pointed to a fast-flowing body of water, crossing the first at a right angle.
Beside her, Thanos nodded. ‘Trefiumi Nord literally means Three Rivers to the North. I imagine the town is named for this.’
Alice turned to face him, her eyes sparkling, a smile on her lips.
‘I think Signora Verde said something along those lines.’ She sat back in the seat, contenting herself with watching the vista as it scrolled past their windows, with no concept of how Thanos watched her, his dark-rimmed eyes roaming over her face, seeing every flicker of delight, every roll of excitement.
‘Thanos, look!’ she squealed, as the car rounded a bend and a small town appeared almost out of nowhere. Nestled in the base of several rolling hills, it was crammed f
ull of yellow and golden terracotta homes, a castle in the centre with a renaissance church and cupola beside it, pencil pines poking up between some of the homes.
‘Oh, Thanos.’ She spun to face him. Alice was alive—and breathtaking. ‘I had no idea it would be even prettier than I’d imagined.’
The car drew to a stop on a narrow, cobbled street, and Thanos’s chauffeur, Ryan, was there, opening the door. Alice stepped out, emotions flooding her as she breathed in the fragrance and atmosphere of the place—a place which had always lived in her imagination but which was now a part of her reality.
‘Thank you. For bringing me here.’
His eyes were heavy on her face, his expression impossible to interpret. ‘You are very beautiful when you’re excited.’
An instinctive habit of knocking away the compliment filled her but she ignored it. When Thanos looked at her, she felt beautiful, and it had very little to do with looks.
‘Grazie,’ she whispered softly, smiling up at him.
They stood like that for a moment and to all the world, to any outsider, they must have looked like a perfectly normal pair of newly-weds. Completely besotted, in love, enamoured of one another.
Which was just as well, because a flash went off a moment later with an audible ‘click’ sound of a cell-phone camera.
Alice turned in that direction to find a woman holding her phone towards them. At being recognised, the cell-phone photographer quickly spun and walked away.
Alice frowned. ‘Did she just take our photo?’
Thanos’s expression was grim. ‘It happens.’
‘You’re serious? People actually just...take your picture?’
He nodded, putting a hand in the small of Alice’s back and guiding her away from the limousine. ‘Let’s keep moving.’
Alice went with him, but she couldn’t get the invasiveness of the press in his life out of her mind. ‘That really happens to you?’ she asked with a small shake of her head.
He tilted a wry smile at her. ‘I am somewhat recognisable.’
Alice stopped walking and looked up at him, frowning. True. Thanos Stathakis was instantly identifiable—not least because he was frequently in the tabloids. The idea of living such an exposed life didn’t sit well with her.
‘You must hate that.’
He considered that for a moment. ‘I don’t particularly enjoy it.’
They weaved through a narrow street with cobbles underfoot and as they walked Thanos reached down and took Alice’s hand in his and she didn’t even question it. The intimacy felt normal. She liked the way it felt to hold his hand, their fingers weaved together, his thumb lightly stroking the back of her hand.
Alice couldn’t take her eyes off the streetscape. It was everything Signora Verde had described, and more. The residents were vivid in her imagination and the reality was just like it. The smells, the sounds, the tiny little boutiques—clothing shops, book stores, restaurants, cafes, it was all so quintessentially Italian, she felt as if she’d stepped onto the set of a movie.
‘Here.’ Thanos slowed as they approached a pair of ancient timber doors nestled at the base of a stone building. Alice paused, looking up, running her eyes over the place.
The sign above the door read Ristorante Vecchio Città.
‘Old City Restaurant?’
Thanos grinned. ‘You’re fluent already.’
Alice laughed. ‘Barely. I’ve got a long way to go.’
‘Do you take lessons?’
‘No, I couldn’t afford that, and I don’t have the time.’ She didn’t see the way Thanos’s expression darkened. ‘I use free apps. They’re good. They keep me distracted on the subway.’
He guided her towards the doors, which, on their approach, were opened inwards by an older man with silver-grey hair and dark black eyes. He was tall and wiry and wore a black apron with white stripes over a crisp white shirt and black pants.
‘Signor.’ He nodded curtly, gesturing into the restaurant. ‘Welcome.’
‘Thank you. We’d like a table for two. Something with a view.’
‘Of course.’ The waiter nodded and his eyes seemed to linger on Thanos for a few seconds—moments in which Alice surmised he recognised the billionaire tycoon, because within seconds the best table in the restaurant was made available and a bottle of champagne brought over, compliments of the house.
Alice took the seat offered, so distracted by the view that for a moment she said nothing. From the street it had been impossible to identify this building’s location but she saw now it was right on the edge of one of the three rivers that ran through the heart of this town. A little way down there was what looked to be a medieval bridge, like a miniature version of the Ponte Vecchio, with shops built along either side of it and fairy lights strung across the roof.
The water ran quickly and children were sitting at its edge, one holding a fishing line, the other reading a book. In the distance, a family sat on a blanket, drinking wine and eating sandwiches.
It was idyllic and breathtaking.
The champagne was poured and they were left in peace with a menu that was all in Italian.
‘What do you feel like eating?’ Thanos asked.
She scanned the menu, picking out the words she could recognise.
‘What do you think looks good?’
‘Would you like me to translate?’
She nodded. ‘I can read some of it.’
‘Show me what you recognise.’
She lifted her eyes to his, a hint of embarrassment in her expression. ‘Really only the simple ones. Bread, chicken, ham, pizza, pasta.’
‘That’s half the menu,’ he pointed out with a grin.
Emboldened, she focussed her gaze on the words and slowed it down. ‘Carne...meat...with green beans. Potatoes.’
‘Perfetto,’ he complimented.
Her heart warmed. ‘Truffle fettucine.’
‘You know more than you think.’
Pride swelled inside her. ‘Thank you.’
‘Piacere.’
The waiter returned. ‘My wife will order,’ Thanos said with an encouraging nod of his head.
‘What would you like?’ she whispered.
He reached across and pointed to the steak on the menu.
Alice, in halting Italian, with the server waiting patiently, listed a few dishes. The waiter asked questions, speaking slowly, and Alice gave the full force of her concentration to him, so she didn’t see the way Thanos was regarding her, his expression a mix of admiration and pleasure.
When the ordering was done, and the waiter had disappeared, Alice’s cheeks were glowing pink with happiness.
‘Wow. I think he actually understood me.’
Thanos nodded. ‘You spoke well, and have a good accent.’
More pleasure. ‘I’m not sure about that. But it’s my first time attempting to use my Italian with a native speaker.’
‘I think if you spent more time here, you’d be fluent in no time.’
‘Maybe.’ She sipped her champagne, the bubbles popping against the sides of her mouth. ‘How many languages do you speak?’
He considered that a moment. ‘Greek, English and Italian fluently, passable French and German, conversational Spanish and Cantonese.’
Alice’s jaw dropped. ‘Whoa.’
‘Whoa?’
‘Yeah. How did you learn? I’m struggling just to become passably good at Italian.’
He shrugged. ‘I had the advantage of travelling, often, living in many of these places. And our piano teacher was Chinese—an exceptional musician with barely any English, so we learned how to speak casually with her.’
‘I’m impressed.’
‘Languages are just communication, and communication is inherent to all people.’
She sipped her champagne,
considering that. ‘It must make your business easier, that you can communicate all over the world.’
He dipped his head in silent concession.
He was an incredibly intelligent man, focussed, dedicated, successful. That took a fire and aptitude that was incredibly rare. Yet he was renowned for being a playboy, a party animal, someone who was more comfortable with a glass of Scotch in his hand than a billion-dollar business deal in his grip.
Alice ran her fingertip around the rim of her champagne glass, lost in thought, and a moment later, the waiter appeared with plates of food.
‘I got it right,’ she joked, as exactly what she’d ordered appeared. ‘I was half worried ox tongue might appear.’
Thanos’s wink was purely friendly, but it fired desire deep in her gut, and suddenly she didn’t particularly feel like eating, she wanted to be alone with him, somewhere with a bed and a lockable door.
The food was sublime. Traditional Italian, rustic, fresh, flavoursome, and Alice found herself wishing she hadn’t lost contact with Signora Verde, so she could tell her that she’d been here, that she’d eaten on the edge of one of the rivers that wended its way through Trefiumi Nord.
‘When you are distracted, you get a lovely little line right here,’ he murmured, reaching across the table and running a finger between her eyebrows.
Alice made an effort to straighten her face. ‘I’m not distracted.’
‘No?’
She pulled a face, her heart pulling as though caught on the end of a fishing line when she contemplated how well he suddenly knew her. ‘It’s just...’
‘Yes?’ he prompted, when her words trailed off into nothingness.
‘You’re not at all like what I would have thought.’
He set his fork down, leaning back in his chair, carefully watchful. ‘No?’
She shook her head. ‘You have this reputation as the playboy prince of Europe.’
He shrugged and she knew she wasn’t imagining a defensive tightening of his features. ‘Apparently.’
‘But you’re not... I don’t know. I can’t really see that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, you’re fiercely focussed, for one.’
Bride Behind The Billion-Dollar Veil (Crazy Rich Greek Weddings Book 2) Page 11
