Maybe she should just stop trying to please her. After all, in the long run did it matter whether or not Antonio’s mother resented her presence here? She had only obligated herself to six months. She might even find a way to shorten the time, if she finished her work here sooner. Once her job was done, she’d be free to leave Italy and she needn’t please anyone but herself.
And wasn’t that the most sensible way to run one’s life?
“Do not feel badly,” Angela said with a comforting touch on the arm. “In La Signora’s eyes, no one can replace La Principessa.”
Maria sat heavily on a kitchen chair as Angela rushed from the room with her mistress’s tray. “Well, that was reassuring,” she muttered.
Eight
Antonio paced the gleaming, gray-flecked marble floor of his office. He was furious, ready for battle.
At a knock on his door, two men walked in, caps humbly clutched in grimy hands. As was common in the region, his field hands carried shotguns strapped over their shoulders as they rode noisy Vespas along the back roads. As handy for picking off a few pigeons for dinner as to use for defense of property. The wolves that, at one time, had ravished sheep and goat herds, had been hunted all but to extinction. Only the two-legged variety remained.
“So, how did it happen?” Antonio demanded, speaking in their southern dialect.
Lucio, the senior of the two stepped forward like a soldier facing his general. “We were outside the house in Carovigno. One of the Serilos, Frederico I am sure, came out. I followed him. Gino stayed behind to watch Marco. We didn’t realize he’d given us the slip until you called.”
Then it was him, most probably, Antonio thought. “Have you seen Marco doing anything that might give us a clue what he’s up to?”
“Maybe nothing.” Gino shrugged. “They go to mercato, to their family’s shop down the road, or home. Sometimes to a bar. Nothing mysterious in that.”
“No,” Antonio agreed. “Nowhere else?”
“To the beach twice, the two of them. They prance along the sand in their Speedos, talk to the pretty girls. Sometimes, go off for a while with one. Non importa. The usual.” Gino’s eyes sparkled with shared male satisfaction.
So the Serilos had gotten lucky romantically, Antonio thought. What harm was there in that? It didn’t even hint at sinister intent.
But something told him to remain watchful.
“So, what do we do?” Lucio asked.
“Keep an eye on them a while longer. I want to know why Marco took the trouble to walk a half mile out of town and stand outside my house without talking to anyone.”
A man with a mind to do mischief might create trouble in the groves. Destroy a portion of the crop. Poison trees or soil. Who knew what the idiota had in mind.
He’d tell his field managers to be vigilant.
“There you two are!”
Maria looked up to see Antonio approaching through the garden.
She’d brought Michael outside to play near the fountain. They’d folded sheets of printer paper from her office to make little paper boats. Michael had delighted in sailing his miniature armada across the glistening blue pool, splashing waves to make them go faster. He’d thoroughly soaked himself, but the sun was warm and she knew he’d dry out in minutes.
“We’re sailing the high seas,” she explained.
“I see you are. Looks like a few of your vessels have sunk, Michael.”
The little boy splashed all the more energetically to demonstrate the game to his father. Another ship scuttled.
Maria lowered her voice. “Did you find out anything?”
“Not much. My watchdogs did lose Marco, so it’s possible that was him we saw at the gate. Why he’d be lurking around I have no idea.”
“Would he go so far as to break into the house?”
“Possibly. He stole before, why not again? My father’s coin collection is worth a great deal,” he thought out loud. “Then there are the paintings my grandfather collected over the years, hanging throughout the main house. Any one of them could bring six figures at auction, five on the black market. It’s possible he is watching the masseria to find the best time to make his entrance.”
“Who is watching us?” a sleep-thickened voice asked in Italian.
Maria spun around. Genevra Boniface stood in the path to the rose garden.
“You’re feeling better, I hope,” Maria said.
The woman ignored her. “Tonio, what is this watching and sneaking business about?”
“Nothing that should worry you, Mama. Marco Serilo has been seen around the property, we think. He caused Maria some concern the other day at market. We’re just keeping an eye on him.”
One heavy black eyebrow shot up. The woman turned to Maria. “He caused you concern. How is that?”
Maria sighed, sensing that no matter what she said, La Signora would find fault with it. “He was asking a lot of personal questions about the family.”
“Of course he asks after the family,” she snapped. “He used to work for us. Marco is a good boy. He only wants to know that we’re all well.”
Although she’d been prepared for the rebuttal, it still stung. “I didn’t mean to accuse him without justification. It just seemed odd, the types of questions.”
“Did he ask if I was well?” Genevra asked, switching without noticeable difficulty to English.
“Yes, he did. But he also wanted—”
The woman interrupted by throwing up her hands in a gesture of dismissal. “You see. He is a sweet, concerned boy. He got himself into trouble before. Boys do that. But he would like to be forgiven and come back to work for us. We could hire him to serve at the party, no?” She looked to her son for agreement.
“Mama, Marco is charming I’ll grant you. But he’s not honest, not to be trusted as a member of this household. He stole from us and from our staff. And he used my name for his own gain.”
“If Anna were here, she would stand up for him.”
Antonio’s face went as white as the marble bench on which Maria sat.
She held her breath, too shocked by the woman’s insensitivity to say anything at first. At last, she tried to find healing words for Antonio’s sake.
She turned to Genevra. “I’m sure your daughter-in-law was a very forgiving person, but—”
“More than that,” Genevra retorted. “Anna, she was the perfect wife. The perfect daughter. E bella, bella! So beautiful. She gave me the handsomest grandson.” She stroked Michael’s head lovingly as he ran past her, a soggy boat in paw.
Maria swallowed. The implication was clear enough.
Anna had been faultless; Maria was not. She would never live up to the memory of the departed princess, who could do no wrong. She felt the solid, reassuring weight of Antonio’s hand on her shoulder.
“Mama,” he said evenly, “we all loved Anna. But I don’t think, as good a person as she was, even she would have overlooked Marco’s indiscretions.”
“Perhaps,” Genevra allowed, then turned back to Maria. “I will take Michael with me now. Look at him, wet and cold, poor child. You should have taken care to keep him out of the water. His mother would never have neglected him so.”
“Mama!”
But she had already wrapped the little boy in the towel Maria had ready beside the fountain. The child screeched for his paper boats, but his grandmother energetically carried him off, chattering at him in Italian. Something about dirty toys and children dying of pneumonia from getting wet.
What a terrible woman, Maria thought to herself. But of course she couldn’t criticize Genevra in front of her son. “He was having such fun,” was all she could say.
Antonio put his arm around her. “Yes, he was. I’m sorry she was so harsh with you. Anna could do no wrong in her eyes.”
“Obviously.”
“I’ll speak with her about being less critical, especially with regard to Michael. If I’d let him sail boats in the fountain, she might have scolded me, but with a
laugh.”
Maria sighed. “She clearly feels threatened by me, although she shouldn’t.”
“Because, even if you tried, you couldn’t take me and Michael away from her?” There was a daring twinkle in his eyes.
She accepted the challenge. “If I wanted you, I could have you. And your adorable Michael would come in the bargain,” she boasted, not sure if she really believed her own words.
“Oh?” He laughed. “All you’d have to do is give us one of your pretty smiles, and we’d fall victim to your feminine wiles. Is that it?”
“Something like that.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him outrageously. Flirting was fun and easy with Antonio. And now, in the garden, in the middle of the day, it seemed safe enough.
Antonio folded his muscled arms over his chest and stood with feet planted wide, as if bracing himself for a linebacker’s block. “Give me your best shot.”
Maria’s cheeks warmed at the suggestion. Was he actually daring her to try to seduce him? “This is silly. I can’t play this game.”
“Of course you can,” he said, looking boyishly impish. She could see so much of Michael in him. An image of the cookie-in-fist rascal who had offered her his soggy treat. “You say you wish to find a husband and marry. Do you think that happens without some effort on the woman’s part? Without her using her most sensual charms?”
“I always thought marriage was the result of a natural and gradual coming together of two personalities, rather than a concerted effort to seduce.” She was beginning to worry now. Without Michael here with her, was daylight enough to protect her?
She looked around. Absolutely no one was within sight. Where were servants when you needed them? The garden was theirs alone.
She wasn’t afraid of Antonio. Not exactly. But being alone with him summoned up all sorts of treacherous feelings inside of her. And when he smiled at her, when that mellow, taunting tone in his voice came at her, all she could think of was that night when he’d brought her champagne and a lovely negligee. And he’d shown her how exciting making love could be.
Someday, she reminded herself.
Not now.
Please…not with a man who isn’t ready to share his life.
She looked up out of her troubling thoughts at Antonio. He seemed to be standing just as still as a moment before, but several paces closer. How had he done that? She frowned.
“What’s the matter, Maria? Not up to the challenge? What are you afraid of? We’re out in the middle of a garden. Any of my groundskeepers might come along any moment. You don’t think I’d risk being caught with my pants down, do you?”
She looked around again, running the tip of her tongue between suddenly parched lips.
Even though the garden seemed secluded, with hedges and rose bushes providing some measure of privacy, the house was still visible from where they stood. So was much of the rest of the property including the clusters of smaller villas, sheds and courtyards within the high stone walls. If she could see these places, anyone standing there might be able to see them.
“All right,” she said cautiously. “How do I know when I’ve won?”
“Ah!” He grinned, delighted that she’d taken up his gauntlet. “Let’s see now. You win if I should either be reduced to begging or—” He raised a finger to cut off her objections. “Or, if you should detect clear physical response to your seductive ways.” His glance dropped suggestively.
She shook her head, laughing. “This is going to be easy.”
Antonio stood at attention, looking absolutely serious. “I’m in complete control.”
As he’d pointed out, what harm was there when they were in such a safe location?
“All right,” she said, strolling around him, hands clasped behind her back. She studied him from his full dark head of hair to his nicely muscled biceps, tight butt and tanned feet in espadrilles. Quite an impressive male package, no argument there.
Maria stopped dead in front of him, stood as tall and straight as he. Slowly, she let a smile lift her lips, saw a responding tremor of his lips. But he cleared his throat and rearranged his mouth into a straight, uncompromising line.
“Almost,” she cooed. “What about this?” She took his hands in hers and brought them to her hips then linked her fingers up and behind his neck and swayed suggestively. “We could dance.”
“No music.” His voice was a trifle husky.
“I’ll hum.” She did, and she could almost feel his palms begin to sweat.
“You’re not playing fair,” he accused, lifting his hands a safe distance from her undulating midsection.
“All’s fair in love and seduction,” she teased.
“I suppose, but…Maria, maybe we shouldn’t…um… I didn’t expect you to—” He was following her hand as she brought it to her throat and started to unbutton the top two buttons of her blouse.
She had no intention of going any further than revealing the little swell of skin just above the curve of her lace bra. Compared to what women wore at the beach, it was nothing.
“Ah, dio!” Antonio moaned, apparently not thinking of beaches and bikinis.
She smiled, rather pleased with her effect on him. Maybe she wasn’t through with him yet.
Maria reached up behind his neck and pulled him down on the bench with her—below the line of shrubbery. Before he could react, she moved in so close that their lips were nearly touching. She blew a puff of air across his lips, teased a corner of his mouth with the tip of her tongue.
He groaned, swore…and fell on her, his kisses ravenous.
But she was ready for him.
Immediately, she brushed her hand down the front of his zipper, pressed it over the rigid shape beneath. “I’d say, that is evidence enough,” she whispered between his lips. “I win!”
Antonio’s eyes widened, darkened, pierced through her as she started to draw away from him. “You’re not going to just leave me like this!”
“As you said, Principe, this is far too public a place to be caught with your pants down.”
For the first time in her life, she felt the absolute, awesome, butt-kicking power of a woman over a man. What a discovery! She loved it!
Then his eyes flashed with that demonic, I’m-going-to-eat-you-up look.
She leapt away from him. “No, Antonio. It was a game, remember. And I have come to do a job.”
He didn’t move for a moment, then nodded, backed off two steps, turned and started to walk away. “Then I’d best find myself a long, cold shower.”
Giggling, Maria ran to catch up with him. “I’m sorry. That was cruel of me. But you set yourself up so perfectly. And I’ve never acted the tramp before. It was fun.”
“Fun?” He rolled his eyes, kept on walking. Stiffly.
Time to change the subject, she thought. “What party was your mother talking about?” she asked, forced to skip on every third step to keep up with Antonio’s long strides.
“I don’t know,” he grunted. “She mentioned something about hosting a reception for you when you arrived in Carovigno. To welcome you and introduce you to our friends in the area.”
“I can’t imagine she’d want to do that for me now.”
“No,” he said. “It does seem a little odd, given her attitude lately. But once committed to something, she rarely alters course. Maybe she feels it’s the right thing to do, even if she doesn’t totally approve of your being here.”
“Maybe,” Maria agreed, still somewhat skeptical. She supposed she’d find out soon enough.
In the meantime, there was too much work to be done to waste time worrying about the woman’s motives for throwing a party in her own home, if that’s what she chose to do.
Nine
As a boy, Antonio had never considered running away from home. Everything he’d ever wanted was right here in Carovigno and the surrounding Apulian countryside.
But now…with his mother plotting against the woman he’d hired to help him move his company into the twenty-f
irst century, with his heart and body at war over that very same woman, he could wish for nothing better than to escape to a place far, far away.
He stayed away from Maria as best he could. His body simply refused to listen to his brain when he was around her. He ached to touch her, even if she seemed to be paying no attention to him. He longed to stretch out on top of her, to feel himself slip silkily inside of her. No matter the time of day or night, he dwelt on her, missed her touch, her laughter.
He remembered as if only seconds had passed, the shine in her eyes when his hands wandered to forbidden places on her body.
He knew now what obsession meant.
It was several weeks later when he walked distractedly into the kitchen and found her there alone. He came up short, gritted his teeth, then put on a cheery smile for her benefit.
“Ciao! The caffè smells good.”
“Oh, hello,” she said, slipping her electronic notepad into her jeans pocket. “Yes, it does. Sophia only makes it in the morning, but over the years I’ve gotten used to keeping a cup on my desk all day long as I work. Afternoons, I’ve been making my own. Would you like some?”
“Si.”
She had just poured a fresh, steaming cup of fragrant, dark brew for each of them when Michael toddled into the kitchen, full speed. “Hello there,” she said.
“’ria!” he cried joyfully and wrapped his chubby arms around her knees, ignoring his father.
Antonio frowned. “I’m hurt. He doesn’t even know I exist when you’re around.”
“You had him pegged from the start. He’s just a flirt,” she said, laughing as she picked up the little boy. She hugged him to her, and he sat back and enjoyed the lovely picture the two of them made.
“Where is your nonna?” Antonio asked.
“Nonna!” Michael pointed in the direction he’d come.
A second later, Genevra appeared in the doorway, her face chalk-white, her eyes glazed over with pain. If he had sometimes wondered how much of a plea for attention the migraines might be, he didn’t doubt their authenticity now.
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