Captivated by Her Italian Boss

by Rosanna Battigelli

  And then her mind stilled. He had known who she was when he had hired her. He had watched the interview conducted by his assistant.

  Neve didn’t think she had changed that much in eight years; she had no doubt that he would have recognized her right away. That is, if he had remembered walking past her balcony at Villa Morgana and gazing at her with such intensity...

  She had been young, but not so young that she hadn’t been instantly aware of the meaning of his look. It had riveted her, caused the first stirrings of sensuality, made her wonder what it could lead to...and after three days of this, she had felt a molten heat begin to spread throughout her veins even at the anticipation of seeing him return from his work in the countryside.

  And then one day he had shown up at the beach. When she had seen him and his friend Agostino, whom she recognized as the son of the housekeeper at Villa Morgana, she had tried to be discreet about watching him. She had directed fleeting glances at his tanned, muscled body, always when her mother was distracted with preparing the picnic lunch or sunning on the beach chair. Neve had brought a book along, and she had held it up in front of her, pretending to read, but all the while, gazing at him. She hadn’t known his name, and she’d never seemed to have the opportunity to ask Agostino...

  And two days before she had to leave Italy, Davide had stopped coming by. The first day Neve had left the balcony with a heavy feeling in her chest. She had pleaded a headache and stayed in her room instead of joining her mother and hosts for dinner. Her appetite had left her. Her mother had checked in on her, but Neve had pretended to be sleeping.

  On the evening before their departure, Neve had had no choice but to join the group, despite the fact that she was feeling even worse.

  The next morning she had left Valdoro with a desperate scan of the streets from the backseat of the vehicle that had sped toward the airport. The flight back home had been just as dismal, and for the next few months Neve had felt listless and down. Her mother had claimed it to be a hormone imbalance, and had supplied her with over-the-counter remedies. Neve had pretended to take them, but all the while had flushed them down the toilet.

  Her gut had told her that it wasn’t pills she needed; it was time. Time to get over the crazy feeling that she had lost someone she had just begun to fall in love with...

  Neve’s gaze dropped to the name on the book. Davide Cortese... How often had she wondered about his name? Carlo, Luciano, Marco, Roberto, Vincenzo... She had gone over every Italian name in the alphabet, trying to guess at his. For a long time he had appeared in her adolescent dreams, and during the day she had found it hard to concentrate on her classes.

  When her marks had started to slip, her mother had threatened to send her to a private school and Neve had forced herself to slip out of her malaise and get back to reality. She was in Canada and he was in Southern Italy. They were from different worlds, and there was no chance of those worlds colliding...

  Yet here she was, eight years later. In a castle that she’d be living in for two months with him...and his niece. She shook her head and wanted to pinch herself, but knew it was futile.

  This was not a dream...

  * * *

  Davide had noticed the changes in Neve’s expression. The slight furrowing of her eyebrows suddenly smoothing out, her blue-green eyes widening and her lips parting. And her chest rising with a quick intake of breath. She had recognized him.

  So now what?

  She would have figured out that he had recognized her from the interview. How would she react? Perhaps she was wondering what his real motive was in hiring her. Or feeling threatened that someone she had spurned eight years earlier had masterminded her return to Valdoro? Maybe she wondered if he was some kind of psychopath who was bent on revenge... He searched her face for any sign of fear, but all he saw was surprise. And confusion. He saw her glance down at his books and back at him. Her cheeks had darkened to a deep shade of pink, the same pink as some of the roses and oleander flowers on his property.

  Her eyebrows had lifted in an unspoken question, but Davide wasn’t ready to comply with a response. And it didn’t look like she wanted to be the first one to bring up the now very obvious elephant in the room...

  “Va bene, let’s discuss your goals concerning Bianca before I reinforce my expectations.” His eyes narrowed. “And please respond with specifics about how you intend to achieve those goals.”

  * * *

  Davide checked the time on his phone. He had grilled Neve long enough, and to his surprise, she had answered his questions unwaveringly, providing a detailed knowledge of behavioral strategies and demonstrating a genuine empathy toward children. But the color that had suffused her face earlier had dissipated. In fact, she was looking a little pale...

  He stood up abruptly. “I think we’ve discussed enough for now. Once you have rested, please feel free to go down to any of the rooms on the main level or out in the courtyard or gardens.” He watched as Neve nodded and turned, the uneven hem of her violet dress swirling to reveal a flash of her thighs. His pulse jumped erratically. Despite the efforts he had made to recover emotionally from Neve, his body was obviously not on board.

  Stifling a growl of frustration, he waited until he heard her bedroom door click shut behind her and then busied himself with email, responding to several communications from his publisher, who had been checking on him regularly since Davide had brought Bianca back from Vancouver. Afterward, he went downstairs to make himself an espresso. Sitting with it in the courtyard beyond the kitchen, he couldn’t help thinking about Neve.

  He forced himself to face a hard fact. He was not immune to her physical charms. The eight years of trying to quench his desire for her had been futile. Watching her on his computer screen had activated his pulse, but having her in his presence, within his touch, was a sweet torture that took every ounce of his energy to conceal.

  Maybe hiring Neve Wilder, despite her stellar CV and qualifications, had been a mistake. How could he not have imagined the effect that her presence would have on him? Eight years ago he would have given anything to have met her, held her hand, revealed his feelings. But she had denied him even the chance to meet. Then she had left the country, leaving him with a gnawing regret and a crushed spirit.

  If he had thought that he could be neutral having Neve as a nanny to Bianca without his emotions being affected, he had been delusional. The feel of her hand in his...just that momentary touch had sent a spiral of heat through him, and his heart had hammered against his rib cage, drowning out some of her words... And then she had told him how sorry she was for his and Bianca’s loss, and those azure eyes had started to mist.

  How could he endure two months of having Neve so close? What on earth had he hoped to accomplish, other than to find a nanny who could help Bianca and prepare her for school?

  Davide recalled the flash of recognition on Neve’s face.

  What was she thinking now? Would she stay, now that she knew who he was?

  He clenched his jaw. She had to stay. Whether she liked it or not. Even if she was uncomfortable with him. She had signed a contract. And ultimately, she was here for Bianca, not for him. He would stay out of her way as much as possible.

  Davide felt the familiar stabs of sadness and concern over Bianca’s trauma. Since the accident, she had awoken occasionally during the night with a bad dream. He had made sure to have the room across his set up for her when he brought her back here, and he had always kept his door open to listen for any signs of distress from her.

  It had been a trauma for him, too; he had loved Violetta and had been crushed at the news of her and Tristan’s deaths. He still shuddered every time he thought about the phone call that night. How his body had gone numb, and then trembled in icy shock. There had been no sleep for the rest of the night. He had paced through the castle like a man possessed, feeling a desolation that was as dark and deep as the Ionia
n Sea nearby. And a helplessness that he could do nothing for little Bianca while they were oceans apart.

  He had known that Violetta’s friend Alba would take good care of Bianca until he arrived, and Davide had made her promise that she would let him tell Bianca. Like a zombie, he had thrown together a few clothes in a medium suitcase, and had driven straight to Lamezia Airport. He had flown to Rome and then had made two more connections to his final stop in Vancouver.

  And he had crashed for a few hours in a hotel before hiring a driver to bring him to Alba’s condo.

  That had been five months ago. Before that he had still felt young and relatively carefree. Any sense of happiness over his literary success and his progress with his second novel had dissipated like the morning fog at the news of Violetta and Tristan. And the hardest thing that he had ever had to do was to look at Bianca’s sweet little face, all lit up over his arrival, and tell her about the accident.

  The shadow that had crossed her face, and the cries of “Mummy! Daddy! I want them to come home!” while he held her in his arms, had almost done him in, but he had forced himself to stay calm and strong for her sake, and had stayed with her until she had cried herself to sleep. Alba had prepared a spare room for him, but he opted for a spare cot to be brought to Bianca’s room, in case she woke up in the night, scared or in shock.

  Davide had thanked God countless times that he had been able to fly to Vancouver regularly since Bianca’s birth. Violetta had bestowed him with the honor of being Bianca’s godfather, and he had been determined to have a special relationship with his niece. He had not wanted Bianca to ever feel that he was a stranger.

  Davide had been so grateful that the success of his first novel had provided him with the means to take regular trips and stay connected with Violetta’s family.

  Since he had brought Bianca home with him, Davide had put his writing on hold. Helping Bianca had been his priority. And still was. But now that Neve was here, he might be able return to his novel in progress. If she lasted...

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  NEVE OPENED HER EYES, blinking at the unfamiliar light fixture, a chandelier that featured dozens of colorful Murano glass flowers in various states of bloom. And then she remembered where she was. She had returned to her room and emotionally drained, had taken off her sandals and had lain down on the bed. Despite the turbulence of her thoughts, she had felt herself drifting.

  Now, checking the time, she realized that she had been napping for almost two hours. Still feeling somewhat groggy, she slid off the bed and ambled to the washroom. After a refreshing shower, she towel-dried her hair, combed it out and slipped on a headband. She opened her suitcase and chose an aqua cotton top and a pair of white Capri pants.

  There was no avoiding the situation. She couldn’t stay in her room indefinitely. Taking a deep breath, Neve headed downstairs.

  She found her way past the elegant dining area to the most spectacular kitchen she had ever seen. From the gleaming granite countertops to the oversize appliances, the room shouted luxury. The new complemented the old, which Neve could see was the original stone hearth and an antique harvest table. In the center of the table was a large terra-cotta jug filled with flowers that Neve did not recognize, but she breathed in their delicate scent and loved the way they made the room homey despite its size.

  She started as her boss suddenly spoke behind her.

  “Would you like a cool drink or perhaps a cappuccino?”

  “Thank you. I’d love a cool drink—un’aranciata?”

  “Yes, certainly.” He opened the restaurant-size refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of orange soda and a beer. “Let’s go out into the courtyard...” He strode over to open a large rounded door. “After you.”

  Neve caught her breath. Was there no end to the wonder of this place? It was a garden of Eden; there was no other way to describe it. Lemon and fig trees. Bay laurel and medlar. Wild rosebushes and a huge grape pergola. And a large trellis, draped with an enchanting canopy of wisteria in full bloom. Glazed pots of every size and color, filled with rosemary, oregano, parsley, sage and thyme. And beyond, a vegetable garden and a profusion of cactus pear bushes.

  Davide set down the drinks on an ornate glass table and pulled out a chair for Neve.

  She thanked him and sat down. As Neve sipped her orange soda, she gazed at the more rugged terrain across the mountain, and then beyond that, to the cobalt strip of the Ionian Sea. It was unreal, being here. Never in her wildest imagination had she thought she’d be working in a place like this. She glanced again at the cultivated areas of the property and imagined all the work that had gone into it.

  Neve turned to see Davide sit next to her, a beer in his hand.

  “You must have a gardener,” Neve said, unable to keep the awe out of her voice.

  “You’re looking at him,” Davide replied curtly.

  Neve was taken aback at his tone. Had she said something that had offended him? “Oh... I just thought...”

  “That someone with my money would have hired help?” He gave a biting laugh. “No, when I bought this place, I decided that I needed to restore it to its previous glory and functionality. Inside and out. And I wanted to do the work outside myself, as I had done on my uncle’s farm years ago.” His eyes speared hers. “Let’s just say that I needed to get over something...and hard, physical labor under our summer Calabrian sun will make you forget just about anything...or anybody.”

  Neve’s heart did a half flip at the intensity of his gaze. Why did she have the gnawing feeling that Davide was inferring something that she would understand? Davide’s mouth opened as if he was going to add something, but he promptly shut it, and the look he gave her was almost...reprimanding.

  Perhaps she was misinterpreting things. Why would he be reprimanding her?

  Neve glanced away, her cheeks already feeling the effects of the late-afternoon sun. Or was it more than the sun?

  * * *

  Davide excused himself as he stood up. “My housekeeper/cook is away for a week,” he said. “So you’re going to have to put up with some of my cooking.” While Neve sauntered into the garden, Davide went inside to prepare a tomato salad and lemon rosemary chicken scallopini.

  He set down the plates on the kitchen island, and he brought out a slightly chilled white Greco wine.

  * * *

  Davide had pulled out a chair for Neve at the kitchen island. “Buon appetito,” he said, gesturing for her to start.

  “If the rest of your cooking is this good, I won’t mind that your housekeeper’s away,” Neve murmured after her first taste. She glanced across at him shyly. “I can make basic meals, but I must say I was glad that cooking wasn’t part of the requirements of this job...”

  Davide arched an eyebrow. “I’m surprised...”

  Neve’s fork paused in midair. “That I’m a mediocre cook?”

  “That you’d be so candid about your perceived culinary shortcoming.”

  Neve shrugged. “I see no need to lie about myself, or pretend I’m something I’m not.”

  “That’s a good virtue for a nanny to have.” Davide swirled the wine in his glass without averting his gaze.

  They ate in silence for a few moments, and Davide wondered if it was the right time to venture into the past and confront Neve about the letter. About how less than virtuous she had been in the way she had treated him...

  No; now was not the time. Neve had just arrived today. It wasn’t fair to bombard her with something that had happened eight years ago, and that had probably bothered him a lot more than her. He would have to be patient and wait for the right opportunity...

  Lucia would be bringing Bianca back after two days, leaving him tomorrow and the day after to evaluate Neve’s character and suitability to take care of Bianca. Tomorrow he planned to take Neve to the market. He wanted to observe and interact with her in a variety of
settings, with a variety of people. If any red flags went up in his mind, he could address them with her and then decisions would be made.

  Davide offered Neve coffee, but she declined, thanking him for the lovely meal before excusing herself to return to her room. He watched her leave, and after setting the dishes in the dishwasher and turning it on, he decided to turn in, as well.

  Lying in his king-size bed with his sheets pulled back, Davide listened to the night sounds outside his windows, unable to sleep. He heard an owl, and a few minutes later, a kestrel. He shivered involuntarily, despite the warmth of the night.

  Neve had been in his castle only one day, and already she had begun to affect him. From what he could determine today, she would be good for Bianca.

  But would she be good for him?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  NEVE’S PHONE ALARM woke her up and she rolled over to silence it on her night table, her eyes still closed. Her first thought was what to wear for school, and then her eyes flew open. School was over. She stared up at the ceiling, looked down at the unfamiliar quilt and gazed around her without lifting her head off the pillow. Her mind cleared. She was in Davide Cortese’s castle, and she had been hired for the summer as nanny to his niece, Bianca.

  But it would be a couple of days more before Bianca returned. A couple of days more for Davide to ascertain whether she would be right for the job.

  Neve stretched and rolled off the bed, almost losing her balance when she missed the stepping stool. She wondered what Davide had planned for today...and her nerve endings began to tingle... She didn’t blame Davide for wanting to ensure that she would work out; what unnerved her was knowing that she’d be alone with him...

  Stop. Now. Focus on what you’re here for...

  Neve headed to the bathroom, opting for a shower. She marveled again at the spaciousness and luxury around her. The wooden shutters on the two casement windows were open, and the sun splashed into the room, which was bigger than the kitchen in her apartment back in Vancouver. Everything gleamed, from the marble floor to the granite countertop and silver fixtures. The crystal chandelier, casting its prismatic colors on the opposite wall, was intertwined with a sculpted garland of leaves and roses in various states of bloom. Neve couldn’t believe how lifelike they looked.