Dirty Secrets

by Drummond, Lonaire

  “Un bello nome per una bella donna,” Felicità said. Adele blushed at her compliment. Adele thought Felicità was one of the most beautifully distinguished woman she had ever seen, besides her own mother.

  “Grazie mille. Si sente meglio?” Adele ask.

  The color rose in Felicità’s cheeks, a strong indication of her improving health, but Adele wanted to ask to make sure, also, she couldn’t believe she had successfully negotiated several conversations in Italian with this woman, never having thought she would have the opportunity to use the musical language outside of doing Mindy’s bidding.

  “Si, ho dimentico cose qualche volta,” Felicità said.

  “Ha l’alzheimer?” Adele asked.

  “Si. Ci diamo del tu. Siamo amiche adesso,” Felicità said while patting Adele on the back. Adele felt honored when Felicità wanted to abandon the formalities of the Italian language and speak as friends. The woman reminded Adele of her mother, but Italian style.

  “Va bene. Eccola,” Adele smiled agreeing to Felicita’s request.

  As they reached Felicità’s cottage, Adele opened the door with the key Celeste had given her. In light of the cottage’s ram-shackled appearance, its opulence shined through. The simplicity of the cottage is what first captivated Adele.

  A massive four poster canopy bed held court in the middle of the room with mosquito netting draped over it. Felicità’s clothes covered the majority of the white duvet. The contents of her overturned purse lay dead on the same hardwood chocolate floors gracing the reception area. Yellow Orchids in full bloom impregnated the room. Drawn to the vibrant flowers, Adele couldn’t help but to pick one up. She pressed it to her nose and inhaled when a handsome man entered the room after a series of sharp knocks.

  Chapter 8

  “Ho saputo della tua piccola avventura. Ho avevo paura per te, nonna,” he said. He had his black suit jacket over his right arm, a blue dress shirt hung unbuttoned revealing a small sample of chest hair and olive skin. Adele wondered how worried he could have actually been, considering he had left her alone. She couldn’t shake the feeling she knew him from somewhere, yet she couldn’t place him. He threaded his hands through his dark hair before he finally acknowledged Adele’s presence.

  You are the woman who rescued my grandmother?” He extended his hand towards Adele.

  “I am, and who are you?” Adele watched him lower his aqua eyes.

  She waited while he gave her the once-over, satisfied, his eye finally landed on hers. Scorched by his stare, she averted her eyes.

  “I’m her grandson, Ambrogio Argentero, and you didn’t answer my question,” he said.

  “The question you should ask yourself is why did I leave my grandmother in such a state in the first place?” Adele said, startled by her abruptness with this stranger. His hand still lingered in the air intent on finishing the handshake he started.

  “Si chiama Adele, lei era molto paziente con me,” Felicita said.

  “Beauty and brains, a dangerous combination,” he said.

  When Adele continued to deny him her hand, he grabbed it. The skin to skin contact ignited sparks throughout her body. It was just a simple touch, platonic in nature and benign, yet the simple handshake made her wet. She had to do something to stop the quaking in her center.

  “You are very kind, but you did not answer my question. How could you leave your grandmother alone?” Adele pried her hand away, hoping he didn’t notice it tremble.

  “I hired a nurse, but she had to leave this morning,” he said.

  Her space bubble smashed into little bits on the floor, Adele flinched when he boldly encircled his arms around her shoulders. She attempts to shrug him loose in vain.

  Felicita smacked her grandson’s arm. “Lei puo sa parlare Italiano.”

  “Brava!” Ambrogio exclaimed.

  “I pretend well when it comes to speaking Italian. Don’t try to deflect the issue at hand. I still don’t understand what your grandmother was doing here all alone. She could have gotten hurt from the many hills and stairs on this property. You ought to be more careful,” she said.

  “Nonna, hai una guardia del corpo,” he said. His pink lips spread into a wide smile. If Adele wore pearls, she would have clutched them.

  “Smetti, Ambrogio,” Felicita swatted her grandson playfully on the arm.

  “I’m not her bodyguard. I have experience with these types of situations. My dad died from dementia,” Adele said.

  “Mi dispiace.” Ambrogio touched his heart.

  “Sono felice che tu ti senti meglio,” Adele said.

  She suddenly felt like an intruder. She didn’t want anyone’s pity. Adele needed to remove herself from the lives of these strangers and fast. She turned on her heals and left, ignoring pleas for her to stay.

  The fatigue from the flight and old reopened wounds surrounding her father’s death left Adele tired. She stripped off her jeans and t-shirt when she entered her room. She sought out the perfect place to wash away her troubles.

  After her quick shower, she collapsed into bed with Ambrogio, her sweet sticky forbidden fruit, on her mind. She knew she couldn’t have him, logically she shouldn’t want want him, but her sex ached for him all the same. Adele was in trouble. She vowed to avoid him at all costs. She would consume her days with all things touristy until her time in St. Lucia was over, then she would fly back to New York, never to lay eyes on him again.

  She dialed Robynne’s number and hoped for the best.

  “Robynne here, I’m not available to take your call, especially if your name is Adele and you went to St. Lucia without me.” Her suspicions confirmed, Adele succumbed to sleep with thoughts of Ambrogio’s sexy stubble dancing in her mind.

  Chapter 9

  Awakened by a knock at the door, a disorientated Adele couldn’t remember where she was. She kicked off the covers and attempted to get up only to received a face full of mosquito netting.

  “Who could be knocking at my door this early in the morning.” Adele projected her voice in the hopes her early morning caller would get the hint and leave.

  She stubbed her toe in her haste to get to the door. With sleep lines drawn in Adele’s face and sleep still in her eyes, she finally answered the door.

  “Good Morning Ms. Jaspers.” Celeste held a gorgeous bouquet of flowers.

  “Morning? Great. I slept through my first day in St. Lucia,” Adele said.

  “It’s called a vacation. You can celebrate it however you like,” Celeste said.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Mr. Argentero asked me to deliver these flowers personally.” Celeste pushed a vase into Adele’s face.

  “Wow; I’ve never received flowers before.”

  “Have a nice day, Ms. Jaspers.” Celeste hurried away.

  Adele pulled the card out of its hiding place and read it.

  Sarei onorato se vuoi fare la colazione con noi questa mattina. Ci incontriamo a Cotillard alle dieci.

  A presto

  Ambrogio.

  Adele did not want to eat breakfast with Ambrogio. Most of her food would end up in her lap, the floor, or anywhere else other than her mouth if she had to sit with him at the table. He was terrible for her nerves. Adele decided to decline this impromptu breakfast invitation. She felt bad about standing Felicità up, but she thought it was for the best considering the alternative.

  She showered, dressed and plotted out an escape route after realizing the restaurant, one of three on the property, stood between her and her freedom. Her mission commenced when she saw the open air restaurant in all its glory. Intent on sneaking by undetected, she began her trek down the stairs only to be caught in the silky web of Ambrogio’s voice.

  “Sneaking away without saying good morning?” Ambrogio asked.

  Adele missed a step, propelling herself forward at an odd angle, but was quickly righted by Ambrogio’s steel grip which helped her to regain her balance.

  “You can see the beach from here. I was just getting a c
loser look,” Adele said.

  “Interesting, but from my point of view, it looked as if you were running away.”

  “Are you calling me a liar.” She hoped he couldn’t see the puddle forming where she stood.

  “No, I’m calling you a chicken.”

  “I’m not a chicken. I’m not scared of anything,” she said.

  “Then have breakfast with us.”

  “If you insist.”

  “I do,” he said.

  “Do you always have to have the last word.”

  “Not when I hear words like faster, don’t stop or more. Those words require action,” he said.

  “You win.” Adele couldn’t believe how turned on she was.

  “Come.” Ambrogio took her her arm.

  “I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  “Nonna, guarda chi ho trovato.” Ambrogio said.

  “Sono felice di verderti.” Felicità rose from the table to engulfed Adele in a hug.

  She then planted a kiss on both Adele’s cheeks. Adele secretly hoped she wouldn’t die of an affection overdose. Despite her misgivings about Ambrogio, Adele was just as excited to see Felicità.

  “Buon giorno. Come stai?” Adele asked.

  “Cosi, Cosi. E tu?” Felicità answered.

  “Ho dormito il tutto giorno ieri,” she admitted.

  “È normale. Eri stanca dalla tuo viaggio,” Felicità said.

  Ambrogio helped his grandmother return to her seat before pulling the chair out for Adele as well. After telling the Argentero’s about her day of slumber, she perused the menu.

  “Are you hungry?” Ambrogio asked.

  “I’m starving,” Adele’s stomach growled in agreement.

  Ambrogio gave Adele menu suggestions from the Death by Chocolate menu and the regular menu. Adele opted for a fruit salad and a spinach omelet. Ambrogio and Felicità, both light breakfast eaters, ordered some pastries and cappuccinos. They passed the time with talk of the weather, St. Lucia’s beauty and through it all; Adele managed to keep her food in her mouth.

  “Dove il bagno?” Felicità rose out of her chair. Adele saw Felicità’s glassy-eyed stare from yesterday return. She moved to join her new friend in the bathroom when Felicità stopped her.

  “Rimani qui.” Felicità left the table.

  “You’ve been relieved of your duties,” Ambrogio said.

  “I’m not her bodyguard. I’m just concerned about her.”

  “Because of your father?”

  “Yes, things can turn badly in an instant. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her.”

  “She speaks highly of you too. She’s always been a good judge of character.”

  His words were like strawberries dipped in chocolate. Sometimes, it took a while for them to leave his mouth, but when they did, a vowel went along for the ride, hanging on to the end of his sentences. Adele was jealous of those words. They resided if only momentarily, in his well-shaped mouth. Adele wanted to climb in, curl up and make herself at home in his mouth. She even loved the way he pouted when he couldn’t remember a word in English.

  “Why are you so cute?” She had said the word out loud and her face burned with embarrassment instantly.

  “You think I’m cute?”

  “Get over yourself.”

  “I rather be over you.” Ambrogio moved close enough so she could feel the heat from his mouth on her lips.

  “What are you doing?”

  He stared her down but said nothing. In the next breath, he grabbed her face, held it steady and licked her just a bit shy of her lips.

  “You taste better than I could have imagined.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” Her hand touched the spot where his tongue marked her.

  “You had some whipped cream from your chocolate cappuccino there. I never let anything go to waste.”

  Adele shifted in her seat. The moisture in her panties made it uncomfortable for her to sit. Before he assaulted her senses again, Adele did what she does best—she changed the subject.

  “Your grandmother is taking a long time in the bathroom.”

  “Shit! You’re right.” The alarm in his face started as a spark then grew into a four-alarm fire in a matter of seconds.

  Adele followed Ambrogio as he sprinted from the table. “You can’t go into the woman’s bathroom.”

  “Can you go, please?” He had a vulnerability about him Adele found endearing.

  “Of course.” Sure enough, Adele found Felicità in the powder room staring at herself in the mirror. She stayed perfectly still when Adele called her name. Adele reassured an uneasy Ambrogio before she approached the sick woman.

  “Sono vecchia. Quando sono diventata vecchia?” Felicità asked.

  “Non sei vecchia. Sei molta bella.” When her attempt at comforting Felicità failed, she led her out of the bathroom and into the arms of Ambrogio.

  “She thinks she’s old. She was examining her face in the bathroom mirror.”

  “Voglio ritonare a letto, Ambrogio,” Felicità said.

  He dropped a tender kiss on her forehead and walked them out of the restaurant. Ambrogio deposited his grandmother in her room as she requested with strict instructions for her nurse to watch her at all times.

  “Thanks for breakfast.” Adele started to walk away when Ambrogio grabbed her arm.

  “Do you need something?” She immediately regretted her words when his light green eyes turned a dark emerald shade.

  “I want you.”

  “Come again?”

  “I want you to come with me.”

  “I don’t want to go anywhere with you,” she said with so much force, he stepped back and out of the way of her ire.

  “Why are you so combative?”

  “I’m not combative.” She knew otherwise, but she wasn’t about to admit her faults to him.

  “Then come with me. I planned a tour of the island. Of course, nonna cannot come.”

  “How presumptuous of you, I might have plans.”

  “What do you have planned?”

  “Not at this moment, but you can’t just assume…”

  “The problem with Americans is you talk too much.” He bent down at her waist and hoisted her over his shoulder, fireman style.

  Aghast at his behavior, Adele screamed and flailed her arms to no avail. Her breasts squeezed out of her white halter top. She held onto the back of her white and blue stripped skirt with one hand and tried to prevent a nipple slip with the other.

  “Put me down. What’s wrong with you,” she yelled.

  A plump grounds keeper stopped to observe the spectacle Ambrogio and Adele made.

  “We’re newlyweds.”

  “We’re not newlyweds,” she yelled.

  “We just had our first argument as a married couple,” Ambrogio said.

  “The best part about fighting is the make-up sex afterwards,” the grounds keeper said before returning to his hedge clippings.

  “Ambrogio, put me down. Blood is rushing to my head.”

  “Will you come on the island tour with me?”

  “Nooooooooooo.”

  “Then I’m not going to put you down.”

  “You win. I’ll go.”

  “See that wasn’t so difficult.” Ambrogio placed her down on solid ground.

  “Asshole.” Adele landed a punch straight to Ambrogio’s gut, an assault he barely seemed to notice. Adele hadn’t fared so well. Her right hand throbbed.

  “I can kiss it and make it better?”

  They boarded a tour bus outfitted with leather reclining seats and a fully stocked bar. Each seat came with its own mini plasma screen TV. Basil, Adele and Ambrogio’s very own personal tour guide, greeted them after they sat down.

  “Good Morning, I will be the first person to congratulate you on your choice of tour guides. I’m the best tour guide on this island and possibly the world,” Basil said.

  He wore a headful of dreads and a long goatee decorated with beads. Dressed for ba
ttle in fatigues and an oddly matched yellow Hootie and the Blowfish t-shirt, Basil painted a very strange picture.

  “He’s very eccentric,” Adele said to Ambrogio, who insisted on sitting next to her. Adele acquiesced to save herself from a fruitless argument, realizing the word no was not a word he heard often.

  “I have three people on my roster. Where’s Feli…..How do you say this name?” Basil asked.

  “It’s like the Philly in Philly Cheese Steak and Cheetah, like the cat. Felicità isn’t here,” Adele said.

  “Who are you, Miss Lady?” The guide said as he made his way up the aisle.

  “I’m Adele.” She gave him her hand in greeting.

  “Nice to meet you, Adele.” When he spoke the beads in his beard shook.

  Basil’s blatant flirtation with Adele continued with a wink. The gesture sent Ambrogio’s anger into a frenzy. He coughed and sputtered like an overheated engine.

  “Cazzo! Is the show over? Get behind the wheel and start this damn tour before I turn old and gray,” Ambrogio said.

  “Sure thing, boss,” Basil said.

  Ambrogio showed his horns sending the other man back to the front of the bus. Adele grinned at Ambrogio’s colorful use of his native language. She found both their antics amusing.

  The tour began with a stop at a church where Ambrogio said a prayer for his grandmother. An old courthouse transformed into a restaurant served as Ambrogio and Adele’s introduction to Creole bread. They devoured the sweet bread in record time. The Creole bread almost made a second appearance after Adele became nauseous during the Ruby Estates visit. The property was famous for the only waterwheel driven mill in the Caribbean, as well as, a colony of nesting bats.

  “What do you do for a living?” Adele asked between tour stops.

  “I’m a corporate raider. I buy failing businesses and restore or sell them for a profit.”

  “Were you ever in the newspaper.” Adele remembered gawking at a beautiful man in the newspaper, the man was Ambrogio.

  “I’m in the papers all the time. It’s an job hazard.” He made it seem like gracing the newspaper was the equivalent to taking a piss.

  “If you have to sell the businesses for a profit, what happens to the employees?”