Love on a Lark: an Italian love story
Page 18
There was no better excuse to be joined at the hip with Lark than work. She’d become a bit of a celebrity herself, the beautiful young American “translator” that’d captured the fashion mogul’s heart and become Italian royalty. A “Cinderella Story” everyone called it. She outdazzled every man’s wife whever they went, and he secretly lived for it.
Her African-American heritage raised her profile in America as well, and Dario’s along with it. They had more business than they knew what to do with. It was a good thing Gino was coming along this time. He would be graduating early, and Dario was more and more eager to have him learn while the company was in the midst of growing pains. It would be grueling, but it would be an education like no other. And Gino was starting to show signs of his father’s ambition.
An hour later he received a text from Lark.
“Just landed. Meet me at my hotel for negotiations.”
Dario smirked. It was going to be that kind of trip, was it?
Dario adored Lark’s pregnant and horny phase. It made him want to go for a fourth. But it would be another year at least before he could openly suggest such a thing without risking his well-being.
He sat at the cafe just outside the hotel, waiting for Lark at the usual spot. She showed up in a tan dress, delightfully round and wearing her hair in a low ponytail that now hung in the middle of her back. The pre-natal vitamins made her hair grow like vines. Her boobs were like melons and he was already licking his lips, formulating a plan. They’d been apart for several days. She shed her sunglasses once she entered the cafe and their eyes followed each other. Dario stood and greeted her with a kiss on both cheeks, while simultaneously giving her a firm handshake. They sat across from each other in their respective power positions.
“What can I do for you, Signora Chambers?”
She stifled a grin. Every time, she thought.
“It’s Signora Di Rossi now.”
“Of course.”
“Allora, I’ve gone over the numbers and, in light of increased demand—”
“LDL agreed to my terms.”
“This was before Germany was added to the itinerary.”
“You’re welcome to bow out of Germany if you do not wish to go, Signora Di Rossi. I’m sure we could make do.”
“It would be an honor to join you in Germany, Signore Di Rossi, I just wish to be paid.”
“Would an extra two thousand be sufficient?”
“It would not.”
“For 24 hours?”
“Only twenty, actually.”
“Signora, are you able to justify these inflated figures?”
“Germany will take time away from my family, namely my son.”
Dario raised an eyebrow.
“It is my understanding that time away from your son was the incentive for Germany.”
“Be that as it may… it’s still difficult.”
Dario shifted in his chair, suddenly feeling as though he was being played.
“Va bene, Signora Di Rossi. An additional twenty-five hundred will have to be my final offer.”
Lark twirled her massive wedding ring around with her thumb.
“It seems we’re unable to reach a consensus,” Lark sighed.
“Perhaps we could move negotiations upstairs?”
Lark planted her tongue firmly in her cheek, concealing a smile.
“…Do the numbers make sense up there?”
Dario maintained a stoic expression.
“They do. In my experience.”
* * *
The Di Rossis lay in bed in silence after their lovemaking, Dario on his stomach with his eyes closed and Lark on her back, staring up at the ceiling. They had one hour before they needed to be at the venue, luckily only a few blocks away.
“Do you remember the first time we were here?” Lark broke the silence.
“Of course.”
“It was the first time you ever got angry with me.”
“I wasn’t angry, I was… lovesick,” he replied after a moment.
“I cried and cried in my bathtub the whole night after that.”
“You never told me that, carina.”
“I did. I tried to avoid you the rest of the trip. I didn’t even want to be alone with you again.”
“I am glad you failed, dolcezza.”
“Me too.”
Lark took his hand and placed it on her lower side. The two waited for signs of movement.
“He was just moving around,” Lark whined.
“He?”
“Pretty sure it’s a boy.”
“Do you remember when you said being with me makes you feel as though nothing is ahead of you?”
“When we were in Paris?”
“No. In New York. At fashion week.”
“I said that?”
“Yes.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You said living with me in ‘my big house’ was boring. The same day every day with nothing ahead of you.”
“I don’t remember that. At all.”
Dario smiled and let out a chuckle. He was expecting her to have many more trying emotional times once they married, but luckily Lark’s former reality simply faded further and further away like a dream. He felt he could appropriately take credit for it. Just when he was about to remove his hand the baby moved.
“There it is!”
“We should get going. Our public awaits,” he said. “Did you remember the dress?”
“Of course.”
Dario had made Lark a nude colored silk chiffon dress that was covered in sequins and as comfortable as it was elegant. When the parazzi pressed her for the designer she said, “It’s a Di Rossi original,” a teasing confirmation to the fashion line Dario was planning to debut next year. The couple took to their premier seats in the front row of the fashion show venue, Gino also in attendance by their side as two of Di Rossi’s premiere clients showed their collections. Lark’s phone buzzed and buzzed during the show, but the number was unrecognizable. Unless it was an emergency from home, Lark was not returning calls this evening.
After the show, the couple and Gino made the rounds, Lark interpreting for her husband wherever warranted, rubbing shoulders and elbows and doing business as always. The evening wore on and the Di Rossis made late dinner plans with some Parisian fashion elite while Lark checked in at home, and also checked her voice messages, of which there were three.
“Gino, dove Allodola?”
“On the terrace.”
“Something wrong?”
“Non lo so. I think she’s just checking on Matteo.”
Dario made his way through the crowd to where Lark was pacing on the terrace, one finger pressed into her free ear so she could better hear. Her brow was furrowed. His heart skipped a beat.
“Matteo?” he quickly asked. Lark just shook her head.
“Okay… is it possible she could meet me halfway?” Lark said to whoever was on the phone. Dario couldn’t conceive of what the context could be.
“I understand. I can be there in 24 hours. Thank you.”
Dario braced himself for whatever was happening. Unless she was going to say she was dying of heart failure, he was pretty sure he could endure it.
“That was child protective services. In America.”
“Child services?”
“My sister. She’s in custody. She’s been reported as a runaway for months, but no one can find my mother or her husband.”
“I see. How old is she now?”
“Fourteen, this August.”
“Va bene. You must go to her.”
“You know what that means, amore mio.”
“I do. Bring her here.”
“Are you sure? She’s been on her own, and I don’t know what kind of life she’s had, but if it’s anything like mine was, she will be difficult.”
“Allodola, is there another choice?”
“No.”
“Then we waste time discussing it. Go to her.”
“Matteo…”
“He will be fine. I will cut Germany short and go home tomorrow.”
Lark raised a hand to her forehead, her eyes doing a roll of exhaustion.
“You can do this. You were born to do this.”
“Thank you, Robert.”
He held her arms and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
“We chose each other, no? Now go, Allodola. Go get our family.”
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About the Author
C.L. Donley is a future New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of multicultural and interracial romance. Armed with a B.A. in English and M.A. in Writing, she is new to the romance game, having written her first novel, Amara’s Calling, after discovering the romance genre in September 2017. Her writing style is sophisticated yet simple, unaplogetically escapist and character driven. She likes to write loveable, redeemable and believable characters and place them in equally loveable, romantic and relatable settings and scenarios— removed from reality just enough so that the reader can properly escape, and even revisit!
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