The Sicilian's Proposition

by Rees, Lynette

  “What are you thinking about, Joanne?” Dante sat down next to her.

  Her eyes flicked open. “Oh, about my family home. It was a little Welsh village and my people were similar to yours, so warm. Everyone knew everyone.”

  He nodded. “That is nice to know. But when you went to London, you found it impersonal, no?”

  Startled, she sat up and placed her shades on her forehead to look into his eyes. “How did you know that?”

  He laughed. “I do not have to be a mind reader to know such things, Joanne. I felt it myself the first time I went to London to work at our office. I felt so lonely being away from my homeland.”

  She had no idea someone like him with his lifestyle could feel that way. “But didn’t you have any relationships at that time?”

  “No, not at all. I was with Carla then. So I couldn’t live the life of a single man. The nights were long for me and the days were short.”

  “So has Carla ever been on this boat?”

  His eyes clouded over for a moment as if deciding honesty was the best policy. “Yes, but only the once. It didn’t turn out too well, we argued a lot. I should have seen the signs then—that things weren’t going too well between us.”

  “Yes, I suppose we can all see things with hindsight.”

  He nodded and sat back as if in quiet reflection. She wished she hadn’t reminded him of the woman who had hurt him so bad. Part of her wished the woman didn’t exist at all. How envious she was of Dante’s affection for the woman. She imagined for a moment, they were an item. There was no Carla and Dante, it was Dante and Joanne and everyone knew that. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  Sometime later, Dante nudged her and said, “Have you got that bikini with you?”

  She nodded. “Yes, but I’d prefer not to wear it.”

  “Do not worry, Joanne. I am not here to judge you. Please go below deck and put it on. I am going to switch off the engine.”

  She picked up her bag and, trembling, went down the small flight of steps. There was a little passageway with a bedroom to the left and a kitchen to the right, and toward the back a bigger room that looked like some sort of lounge area. She pushed the bedroom door open wide and went inside, gasping when she saw the mirrored ceiling. The bed looked very luxurious with its black and gold bed covers and matching pillows. It was a playboy’s bedroom. Had he made love to Carla or any other woman in that bed?

  She removed her dress and underwear and slipped on her red bikini. She’d put a little weight on of late, which she’d resolved to remove, but somehow she hadn’t achieved that. She planned on going to some sort of exercise class when she returned home. Recently she took up jogging, but the hard slog on the pavements and the poor air quality from the city traffic wasn’t ideal. There was another problem with living in London, too many takeaways, as she lived on her own. Back home, her mother always ensured she had home-cooked meals. Studying herself in the mirror, she tried to assure herself she didn’t look too bad. At least her gold belly chain sort of emphasized she had a waist.

  She wrapped her large beach towel around herself and came above deck to find Dante had already changed into a pair of white swimming trunks. She held her breath when she saw his tanned, trim body. He had a smattering of black hair on his chest and looked very muscular. His chest was broad, and she longed to run her fingers over its contours and lay her head on it. She inhaled, exhaled, and tried to keep her composure.

  “Come on, Joanne,” he teased. “Drop the towel.” His chocolate brown eyes glinted devilishly.

  She let her towel fall to the floor and watched as his eyes widened with desire.

  “Mamma Mia. Why do you fear showing your body to me? You are beautiful…and that gold chain around your stomach, it makes you look very sexy…”

  No one had ever called her sexy before, ever. Her mouth dry, she licked her lips. “I haven’t let a man see me in a bikini for years, Dante. I’m not as slim as I used to be.”

  “No, no, Joanne. To me you look fabulous. I love your curves. They suit you. A man needs somewhere comfortable to land.” He laughed, making her laugh too, and it helped to ease her heightened nerves. He pecked her on the cheek and then, much to her astonishment, he turned, walked to the side of the boat, climbed on the edge, and dived into the water, sending up a huge splash of sea spray.

  She stood and peered overboard but couldn’t see him for a few seconds; her heart thudded. Where had he gone? Then there was a splash as he emerged and wiped the water out of his eyes, laughing and bobbing up and down in the water. “Come on in here, join me please, Joanne,” he urged. She hadn’t been expecting this at all.

  Gingerly she sat on the side of the boat. “Will you help me into the water?” She bit her lip.

  “Of course, amore mio. Jump to me, I will catch you.”

  She closed her eyes and with blind faith threw herself into his arms. For a moment the combined weight made them dip under water and she began to panic a little. Then they were fully submerged, and eventually returned to the surface, bobbing up and down. There was a small ladder at the side of the boat she could cling to if she wanted to and that reassured her somehow. Who could fail to feel safe with Dante around?

  “But…but…where are we?” she spluttered.

  “Joanne, we are only just off the coastline of Sicily. Over there are the Aeolian Islands.” He pointed and she made out some dark shapes in the distance. “We shall have a little swim here, rest later, and eat too. Then I am going to sail the boat over to one of them. It’s called Lipari and it’s the largest island, it’s volcanic. The food there is out of this world.”

  “You are full of surprises, Dante.”

  “I know.” He smiled and drew her close to him, stroked her face, and then pressed his lips down on hers, stealing her breath away as his tongue danced with hers. “Like that you mean?” he asked, drawing away.

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “And like this?” He wrapped his arms around her and untied her bikini top. She gasped at his cheek and watched as he spun it around his head and tossed it aboard the boat.

  “What did you do that for?” She blinked several times.

  “Because you have a beauty, Joanne, that needs to be admired.” He cupped a breast in his hand and lowered his head to suckle. She groaned as a tingle of desire coursed around her body. “Please do not worry, there is no one to see us here like this.”

  He pushed her up against the boat; the water was so clear, so aquamarine and warmer than she thought, though that might have been because he had switched on her button of desire. There were some fish swimming down below in among the fronds and rocks. She gazed in awe.

  “Yes, this is a good place to catch fish, Joanne. I have been scuba diving here. You should join me sometime.”

  She laughed. “I think this is as much of the ocean I can stand, Dante. I’m not a strong swimmer.”

  He ran a wet finger along her cheek. “Ah, you are frightened, I can see that, but you need not be when you are with me. I can teach you about so many things.”

  She shivered; without a doubt, there were many things Dante Alphonso could teach her, not least of all lovemaking. He was her tutor and she was about to become a very willing student.

  His hand trailed over her stomach, and aware of the hardness of the boat behind her, she watched as he disappeared under the water. What was he doing? She gasped as she felt him loosen the tie on one side of her bikini bottom and then the other. He emerged from the water, grinning, with her red bikini bottom in his hand as if he had won first prize. She was exposed and vulnerable, but at the same time it was exhilarating.

  “Please hand them back to me,” she urged.

  “You’ll have to catch me first.” He swam off with them in his hand and she tried to follow him, keeping up at first, but then she got weaker and out of breath. He didn’t notice. She began to panic and slipped beneath the water, and then she came back up for breath but felt herself slip again and remerge. “D
ante!” she called out, but he couldn’t seem to see her, probably thinking he was well into his game. Then she saw herself back in a different sea off the coast of Wales. She was eight years old and she was drowning again.

  “Dante!” her voice was getting weaker as she swallowed copious amounts of seawater. She was about to die, she was sure of it. She had been rescued all those years ago, but now her life flashed before her. She saw her father’s face and he was reaching out to her, but he was going under the water.

  She tried to cry for help, but somehow she couldn’t get the word out; her throat felt paralyzed with fear.

  Then Dante turned. “My God, Joanne!” he shouted and swam back to her side. He hadn’t been very far away, but she felt she lost him somehow. She felt him hold her in his arms and hug her. “I am so sorry.”

  Safe and secure once more, her rapid breathing returned to normal as her panic dissipated.

  “Thank you,” she gasped.

  “Oh no, you should not be thanking me, amore mio, this is all my fault. I only intended having some fun with you. Carla was a strong swimmer. I should have been more careful with you. I should not have left you to your own devices.” He hugged her and kissed her gently on the forehead. “Come on, I want to get you back on the boat, safe and warm and dry.”

  ***

  Full of shame, he helped her back onboard the boat and covered her in her bath towel. What on earth had possessed him to leave her like that and think she could catch up with him? Carla had been such a good swimmer, he’d expected the same thing from Joanne. She was sobbing now, huge racking sobs. He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed.

  “I’m sorry Joanne. I didn’t realize it would be this bad for you.” He stroked her face as he sat beside her.

  “It’s not that, Dante. You did nothing wrong, I should have explained something to you.”

  “Is it something about what happened to you as a child?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Do you want to talk about it now?”

  She nodded, and his thumb wiped away a tear that was coursing its way down her cheek; she trembled beneath his touch.

  “I’ll tell you what, you need to get changed and warm again. You’ve had a shock. So please put your clothes on and I’ll fetch you some hot coffee, and I’ll add some brandy to it. How does that sound?”

  She nodded. He kissed her on the forehead and left her to change. He could have kicked himself for causing her such distress. On the other hand, if it helped her to talk about something so traumatic that had been affecting her for years, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.

  He returned a few minutes later with the coffee laced with brandy. She was dressed now; he handed her a blanket. “Here, wrap this around you and drink the coffee slowly, Joanne.”

  She nodded and took the cup from his hand, and he sat on the bed beside her.

  “It tastes good.”

  He smiled. “So, what happened out there?”

  “I had a sort of a flashback…Dante…”

  “Flashback?”

  “Yes. You see when I was a little girl, around eight years old, I was on holiday with my parents. I was on the beach and went in the sea. I kept looking to see where my parents were so I knew how to get back to them. I had an inflatable air mattress with me and was playing with it, but found myself drifting farther and farther out to sea. I panicked, fell off it, and started going under the water. My father must have seen from the shore what was going on. He couldn’t swim but bravely came to rescue me. I don’t remember exactly what happened, just both of us going under the water, and the next thing I remember is lying on the beach, surrounded by people, and my mother crying. My father had drowned trying to rescue me.” She sobbed and he took her in his arms and rocked her, softly kissing the top of her head.

  “Oh my beautiful Joanne, what an awful thing to happen to you.”

  She nodded. “I always felt so guilty, though, Dante. As though it was my fault in some way.”

  He stroked her face and looked into her watery jade green eyes. “Ah no, you must never think that way. What happened was an accident. Probably your father, as he could not swim, should have called for help, but his instinct was to save you, so he didn’t think straight. Maybe he did save your life in a way, even though he drowned himself, as people probably saw from the beach what was going on. He alerted them to the fact there was a child in distress.”

  She nodded. She had stopped crying now. “You’re probably right, Dante.”

  He held his hand up to her and she matched it with hers, their fingers entwining. It was a moment of bonding for him. “I think when you go back home, you need to see your mother, Joanne. You told me you haven’t seen her for a while. Believe me, it will be too late when she has gone. I miss my mother every day.”

  “Yes, you are right, Dante. I need to…”

  “You also need to tell her about the guilt you’ve been carrying around for all these years. You need to talk with one another. Now tell me, do you want me to take you back to the hotel, or would you like us to go on to Lipari as planned?”

  “I think I want to go anywhere, Dante, as long as it’s with you.”

  “Then, amore mio, we shall go to Lipari. I’m going to start the engine. Take your time and join me on deck when you are ready. You’ve had a shock but you will see, all of this will work out for the best and you will discover by the time you return to London what a healing place Sicily has been for you.”

  Chapter Six

  Neither had eaten much on the boat, so by the time they arrived at Lipari, her stomach was growling with hunger.

  “Would you like to eat, Joanne?” Dante looked into her eyes. He wanted to take care of her so much.

  “Yes, please. I’m ravenous.”

  “Are you okay now?” He stroked her cheek.

  She nodded and he gently squeezed her hand. A heavy weight had lifted from her shoulders, and although now she felt a sense of relief, she was a little tired too.

  “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll wash my face and freshen up before we get off the boat,” she said, trying to sound as bright as she could. That had been an awful scare for him earlier and he felt bad about it. She owed it to him to enjoy the rest of the trip. The past couple of days she should have been working on her feature article, but the truth was she had been having such a great time with the sights and sounds of Sicily, not to mention the tastes too. She hadn’t written a word, but she remembered everything. She’d brought her laptop with her but told herself there would be time to write later.

  When they got off the boat, he told her all about the castle on the island and the famous mud baths from the volcano. It was an interesting place. He led her through streets packed with tourists, where leather goods like handbags and belts hung from shop walls and pretty colored pots and vases were displayed on tables and in shop windows. Outside, old women dressed in black with deeply etched tanned skin sat, making lace, crocheting, or talking in the shaded doorways. Elderly men smoked cigarettes and passed the time of day drinking cups of espresso or glasses of beer. Couples strolled through small alleyways hand in hand. Families ate ice cream on benches near the sea.

  Each and every face told a different story.

  “I am taking you to a charming restaurant where I would like to order my favorite ever meal,” he said, breaking into her thoughts.

  “And what is that?”

  “It’s called Pasta Tagliatelle Liparese. It tastes wonderful, Joanne. It’s made with fresh, red Sicilian tuna, which is famous for being the best in the world, black olives, capers, and seasoned with salt, pepper, and parsley…”

  “That sounds wonderful, mouthwatering.”

  “Oh it is, believe me.” He tilted her chin with his thumb and forefinger and descended for a long, lingering kiss that left her breathless and wanting more. That’s what she loved most about him, his spontaneity. She smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”

 
He grinned, took her hand, and led her up some stone steps to a little restaurant overlooking the shoreline, where they could see the colorful boats bobbing on the sea.

  After eating the first course, he looked at her. “Now don’t you feel better, Joanne? I know I promised you champagne, but I think we’ll leave that for the hotel later.”

  “Hotel? Giovanni’s hotel?”

  He shook his head. “No, I have decided we shall spend the night here. We could stay on the boat, but I think after everything that’s happened today, we should stay on terra firma.”

  He was telling her what they should do whether she liked that or not. She was used to being her own boss, going to bed when she wanted, but then again she was a guest in his country. And when in Rome…

  “Okay,” she agreed. “But don’t forget about Byrne. He could get cross that you’ve excluded him from this trip.”

  “Don’t worry about him. I’ll get my brother to give him a few drinks at the hotel bar tonight.”

  Although Dante’s tone was one of reassurance, when it came to the photographer, she didn’t trust him one iota.

  “And now, Joanne, the piece de resistance, the cassata cake,” he announced when the waiter arrived at the table with a large, fancy-looking cake on a trolley.

  She wrinkled her nose. “What is that?”

  He smiled. “It’s a cake invented by the Arabs when they came to us in 700 AD. It’s made with baked ricotta cheese, then after the Spanish arrival, sponge cake was added too. We shall have some with coffee. It originates from Palermo.”

  He snapped his fingers and ordered two espressos from the waiter. How she wished she had his confidence and command over others.

  She watched him eating his cake; he enjoyed his food, that was for sure. But then again, Sicilian food seemed to arouse the senses. Flavors were so fresh here. Indeed, the history of the place and all its influences were interesting.

  “So this Jackson Byrne, Joanne,” he wiped some stray cream from his lips with a napkin, “there is something else you have against him? There’s bad blood between you?”