‘Sofia, this grappatino is sublime,’ said a large elderly woman in a flamboyant diamante encrusted mask as they hurried by.
‘Grazie,’ Sofia said over her shoulder, quickening her step to keep up with Roberto’s urgent pace.
‘Almost there.’ Roberto strode across the less crowded pink-hued comfort of the Salotto Rosa to the ornate double doors of the grand Sala degli Specchi, Hall of Mirrors.
Pushing open the doors, Roberto stood aside motioning for Sofia to enter the extravagant ballroom.
‘Wow,’ she whispered as she stepped into the lavish space bathed in the golden light of a magnificent crystal chandelier, its sparkling lights reflected a million times over in the huge gilt-framed mirrors spanning the walls.
Several waiters were setting up trays and glasses on a banquet table under a scarlet-draped window at the far end of the room. A young couple dressed as Romeo and Juliet rehearsed scales as they perched on one of the red satin side sofas.
‘Signor Conti.’ One of the waiters looked up. ‘Can I help you with something?’
‘Privacy, per favore,’ Roberto said drawing Sofia by her waist to his side. He gritted his teeth as her petite frame stiffened at his touch.
‘Of course.’ The waiter clicked his fingers and ushered his staff and the actors out of the ballroom, closing the double doors behind them, muting the clamour of festivities in the palazzo’s other rooms.
‘How compliant of the them.’ Sofia wriggled out of Roberto’s hold. ‘Anyone would think you were in charge of the event. Or that your uncle is one of the festival’s producers.’
‘Vittorio told you.’
‘Why didn’t you?’ She shook her head at him, her eyes wide with disbelief.
‘I didn’t think it mattered. At the beginning this was a business arrangement. My uncle handles much of my business.’
‘At the beginning? What is it now?’ She raised her chin at him defensively but her shaking voice was so vulnerable Roberto cursed Vittorio again.
‘Nothing could have prepared me for how I feel about you.’ Roberto stepped towards her but she cautiously edged back against the mirrored wall.
‘You don’t have to say that. I’ll make sure you don’t look like the bad guy when all this is over. And we’ve got what we wanted. My grappatino is a success and I saw your chocolate, it looks amazing.’
‘Is that all you want?’ Roberto closed the distance between them, his arms aching to pull her into his embrace as he stood in front of her. ‘Just business?’
Sofia leant against the mirror her chest visibly lifting with each breath. ‘Uh huh.’ She nodded but as she looked up at him through her glittering mask, her gaze longingly held his, betraying her assertion.
Emboldened by the desire in her eyes, Roberto inched closer. ‘That’s not what I want,’ he whispered, her enticing floral scent drawing him down so his mouth was almost touching hers.
‘I don’t want a fling Roberto.’ Her sweet breath teased his lips.
‘Neither do I.’ He reached for her hands by her sides, interlacing his fingers with hers.
‘What do you want?’
‘You.’ He kissed her lips gently and drew back to look in her tender hazel eyes. ‘All of you.’ He pulled her hands up against his chest certain she’d feel his thumping heartbeat.
‘What about your mother? Vittorio said she can’t bear to see us together.’
‘Vittorio has his own demons. He saw what my father’s affair did to my mother. And to me. I’ll talk to them, I’ll make them understand.’
After tonight there’d be no going back, all would be revealed. Roberto had no idea what to expect from his uncle or his mother. Or Sofia when he finally told her the truth. But he was certain of one thing: he’d risk everything for her. To protect her. To have her in his life.
‘What will you tell them?’
‘That I don’t want this to end. And I think you feel the same. Am I right, amore?’
Sofia closed her eyes. Her breasts heaving against their clasped hands stoked the burning heat spiralling through Roberto’s body.
‘Yes,’ she whispered.
Roberto seized her luscious lips. Her tongue sensually engaged his with unbridled passion. He urgently grasped her wrists holding them either side of her shoulders against the mirrored wall as he pressed into her, intensifying their kiss.
She moaned as her hardened nipples pushed against the fine silk of her gown, fuelling his springing erection. He longed to hoist her around his hips, plunge into her and drive them to rampant oblivion. He dropped Sofia’s wrists, possessing her breast with one hand while the other slipped through the daring split of her dress. He groaned as his eager fingers discovered the satiny smooth skin of her naked behind.
‘No underwear?’ he said huskily through their melded lips as his cock pounded against the tight confines of his tuxedo pants.
‘Not with this dress.’ Sofia’s giggling voice quickly yielded to a gleeful gasp as Roberto spun her around and locked eyes with hers in the mirror.
He held her reflected gaze as his fingers skimmed up her thigh, finding the split in her dress again, and slowly enticed her swollen clit. Her eyelids drooped, her glazed stare struggling to hold his as he increased the intensity of his rhythmic caress, drawing her firmly back against his thrumming crotch as his fingers slid deliciously inside her slick warmth.
‘Wait,’ she panted, her eyes flicking open as she clutched his hand still.
‘Are you okay?’ Roberto froze, afraid he might have hurt her.
‘I think someone’s coming.’
Roberto glanced at the closed doors for a sign of movement. A mumble of voices and faint clinking of glasses faded into silence.
‘It’s hot, don’t you think?’ He burrowed into her nape as she slackened her grasp on his wrist. ‘The thrill of getting caught.’ He reached for her hand, raising her arm above her head and holding it against the mirror as he kissed the sensitive skin at the base of her neck. ‘But the only person coming amore, is you.’
‘Did you actually just say that?’ She laughed but her amusement vanished as Roberto’s fingers worked their magic again.
She collapsed forward on the mirror, her heavy breath fogging up its shiny surface. Roberto possessed her wet bud with his palm as his fingers glided deeper inside her, teasing her innermost hot spot with every thrust of her wanton hips.
Oh Dio how he yearned to release his granite erection and revel in her clenched warmth. But watching their reflected passion, Sofia writhing urgently into his touch, on the brink of euphoric free-fall was too exhilarating to stop. Giving her pleasure was more satisfying than anything Roberto could ever imagine.
* * *
Sofia tingled with secret gratification remembering Roberto’s intoxicating touch deep inside her only moments before the crowd had swarmed into the Hall of Mirrors. Adrenaline continued to pump through her as the gala guests watched a lively musical re-enactment of Romeo and Juliet’s famous balcony scene under the central chandelier. Each entranced face oblivious to the ecstasy Sofia had just enjoyed in this very room.
My feelings for you are real. Roberto’s words sang in her mind, eclipsing any doubts as pure elation filled every part of her. The sublime joy of his declaration combined with his passionate touch was more exhilarating than anything Sofia had experienced before.
‘What are you smiling at?’ Roberto asked quietly as he handed her a glass of champagne.
‘Was I smiling?’ She was, from ear to ear. She couldn’t stop.
‘Si. Like a, what’s it called... cheshire cat?’
‘Very good.’
‘Smarty pants, no?’
‘You dork,’ Sofia laughed at him.
‘Hey, I know what that means,’ he said in mock offence before grinning, the picture perfect smile that once infuriated Sofia now warming her heart. ‘Salute,’ he said, raising his glass.
‘Cheers.’ Sofia sipped the sparkling wine, its effervescent bubbles immediately enl
ivening her mouth. Her anosmia hadn’t stolen her love of the decadent sensation of drinking champagne.
Roberto draped his arm around her shoulder and Sofia snuggled into his side. This was real. Their feelings for each other were real.
‘I don’t think we’re needed here anymore,’ Roberto whispered in her ear.
‘What do you have in mind?’ She gazed innocently at the performance in front of them while her mind roused with dirty thoughts.
‘Somewhere we won’t be interrupted.’
‘I thought you liked the thrill of getting caught.’
‘For sure.’ He leant closer to her ear. ‘But I want to take my time with you. Without distraction.’
Sofia’s eyes darted up at Roberto’s. Animalistic need gleamed at her through his black mask, fanning the heat already raging inside her.
‘I like the sound of that,’ she purred. They held each other’s gaze, carnal intent pulsing between them as the packed room focused on Juliet singing a proclamation of love to Romeo.
‘Let’s get out of here.’ Roberto took her glass and placed it on a passing tray.
She nestled into his side as they began to tunnel their way through the crowd.
‘Roberto, Sofia, at last.’ Fabrizio popped up in front of them and wrapped his arms around them both, careful not to spill his full glass of champagne.
‘I’m so happy to see you together. You know,’ he dropped his voice, slurring slightly. ‘I’ve seen plenty of sham celebrity hook-ups in my time. To be honest when I heard you two were in love I said to myself, here we go again. But you surprised me, no?’ He raised his eyebrows at them knowingly.
Sofia caught Roberto’s eye and had to look away to stop herself bursting with laughter.
‘I can’t wait to show you off in the flower festival parade. Like Oberon and Titania. My fairy lovers, no?’
‘Excuse me?’ Roberto’s attention snapped from Sofia to Fabrizio. ‘What was that about fairies?’
‘The vision for my float this year is inspired by A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’
‘Si, certo. But no elaborate costume for me, right Fabrizio? No gold leaf and G-string.’
Fabrizio snorted delightedly at the reference. ‘Of course not, bello. We’ve already done that. I’m thinking just a little... je ne se quoi. You’ll be the stars of my float after all.’
‘What exactly are you thinking we’ll be—’
‘Don’t worry Fabrizio, we’re looking forward to it.’ Sofia interrupted. ‘But we’re actually just leaving, right Roberto?’
‘Si,’ he said catching the suggestive glimmer in her eyes. ‘Please, excuse us.’ Roberto smiled at Fabrizio as he tightened his hold around Sofia’s shoulder.
‘Certo. Enjoy your night ragazzi.’ Fabrizio raised his glass before taking a swig of his champagne and shimmying back into the crowd.
‘Let’s go.’ Roberto steered them towards the exit of the grand salon.
As they gradually inched through the sea of merry faces, Sofia did a double take at an elegant woman in a floor-length black velvet gown as she entered from an adjacent room a few metres away. Fresh flowers adorned her striking gold mask. White gardenias highlighted with an unusual spotted vermillion bloom. Sofia recognised it at once. The ornella flower.
She strained for a clearer look as she tried to keep up with Roberto driving them through the crowd. Despite the distance Sofia was certain it was the ornella flower. A spark of hope stirred her mind. Was there another source for the nectar? Could Sofia make her mother’s cioccolatino after all?
The woman’s tight lips transformed into a weak smile as she seemed to recognise a familiar face and lifted her hand in tentative wave. Sofia followed her line of sight to an imposing grey-haired man wearing a Phantom of the Opera mask.
‘Roberto, wait.’ Sofia squeezed her arm around his waist as she watched Vittorio embracing the woman wearing her precious ornella flower.
Roberto glanced down at her. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Over there. Who’s that woman with Vittorio?’
Roberto paused to look in the direction of Sofia’s gaze. She looked back up at him, noticing a ripple of muscles contracting in his clenched jaw as he absorbed the scene. His eyes flicked towards the exit then back at the woman as though uncertain of which direction to head in.
‘Come,’ he said abruptly, pulling Sofia away from Vittorio and his mysterious friend.
‘What is it? Who is she?’ Sofia asked as he lead them towards the ballroom’s double doors.
‘My mother,’ he said.
Chapter 8
‘Your mother?’ Sofia’s face clouded with confusion, her wary eyes imploring Roberto for an explanation.
‘Si.’ He paced around the quiet hall, his mind racing in every direction. ‘I had no idea she was planning to come tonight.’
Roberto fought the impulse to rush back into the Hall of Mirrors and speak to his mother. It was her first public appearance since Matteo’s death; the significance of her presence at the gala was huge. For the company and for him.
When he’d seen his mother smiling with Vittorio, his heart leapt thinking he was being celebrated not only as a master chocolatier and a loving partner but also as a worthy son. For the briefest moment, his greatest fantasy had become a reality too good to be true. And so it was.
Roberto’s elation died as quickly as it had dared to rise when he’d seen the ornella flower on his mother’s mask, a brutal reminder of his betrayal of Sofia. Like a loose thread waiting to be pulled and unravel all his deceit. All his hope.
‘Roberto?’ Sofia’s voice quavered as though she already knew he’d deceived her. ‘The red flowers on your mother’s mask. Where did she get them?’
Vittorio must have given the mask to Lucia, he seemed determined to sabotage Roberto’s relationship with Sofia. But did his mother understand the significance of what she was wearing? The familiar pang of doubt twisted in Roberto’s stomach. Had she come tonight to condemn his relationship? Or to celebrate his work? He had to talk to her.
But if he had any hope of redeeming himself to Sofia, he had to tell her the truth before Vittorio did.
‘Please, let’s go.’ He reached for her hand but she didn’t move.
Roberto jumped as the doors to the ballroom swung open behind him, the noise of the festivities inside spilling into the quiet foyer. A young man and woman stumbled out, leaning on each other for support, their champagne spilling from their glasses.
‘Auguri, auguri,’ they slurred their congratulations to Sofia and Roberto as they staggered towards the stairway leading out of the palazzo.
Sofia’s stare remained fixed on Roberto as the couple’s laughter disappeared down the stairs.
‘We need to talk.’ Roberto untied his mask. ‘But not here, we’ll be interrupted.’
‘I’m not leaving until you answer me.’ Sofia lifted her chin defiantly.
Roberto nodded, his chest thumping as he scanned the space, desperate to get away from the ballroom and the risk of his uncle finding them.
‘Through there, it’ll be quieter.’ He gestured to an adjoining room curtained off from the thoroughfare.
Thankfully Sofia bowed her head in acquiescence and strode past Roberto through the golden-draped doorway into a private side hall. But as he followed her, Roberto’s pounding heartbeat wouldn’t relent, fearing this would be last time she’d ever agree to be alone with him.
* * *
Sofia’s stomach churned with a sickening combination of a frantic need to know the truth and a longing to remain in blissful ignorance where she’d finally had it all. But they’d come too far; she couldn’t pretend anymore.
Carefully untying her mask as she crossed the carpeted hall, Sofia prayed Roberto’s explanation would dispel her rising fear. The cleared space was arranged as a storage area. Four long trestle tables lined the walls, each laden with chocolates of the gala’s featured chocolatiers.
Sofia’s eyes rested for a moment on the Bonap
arte’s table in front of her as she put down her mask. Not even the sight of her grappatino, her greatest success, could assuage the dread that Roberto was hiding something from her.
‘So tell me?’ She whipped around to face him, desperate to end her torment. A quick, sharp pain, like ripping off a Band-Aid. ‘Where did your mother get the flowers?’
Roberto stared at the floor, raking his hands through his hair as he approached her. Sofia kept her eyes on him as she shifted sideways out of his path, not trusting herself to be within reach of his embrace.
His gaze darted to hers as though suddenly aware of her need for distance between them. He stopped in the middle of the room, his posture slackening with resignation.
‘Villa Castello,’ he said.
‘That’s impossible.’ Sofia shook her head and turned to balanced against the table beside her. ‘They told me they were out of stock. How—’ she paused, distracted by a Conti sign on a tray near her hand.
‘What are these?’ She pointed to the artfully arranged chocolates, each decorated with floral images in bright rainbow colours on a two-toned rectangular base of dark and milk chocolate.
‘My cioccolato, you said you saw them.’
‘These are different.’
‘What do you mean?’ Roberto strode to the table and stood next to her.
‘The ones Vittorio had were small, dark squares, all decorated with a red floral motif.’ As vibrant as the blood-red petals of an ornella flower.
A wave of vertigo swept through Sofia, her gut hammering with the ache of realisation. ‘It was you?’ Her eyes flicked from the bright chocolates to Roberto. ‘I couldn’t get the ornella nectar... because of you?’
Roberto’s eyes flashed with pain. And guilt. ‘It’s not what you think.’
‘I think you stole my recipe for Conti.’ Air rushed from Sofia’s lungs as she struggled to breathe, barely able to comprehend her own words.
How on earth had she convinced herself Roberto was different from his father and Marco? A surge of heat fuelled her blood, humiliation inflaming her insides. She’d been stupid to think a Conti would never hurt her like that; seduce her for her recipes and then... abandon her, like she meant nothing.
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