Caffé Seduzione
Dedication: Grazi to my eternal mate Chris who sees me safely through everything. My mentor Vincent Zandri is a tremendous guide and example through the world of publication and the suspense genre. Chris White, you are a fantastic editor who made me laugh when I wanted to send you scathing emails at just the right time. April Colburn, you made a truly fantastic cover that captured what I wanted beautifully. The Idaho Writers Guild are my honest beacon…thanks guys. There are a ton of friends and family, I thank each of you in person enough, but I will here again. Thanks. Love you all.
CHAPTER 1
ANTONY LEFT SCIAM, HIS usual, with his usual: caffé macchiato. He straightened his tailored, silk Calvin Klein suit and got into his charcoal ‘68 BMW 2.8iL. It was seven precisely, and Colleen would most likely be waiting. He knew he should have never pursued her, but Antony Vincent De Luca lived by his own code.
His relationship with Colleen was progressing as it did with other women he had wooed…with the exception of one setback. He was in love with her. That was a life-altering realization for a serial dater like Antony. She wasn’t even close to his type—those tall, blonde, stereotypical beauties.
Colleen was tall with the right curves…but these attributes expressed themselves in ways he never before imagined. She possessed the roundness of a mature woman, and he shocked himself that she became his favorite fantasy—he thought of her often.
Normally he wouldn’t have considered her after their initial chance meeting in the States; she was a married woman and mother. But he found that his thoughts kept coming back to her. So in between connections on the return flight to Rome he found her on Facebook. It had been a foreign feeling, anxiously waiting for her acceptance. And he found it surprisingly rewarding when she consented.
As their talks progressed, he found himself disarmed by her ability to see straight through his bravado and get to the very core of who he was. She possessed insight into the things of intelligence and grace. Sometimes an inner glow would appear upon her face, and the effect made him subconsciously sit up straight, moving closer to the screen via Skype.
Always, always…this glow appeared when she spoke of Ava, her darling daughter. She was five. He had only seen pictures of the beautiful child, but he felt himself drawn into the love she felt for her. The life Colleen lived was smothering the fire. She deserved better. It was something Antony planned to change.
Antony unlocked the door of his top floor apartment...the walls were lined with art and ancient weapons—they were his indulgence—his furniture was modest, however. He logged on to his Skype account. She was waiting. He knew that it was awful to use the same tactics that he used on other women, making them wait, wanting them to yearn. It was working though, and he couldn’t let her see how utterly in love he was with her. Although there were no other women he associated with since meeting her, in a sense he was already devoted to her.
Loyalty was something Antony’s biological parents, the Ramanos, had instilled in him before being brutally murdered when he was twelve. Maybe that was why he fell for Colleen: she was dedicated to those she loved.
Perhaps it was the capacity for kindness she possessed. It was much like that of his adoptive parents, the DeLucas. They’d taken him in after his parents’ death and showed him a world away from violence and mobsters, showing young Antony the value of hard work in the hot kitchen of the family restaurant, DeLuca’s.
He clicked on her highlighted name to begin the video chat. The screen began to turn like the dials of a vintage telephone—he smoothed his mustache and hair and took a deep breath.
CHAPTER 2
Colleen zipped her jacket up against the wind. It was a gift from her younger brother Jonathan, whose clothing consisted of camouflage and Kevlar now; he had no need of it. She could still smell his Hollister cologne from the lining, and she worried about him. He was going to war, leaving his new wife behind.
She thought about her brother’s wedding day; it’d been spontaneous, lovely. Unlike her wedding day…planned down to the penny. There never was any money left for her. She lost herself in the cheap romance novels she bought with her left-over grocery money, and that was the story of her life with Mike: cheap and planned.
Colleen hated half-day kindergarten. Her daughter, Ava, was especially difficult before school today, insisting on wearing capris when it was twenty degrees outside, and she was looking forward to her retreat to the coffee shop with a book. The rest of the day would be her only time for herself.
The walk back from the bus stop was hurried, but she slow as we came closer to her apartment, she didn’t want to have to do what she should. She rounded the apartment building right before her own and checked the mail. Her granny had sent a check with a note: Do not tell Mike. This money is for you. Love, Granny.
The neighbor waved, leaving for work. Colleen considered asking her advice about her problem, but decided against it. The less people knew the better. She sighed. The bottom step of her building seemed to hold her in place. She called it the ‘step of trepidation’ because it reminded her of the broken promise every time she stood on it.
Mike’s promise was it would only be a short time in the apartment—they were on their fourth year now. There was never enough money to move—but there was always money for a new truck or new equipment for the landscaping business.
Living on the second floor had its benefits for sure, but for Colleen, it was the beautiful views. Blue and white mountains fenced her safely inside the valley she loved. And those mountains were symbolic to her marriage—brief peaks of joy, but mostly giant looming slopes of despair.
She would ski and sled up there in the winter, and when that failed, she would hike and explore them, discovering their hidden treasures. They were her pleasant prison; their jagged peaks barbed wire wrapping around the top of her cage.
Long before marriage and children, she vowed she would one day go far beyond them…but for now they only reminded her how she had never done that.
She sighed again, climbing the steps and opening the door of her small apartment. She took off her brother’s jacket and hung it on the hook.
She missed him. Jonathan’s dry humor and crooked smile always made her happy. Those same attributes got him in woman troubles more than once, too—troubles she had fixed for him—often. She looked at the picture of him and her new sister-in-law. She straightened the frame.
Colleen went into the bathroom to turn on her curling iron, and then checked the world clock on her phone. It was seven pm in Rome—he would be expecting her soon. She curled her hair, brushed her teeth, and applied her makeup. She picked out a blue fitted shirt that flared at the waist, easily hiding her muffin top. She wore her favorite pair of indigo dyed jeans, on the fourth wash and still no fading. It was overkill, but all of it was worth it…because it was for him.
CHAPTER 3
Colleen sat at her desktop and did a webcam check. The dirty dishes on the counter were in the background, so she quickly loaded the dishwasher. She checked the world clock on her phone again. Antony was late. That was just classic Antony; self-absorbed, egotistical, a true alpha male—and she had fallen hard for him over the past few weeks.
She knew that their first meeting was by chance. It had been at her favorite coffee shop. She’d spilled hers on his expensive Italian shoes in her hurry to get lost in the latest romantic thriller. When she apologized, his smile was lopsided, like her brother’s. The rest of Antony, though, was sublime…the epitome of Italian masculinity. A professionally tailored suit fitted around his broad chest left little to the imagination.
She melted under the heat of his well-traveled brogue. Her blush enticed the Italian businessman because it made the cream of her skin fairer, bringing out auburn highlights in her hair. Before he could speak further, she excused herself. Not much later, he found her in her corner and ever so gently pushed her book down, his eyes meeting hers. He asked to join her.
She didn’t—coul
dn’t—resist, and three hours of sparkling conversation later, what could she say? They had talked of world events, music, and social media, and Colleen realized she had forgotten too much: time, Ava, her husband Mike. She twisted her wedding band around as the guilt washed over her, causing her to blush again. Antony had seen it. He told her that her husband was a lucky man.
They parted ways after that. She thought it would be the last she would hear from him. She settled in late that night, checking in on Facebook. To her shock, she found a friend request waiting from Antony. She debated: she could have a friend...maybe they could continue their interesting conversations online. What could it hurt?
Their Facebook friendship started with dry and witty comments on status updates, but quickly evolved into IM chats and Skype calls—sometimes daily. Antony posted up pictures of the buildings and architecture of Rome for her. She found herself daydreaming one day she would see them in person—perhaps with Antony.
Ring! Ring! The Skype messenger called. She took a deep breath, licked her lips. It was Antony, the embodiment of every romance novel she’d read. Her heart skipped a beat, but he knew—he could tell something was wrong. She saw it in his eyes and tried not to cry.
“Antony, I think that we should stop this.”
”But why?”
“My feelings for you are becoming too…intimate…I feel like I’m committing emotional adultery.” Quiet dominated the miles between them, but then he smiled a devil’s grin, accenting his mustache and goatee.
“Colleen, I should have never pursued you. I have to admit, though, I’d hoped for those feelings…some of them. But not to cause you pain.”
***
Colleen appeared…she was stunning in sapphire. It was a style of dress much more modest than Antony was used to seeing. Yet it was more appealing.
Her lips forced a tight smile, and he saw her eyes glistening with unshed tears. He suddenly felt like he’d just jumped off the side of a skyscraper, the way his heart leapt up into his throat.
Colleen expressed her desire to stay faithful to her husband. Faithful! But we had yet to do anything—no matter how many times he fantasized about winning her love. That’s all it ever had been: a fantasy.
Then she used an expression he never even considered, which caused him to feel something he never had: emotional adultery. With those two words, he fell in love with her completely. She was lovely to him in mind, body and spirit. The problem was that she was trying to be faithful to a scoundrel.
Antony knew all about her husband Mike; he’d done the research himself. Mike used Colleen’s inheritance money to start a landscaping business. She was an orphan, like Antony. Mike was actually far wealthier than his wife knew—most of his money went to his mistress—among other hobbies.
The good thing for Antony about being the son of a deceased Don was that his contacts from the Ramano family were loyal. They could be enlisted at any time with the mention of a name.
Antony swallowed his heart and made it through her goodbye. When the screen went blank, a solitary tear escaped his eye. The last time he shed even one tear was at his parents’ wake.
He pulled his favorite sword from the wall and began a series of routines. Sweat and exertion always calmed him when he was upset, and now that he was accomplishing both, his mind cleared.
Grabbing a towel from the bathroom, he found his cell phone and called the caretaker of his deceased parents’ winery estate insisting on interviewing new landscapers.
For no reason he could explain, he was in love with another man’s wife—and Antony Vincent DeLuca knew what he wanted.
***
Colleen wiped her eyes as she said goodbye to Antony. He blew her a kiss and was gone. She deleted him from her friends’ lists, and erased Rome from her world clock. Then she checked her mascara and dutifully went to the store. She bought the groceries, came home, put them away, and started dinner.
While the pot roast baked in the oven, she stepped out on the balcony for some air. The full effect of what she’d done—what she had been doing—began to sink in. The joy and zest Antony awoke in her was gone. The apartment felt to her like the closed leaf of a Venus Fly trap, she its prey.
The balcony door squeaked. Mike.
He was strong, hardworking; his eyes beginning to wrinkle at the corners like hers. They were that special shade of hazel she had only ever seen in him and Ava. His hair was short, to hide the grey beginning to peek through. There was an envelope in his hand.
“Am I bothering you?’ he asked. He appeared nervous as he shifted his weight back and forth. Panic suddenly set in. Did he know about Antony? He silently offered the envelope to her.
Breathing became hard as she opened it. It wasn’t what she had thought: inside there were two airline tickets and the travel itinerary for an Italian tour. Her heart stopped, as did her breathing. He held out his arms for her, and she happily filled them. Then he proceeded to tell her of his big new job opportunity.
While Mike showered, she pulled out her phone and found the app for the world clock. She saved the Rome setting.
CHAPTER 4
Colleen shook involuntarily in the dingy waiting area of an Italian police station, accidentally spilling some of her coffee on her jeans. This brew paled in comparison to the luxurious blend from Sciam she’d enjoyed since coming to Rome. She glanced out from under the safety of her lashes and confirmed the Italian police officers were looking at her while speaking quietly. Italian was not an easy language for a Midwestern American, and an interpreter had not yet been found. Colleen had no choice but to sit, wait and worry.
All she had left to express her feelings was a sigh. The trip of her dreams turned into reality—a nightmare—overnight.
She had awakened that morning in their hotel room alone. The room was trashed, everything was gone. She’d contacted the front desk and they called the local authorities. She realized quickly that Mike left her in a foreign country with no money, no identification, and completely alone.
The tears began again, and she dug in her coat for a napkin. It was from Sciam, and that was when it occurred to her. Without hesitation, she ran to the front desk.
She tried her best in garbled Italian to ask them to contact Antony DeLuca. The look on the officer’s face was shock mixed with fear, but when she said the name again louder, action was instantaneous.
She felt a little lighter, but as the minutes ticked by the doubt resurfaced. She’d spent three days in Rome, some of which was at Sciam…his coffee shop…without even the slightest glimpse of Antony.
But Antony could be out of town…Mike himself had been spending all his time with his ‘new client,’ and she possessed strong feelings on the prospect of actually moving to Rome.
Ava would love it here! She would be young enough to pick up the language. Thinking of her daughter choked her up. How would she get back to her baby girl? She couldn’t get through on the phone. She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Ava was with her closest friend, April.
She rushed to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her blotchy skin. It was refreshing. She smoothed her hair back, grabbed some tissue for her pocket, and began to return to her seat by the window. As she rounded the corner, the world stopped—she looked toward the front door.
It was Antony. He walked in as if he owned the place, and as soon as he saw her, he approached. “What happened Grazioso bellezza?” Under the spell of this intimate endearment, she fell in his arms and wept.
CHAPTER 5
Antony had rushed down the roads leading from his estate back to the cobblestoned streets of Rome when he got the phone call. His contact in the Carabiniere called about an American woman using his name. On the drive back to the city, time crawled like the rotation of the earth for him.
When he came into the police station, he didn’t see her immediately, and his heart sank. But then she appeared—eyes reddened. She was actually here, in Rome! He stroked her hair as she sobbed, cooing reassurances
to his Grazioso bellezza, his graceful beauty. It had been a joke between them after she spilt her drink on him, what felt like an eternity ago.
He noticed whispers, and he looked up at the crowd around them. He realized the seriousness of the situation—no one ever made eye contact with Antony DeLuca—that never happened.
With Colleen safely under his arm he spoke with the authorities about what had happened. Mike had not only abandoned her–he was suspected of leaving the country as well: a man that fit his description purchased a one-way ticket to South America. The police were going to bring him in for questioning about some underground casinos.
Antony thanked the Carabiniere for the information and asked if Colleen was free to go. The officer asked with obvious embarrassment if Antony would vouch for her. The steely glare that came with Antony’s response caused the officer to look away. Antony informed him that she would be with him if there were any more questions for her.
On the ride to his home, Colleen sat quietly looking at the rumpled napkin she gripped in her hand.
He guided her through the door of his penthouse suite and sat her on his couch while he brewed some caffé. As he placed two identical cups on a tray, he tried to think of something to say to offer her comfort. For them, it had always been fine coffee and la conversazione bella, good conversation—hadn’t it? He wanted more for them. Much more.
The cup shook as she sipped. She got up and paced the room. Antony selfishly daydreamed she would stay forever and walk the same paths he walked.
“What can I do?” he finally asked her, breaking the silence. She turned. The clock chimed, and with it, her face lit up.
“Can I please call my daughter? Oh, no, Antony,” she suddenly realized, “what if he has her?” She seemed ready to cry again.
He held out his phone. “Why don’t you call and find out for yourself?” He was sure Mike wouldn’t be stupid enough to go after Ava, especially by way of South America. She quickly dialed the number, and Antony saw the day’s fear and turmoil melt from her face as she spoke with her daughter.
Intrigue (Stories of Suspense) Page 6
