‘The recipes are in your blood. You already know the flavour combinations that work. You just need to look at your ingredients from another perspective. Your perspective.’
‘What about our fan club out the front? The paparazzi are following our every move.’
‘We won’t even have to leave the hotel.’
Sofia glanced over her shoulder at the small kitchen. ‘I don’t think an electric kettle and minibar are going to cut it Roberto.’
‘Leave that to me.’
‘You really think this is a good idea?’
‘Millions of people have anosmia. I’m surprised you’ve waited this long. Try and see your condition as a strength not a weakness.’
‘Let’s not get carried away.’ She smiled at him.
‘And don’t worry about San Remo, I’ll be your partner at the festival. Fabrizio won’t be able to resist the publicity, his chocolate lovers, no? You’ll be able to promote whatever chocolate you want.’
‘Our contract will be over by then, we won’t be a couple anymore.’
‘I don’t need a contract to stand by your side Sofia.’
She stared at him in wonder, the anxiety in her eyes slowly dissolving into hope. ‘There’ll be costumes involved and a live audience, not just Fabrizio’s camera in a private studio.’
‘As long as I don’t have to sing, I’ll survive.’
‘This is Fabrizio we’re talking about, I can’t promise anything.’ She tried for a laugh.
‘I want to help you Sofia,’ Roberto said solemnly. ‘Make your chocolate.’
Her teasing smile faded into acquiescence as she absorbed his words. ‘Okay.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve got nothing to lose.’
‘Brava.’ Roberto smiled as he leant forward and pushed the steaming teacup towards her. ‘Drink your tea, think of what ingredients you’ll need. And I’ll find a blindfold.’
‘It’s okay,’ she laughed picking up the cup. ‘You won’t need a blindfold this time.’
‘No.’ He grinned. ‘But you will.’
Chapter 6
‘Exactly how much do I owe you for securing the hotel’s kitchen for our personal use?’ Sofia arched an eyebrow at Roberto as she laid out the ingredients for her ganache filling on the gleaming stainless steel counter. She couldn’t believe he’d managed to book the immaculate industrial kitchen for the afternoon.
The pounding anxiety that had consumed her since she’d received the shocking message from Villa Castello had slowly subsided as adrenaline kicked in. For the first time she was letting her anosmia guide her, not hold her back. And in just two hours she’d devised a recipe to replace her cioccolatino fiori, sourced the ingredients and completed the first two elements of her new chocolate.
‘It didn’t cost anything,’ Roberto said matter-of-factly from the opposite side of the bench as he pulled out bowls and equipment for the next stage of her recipe. ‘The owner gave me a freebie.’
‘A freebie?’
‘Did I get it wrong? That’s what you say, no?’
‘Yes but—’
‘I’m the hotel’s best customer Sofia. I get what I ask for.’
‘I bet you do.’
Roberto laughed. ‘Not always, but today, yes. Lucky for you.’
‘I guess I’m not used to freebies. Or good luck.’
‘You deserve it Sofia. You have everything you need here, we’ll perfect some samples and get them to Bonaparte’s by tomorrow, yes?’
‘Yes.’ A sudden burst of fire propelled her back to the task at hand. Sofia looked over the items on the bench in front of her, waiting to be transformed into a winning combination that would blow the mind of the toughest critic.
‘Where’s the couverture?’ Sofia’s pulse quickened as she scanned the kitchen for the main ingredient for her ganache.
‘I thought you’d never ask.’ She flicked her attention to Roberto, his eyes glimmering at her. ‘I have a surprise for you.’
‘I can’t handle any more surprises.’
‘Don’t worry, this one you’ll like.’ He reached under the bench and lifted a large cardboard box onto the countertop. He slit open the top flaps with a knife and carefully unfolded the plastic packaging inside. ‘Try this.’ He offered Sofia a small disc of dark couverture chocolate.
The tension in Sofia’s muscles softened as she admired the intense dark pigment of the chocolate button. She closed her eyes and placed it on her tongue, relishing its velvety creaminess as it gradually melted.
‘What do you think?’
‘I’m getting a faint bittersweet flavour. But the texture, it’s so smooth... it’s incredible.’
‘Si, it’s unlike any other chocolate. It’s made from a rare Peruvian cacao bean. Its flavour is very concentrated compared with other varieties.’
‘It’s so luscious, like liquid silk.’ Sofia rolled her tongue to absorb the last of the chocolate and opened her eyes, fully awakened by the intensity of the rich cacao. ‘It’ll contrast perfectly with the crunch of the praline.’
‘Si,’ Roberto said excitedly as he poured the chocolate buttons into a stainless steel bowl. ‘And its delicate floral accent will complement the toffee nicely.’
‘The texture’s amazing, I can only imagine how complex the flavour is. Where’d you get it?’
‘I made it,’ Roberto said as he busied himself packing away the cardboard box. ‘It’s new so it hasn’t been used by anyone else yet.’
Sofia understood the time, skill and expense involved in creating such an original high-end product. A magical ingredient that could elevate ordinary chocolate to culinary ecstasy.
‘I can’t accept it, it’s too much,’ she said reluctantly. ‘It’s yours Roberto, you should use it.’
‘I don’t need it.’ He pushed the bowl of buttons towards her. ‘I want you to have it Sofia, I want you to create your best work.’
‘So you can compete against the best?’
‘What?’ Confusion flashed across Roberto’s face.
‘Isn’t that what you said in Baraldo? You want me to create my best work so you’ll be satisfied beating the best?’
‘Did I say that?’ He feigned surprise.
‘Yep.’
‘Doesn’t sound like me. A bit arrogant, no?’
‘I thought so,’ she teased.
‘Please accept it.’ Roberto’s smile dissolved as he looked at her seriously. ‘When you explained your recipe to me I knew at once the profile of this couverture would be the perfect match. Now, I can’t imagine using it for anything else. In my mind, it’s already yours.’
‘Are you sure?’ A flicker of excitement shot through Sofia. Roberto’s sublime couverture would give her chocolate a winning dimension she hadn’t anticipated.
‘Absolutely.’ The shining sincerity in his eyes alleviated Sofia’s hesitation.
She nodded acceptance, unable to verbalise her immense gratitude. It was beyond generous for Roberto to give her his custom-made couverture. She picked up the bowl and placed it beside the stove behind her.
She poured cream into a heavy based saucepan, trying to focus on her recipe, not her rolling stomach as she sensed Roberto’s eyes on her back.
Their physical chemistry had been blatant from the moment they’d met. But after Roberto’s thoughtful generosity, she dared to think his feelings for her were more than skin-deep.
‘You can prepare the praline,’ she ordered over her shoulder, eager to occupy his attention with something other than her.
‘Yes chef.’ He reached for the container of salted praline they’d made earlier. ‘What are you using for heat in the filling? Chilli?’
Sofia reached under the counter and flashed a bottle at him. ‘Grappa.’ She couldn’t help grinning.
‘Perfecto,’ Roberto laughed. ‘I better not leave you alone with it.’ He raised his eyebrows, his dark eyes gleaming at her.
‘Very funny.’ Heat rushed up Sofia’s neck and she quickly spun back to the stove. She stirred a sh
ot of the fiery liquor into the warm cream, relieved to be distracted from Roberto’s suggestive stare.
‘I didn’t know you made couverture,’ she said as she picked up the saucepan and slowly poured the grappa-infused cream over the dark chocolate buttons.
‘Si. It’s my specialty. I’ve been experimenting with varieties of cacao beans for years.’
‘You have complete control of every aspect of Conti’s chocolate. Why am I not surprised?’
‘Not complete control. Conti’s recipes are my father’s and after he passed our master chocolatiers took over.’ Roberto focused on breaking chunks of praline into a stone mortar. ‘I just make the couverture. And run the business of course.’
‘How come you don’t write recipes?’ Sofia looked over at him but his attention was absorbed in the praline.
‘My palate is my gift, not my creativity.’ He glanced up at her.
‘I don’t believe that. I could barely taste your couverture but I know it’s unlike anything I’ve tried before. And I’m not just talking about its incredible texture. I feel... awakened by it. I’m still buzzing. Are you sure it’s even legal?’
‘Of course it’s legal,’ Roberto laughed. ‘The beans are very rare. They were only recently discovered from trees that haven’t been touched for hundreds of years. They have a mellow richness that intensifies the euphoric feeling you get even from the most expensive cacao beans.’
‘Wow. How would the rest of Conti feel, knowing you’ve given your couverture to me?’
‘It’s my decision and I want you to have it.’
‘You should make your own recipes. Surely you’ve wanted to?’ Sofia picked up the bowl of emulsified chocolate and cream and stood opposite Roberto at the counter as she stirred the ingredients into a silken ganache. He was so engrossed in pounding the praline he hadn’t seemed to hear her. ‘Roberto?’
‘I did once. Before my brother died.’ He put down the pestle and carefully transferred the toffee crumb from the mortar into a stainless steel bowl. ‘But when my father sent me to Lyon I decided to study cacao and develop my palate.’
‘How old were you?’
‘Fourteen.’ A muscle twitched in Roberto’s jaw as he snapped off more praline into the mortar.
‘That’s pretty young to leave your family.’
‘I can’t complain, I trained at Berouche, one of the best cioccolaterias in Europe.’
‘Not better than Conti.’
‘Conti wasn’t a choice.’
‘Why not?’ Sofia scooped a spoonful of the crushed praline and carefully folded it through the dark chocolate cream, the golden flecks shimmering like treasure.
‘After my mother left, my father was struggling to cope and I... I only caused more trouble.’
‘It must have been hard for you, becoming an only child.’ Sofia continued folding the ganache. ‘Being the one who survived.’ She glanced at him, sensing she was exploring unchartered territory.
Roberto’s eyes flicked to meet hers, his expression coloured with pained surprise.
‘Si,’ he said quietly returning his focus back to the praline. But he sat still, as though frozen in thought.
‘You must have been young when your brother died.’
‘Thirteen.’ Roberto sniffed, snapping out of his daze. He transferred the praline to the bowl. ‘Matteo was five years older. He was my parents’ golden child. But I was never jealous of him, I loved him that way too.’
‘I feel the same about my sister. My mother was always spoiling her, but I adored her just as much.’ Sofia’s heart ached for the young Roberto whose grief she couldn’t begin to fathom; its lasting affects etched into his face. When Sofia had first noticed the fine lines around his eyes she’d had no interest in knowing what had caused them. But now she longed to delve beneath Roberto’s hardened armour and understand the man she was falling for.
‘You said Matteo was a chocolatier too?’ She scooped more praline into the ganache.
‘Si, but his heart wasn’t in it. He wanted to be an artist. My parents had other ideas, they were training him to take over from my father.’
‘Did they know what Matteo wanted?’
‘When he told me his wished to be a professional painter I said not to worry; it was my dream to lead the family company,’ Roberto scoffed as he stared at the pestle, turning it in his hands as though mesmerised by its smooth form. ‘We created a chocolate together to present to our parents thinking they’d be reassured that I had the makings of a Conti successor. We foolishly thought we could both get what we wanted.’
‘Your parents didn’t agree?’
‘Maybe with time, they would have. But it was too late.’
* * *
Roberto put down the pestle and stared at specks of spilt praline on the shining bench, his heart racing as he remembered waiting anxiously outside his father’s kitchen, cradling the chocolate he’d made with Matteo.
Roberto had never confided in anyone about that day. But Sofia recognised the pain that had come to define him, the agony of being the child who’d lived. A constant reminder to his parents of what they’d lost. Knowing Roberto was the cause of their grief had been so painful they’d sent him away.
‘We spent weeks perfecting the chocolate.’ He glanced up, catching Sofia’s eye as she carefully spooned her ganache into a piping bag. ‘Matteo designed a motif for the inlaid decoration. We called the chocolate l’artista, the artist. Perfect for our collaboration, the painter and the chocolatier. I waited by the door while Matteo spoke to our parents first. I couldn’t hear them until my father started shouting. He was so enraged, he said I’d never have what it takes. I was a dreamer.’
‘You were just a boy.’ Sofia’s voice cracked. She put down her piping bag and pushed the bowl of ganache aside, giving him her full attention.
Roberto dropped his gaze, unable to face Sofia’s wide-eyed compassion and confess his guilt; the deep shame he kept hidden, silent and unrelenting. But if she knew something of his past she might understand the choices he’d made … even though he could barely comprehend them himself. He could never be the man Sofia deserved but the thought of her despising him was more than he could bear.
‘I was devastated.’ Roberto picked up a cloth to wipe the bench clean but he just stared at the checked fabric, twisting it in his hands. ‘I ran out into the street, desperate to outrun my father’s words. I could hear Matteo calling after me but I wouldn’t stop, I was so ashamed. Afraid of what my family thought of me. Fear driving me to run faster. And then a car—’ Roberto’s breath caught in his throat; the indescribable, heart wrenching sound of brakes ringing in his ears. A car screeching to a halt allowing just enough time for him to turn and see his brother collide with its windscreen and ricochet onto the asphalt. So effortless and absolute, as easily as a ball rebounding off a wall.
‘I ran to him. It sounds stupid but he looked so peaceful, spread out, like he was sleeping, no? For a moment I thought he was okay. But he wasn’t okay.’
Roberto closed his eyes as he’d done countless times to the image of blood slowly seeping from his brother’s lifeless body. A silent scream exploding in his head, desperate for release. As though his lungs had collapsed, incapable of even a whisper, he’d fallen to his knees and embraced his brother, the deafening scream pounding in his head, haunting him ever since.
‘He was in a coma for two days. I wasn’t allowed in his room but I watched my mother from the doorway curled beside him on the bed, her mouth gaping open but no sound coming out. Silently screaming at the loss of her child. I’d taken him from her.’
‘No Roberto,’ Sofia said urgently, leaning across the bench to clasp his hands in hers, prompting him to look at her. ‘It was an accident.’ Her sympathetic eyes, wet with tears, pleaded him to accept her words.
Roberto squeezed her tender hands and smiled at her weakly, wishing that was possible. ‘It wouldn’t have happened if I’d faced my father instead of running like a coward. I knew
that and so did he.’
‘Surely your father didn’t blame you.’
‘He tried not to show it but I’ll never forget the anger in his eyes the day Matteo died, questioning how I could be so reckless.’ After that day his father managed to camouflage his blame but also any other trace of emotion.
‘He was upset.’
‘Si. But I had to accept responsibility. After the accident I vowed to be the perfect son, my parents’ happiness was my only goal. I’ve always done anything for that.’
‘But no recipes?’
‘And remind them of the reason I ran that day and caused Matteo’s death? No. I trained in Lyon to perfect my technique and my palate so I could run the Conti kitchen beside my father and take over as CEO after he died.’
‘And the chocolate you made with Matteo?’
‘It died with him. My father couldn’t cope with his grief. He erased all memories of my brother, packed away his paintings, refused to make his recipes.’
‘And your mother?’
‘She withdrew from our lives and hers. She surrounded herself with Matteo’s paintings at the estate. She preferred to live in the past with his memory than in the present with us.’
‘Then why not make the l’artista for her?’
‘It would awaken the horror of the day Matteo died.’ Roberto was only just rebuilding his relationship with his mother after his debacle with Annabella. Making the l’artista could push her further away.
‘Or maybe it would awaken something else. Your brother’s hope, your shared dreams? A celebration of his life and yours. Remembering rather than fighting to forget. I feel closer to my mother when I’m making her chocolate; it keeps her memory alive. Even with anosmia I could never give that up. Use your recipe, Roberto. You want to free Conti from scandal? Make something with love. For your mother and yourself.’
Roberto stared at Sofia, her soulful eyes glistening at him, believing in him. His body flooded with longing to live up to her expectations. A swell of excitement dared to rise within him at the idea of realising the dream of his thirteen-year-old self, a suppressed desire that still burned deep inside.
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