Falling for Italy Read online

  “So, do you want to be my wife? Live in the monotony of waking up next to me for the rest of your life? Forever?”

  He added the last word as a final test to the strength of her feelings for him.

  She smiled faintly up at him.

  “Giovanni, I couldn’t imagine anything more horrible than not waking up next to you for the rest of my life. I never thought I’d say this, but yes, I want to marry you. I want it more than anything. Even more than living in Hawaii—and that has been my biggest dream so far.”

  He burst into a relieved laugh, amused yet still shaken by the emotional charge of the moment. He touched her bruised lips with his fingers, whispering, “I’m sorry, my love. I acted like a mad man, but…I was truly going mad with the uncertainty of your feelings. I swear to you, Sonia, I’ll make you the happiest woman on Earth. And I’ll spend every day of my life cherishing you.”

  “I know how you’ve felt, Giovanni. I’ve been slowly going mad myself thinking you’ll soon go away, return to your life and forget I ever existed. But I wasn’t going to start picking up the pieces of my shattered heart until you left. I love you so much sometimes it hurts. Right here,” she said and, taking his hand, placed it on her heart.

  He kissed her with more meaning and gentleness than he’d ever had, then lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed, lying down beside her.

  “I’m sorry for the necklace,” he said, undressing her slowly, kissing every inch of skin gradually revealed, marveling at her beauty, that was now his.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered, sliding off his sweater, lowering her head to frantically run her hands, lips and tongue over him.

  “I’ll buy you…a truck full…of pearls,” he gasped, drunk with love and desire, helping her remove his jeans. He pushed her onto her back and caressed her naked body, feeling she burned for him as hot as he burned for her. The sense of possession and pure lust was nearly choking him as he slipped inside her fast and strong, holding her lips prisoners under his, catching her every moan and gasp in his own chest. His thrusts were powerful and demanding, proving to her the depth of his possession, knowing the same fierce passion echoed in her body, mind and soul. She was completely his, forever.

  * * * *

  Sonia woke up with an absurd feeling of absolute joy. She opened her eyes and saw Giovanni sleeping next to her, his face relaxed, his breathing steady and slow. She studied her lover in the dim dawn light, marveling at this treasure she and only she owned.

  His face was beautiful, managing to look elegant and masculine at the same time. Dark stubble covered his jaw, making his natural olive skin look even darker. His lips were full and firm, and when he stretched them into a sleeping smile, the shallow dimples in his cheeks deepened. His eyes were closed, framed by black eyelashes and shadowed by equally dark, well-defined eyebrows.

  She loved his every feature, every squint line at the corners of his eyes. She couldn’t yet believe this man was truly hers, that he was going to be her husband. One thing she knew for sure, she would have given anything to wake up next to him every single morning of her life. His chest rose and fell steadily and she couldn’t help placing her hand on his heart, to feel the warm vibration of his breathing.

  He opened his eyes idly and watched her for a moment, his dark gaze still clouded by dreams. He smiled and gathered her against him, putting his arms around her, kissing her forehead. In a voice rusty with sleep, he said, “Ti voglio bene, amore mio.”

  She lifted her gaze, confused, not understanding but guessing the meaning of those words in his melodious native tongue.

  “It means I love you, doesn’t it?” she asked. When he nodded, she pleaded, “Tell me how to say it back to you.”

  He stroked her hair softly and said, “Anch’io ti amo, mio caro.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “I love you too, my darling.”

  She repeated the words in Italian, feeling awkward, but Giovanni taught her how to say it right. She was eager to learn at least the basics of his language, eager to please him as no woman ever had. When she told him that, he smiled.

  “You already do, princess. You make me happy just by loving me.”

  He hesitated a moment, then asked, “Where would you like to get married?”

  She rose on one elbow to look at him, puzzled.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t exactly had time to think about it,” she teased him and smiled, but immediately winced, feeling her lips swollen and bruised. Giovanni looked pained and ashamed. He lowered his gaze for a moment, before touching her lips ever so gently with the tip of one finger.

  “Sonia, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened to me last night. I think I went a little crazy. I swear to you I will never, never hurt you again,” he vowed, accentuating the words.

  She shook her head.

  “Please, don’t blame yourself. I provoked you. What I said was terrible and…let’s just forget about it, please.” She nestled against his chest, feeling safe, protected and more fulfilled than she’d ever been.

  “I don’t really have any ties here,” she went on. “As you know, I have no family. The only thing I have is my job, but I can do it anywhere. The kids will be sad if I leave, but I’ll make sure they’ll be assigned to another good trainer. So, if you want us to marry in Italy and live there, I would love that.”

  He lifted her chin with his index finger, gazing deeply into her eyes, searching for reassurance and certainty.

  “Are you sure, baby? Because we could live here if you want. We can even move to Hawaii, if that’s what you like. I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth. Whatever makes you happy.”

  She laughed.

  “I don’t know if I’d actually want to live in Hawaii. But I definitely want us to go there, maybe for our honeymoon if you’d like. I really think I should love Italy though. It’s going to be harder for me to learn the language.”

  “It’s piece of cake. I’m going to be your teacher. We can start right now with the basics.”

  “Meaning?”

  He smiled wickedly and pushed the covers aside, rolling on top of her.

  “Meaning some very naughty words, like…”

  He started kissing his way down her body, as he spoke in Italian—no doubt demonstrating the meaning of each word. When he passed her navel, she was beyond listening, having just enough presence of mind to say on a gasp, “You can keep this up until I’m eighty. I’m a very, very slow learner.”

  * * * *

  The house was silent when Giovanni entered, leaving his keys on the coffee table in the living room. Not even Pirata appeared to greet him.

  “Anybody home?” he shouted, his voice echoing loudly off the walls.

  “Up here!” came his sister’s voice from upstairs.

  He took the stairs two at a time, feeling energized and light-hearted as a teenager. He found Linda in her bedroom, her door ajar. She was standing in front of the mirror, dressed in what could only be her wedding gown.

  He stopped short in the doorway, admiring his baby sister, aware more than ever that she was a gorgeous woman. Her dress was simple, white, strapless, tight at her waist, from where a white cloud of miles of lace flowed to the ground. On her head she wore a silver tiara sprinkled with diamonds.

  He whistled, truly impressed and awed.

  “Dio mio, you look splendid!” he said in their maternal language and she turned to him smiling brightly, happiness imprinted on her every feature.

  “Do you like it, my darling?” she asked and did a graceful pirouette, looking indeed like a fairytale queen.

  He smiled back, a different kind of emotion gathering in his chest. He was really getting soft.

  “I love it. You are truly gorgeous, cara. Gerard is a lucky man. And this time you scored big too.”

  Her eyes clouded a bit and he cursed himself for reminding her of her unsuccessful previous marriage with Tony Barella, an Italian bullying bastard whom he disliked from the day he’
d met him.

  “I’m sorry, amore. I didn’t want to spoil your mood by reminding you of that asshole.”

  “It’s okay. He’s so insignificant right now I can’t even remember what he looked like.”

  They laughed together, the celebration atmosphere back.

  “So tomorrow is the big day, huh?”

  “Yeah.” She turned to the mirror and started fastening her diamond earrings. “Thank God you showed up. You don’t seem to live here anymore. You spend more time with Sonia than you do with your own family,” she teased him.

  He cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his jeans’ pockets.

  “Linda, Sonia and I are getting married.”

  She stopped dead, and then whirled around, her mouth agape. It took her a good while to utter a sound.

  “Are… Are you serious?”

  “Very serious,” he replied, looking straight into her rounded blue eyes.

  She sat down on the chair next to her vanity, as though trying to absorb this unprecedented information. Eventually, she asked, “When did this happen? And how?”

  In spite of her expression, he laughed.

  “You should know better how these things happen, sis!”

  She wasn’t amused. He went on. “I’m in love with her, Linda. It just happened. I know she’s the woman I want to spend my life with.”

  Linda looked at him stunned, but a thoughtful expression came onto her face.

  “What about her? Does she share your feelings?”

  He felt somewhat irritated.

  “Of course she does. That’s why she’s marrying me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  His jaw tightened, but he tried to control his temper.

  “If you’re insinuating she’s after my money, you’re wrong. She loves me for who I am, not for my bank account. Or don’t you think I’m man enough to make a woman love me for what I am?”

  She rose then and went to him, cupping his face between her small palms. She looked at him intently, love and tenderness radiating from her eyes.

  “Oh, fratello mio, you are the best man I know. Alongside Gerard,” she added smiling quickly. “But I’ve known you all of my life. I’ve always thought you’re the most handsome, the smartest, simply the best. It’s natural for me to be possessive and protective, to think no woman is worthy of you. I’m sorry,” she said on a sigh. “I liked Sonia very much and, honestly, I think she’s in love with you too.”

  “You do? Why?” he asked intrigued, taking her hands in his.

  “When she came to dinner she seemed so tough, you know, like those tough bitches with big guns you see in movies,” she told him, making him grin. “But when she looked at you, her eyes softened and sort of…lit up. I think the only word I could use to describe the way she looked at you is adoringly. Forgive me. I was jealous and that made me selfish,” she admitted, lowering her head, just as she used to do when they were children and she got upset over something, sticking out her lower lip. He’d never been able to resist that cute little gesture, which melted his heart.

  He hugged her tightly, kissing her forehead.

  “It’s okay, cara, I understand. I was cautious about your French lover at first, remember?”

  “When I first told you about him, you asked me if he was good in bed,” she reminded him dryly.

  “And you still haven’t told me, not until this day!”

  They laughed together, happy in their present bubble of joy.

  Suddenly, she looked up at him.

  “Did you buy her a ring? Giovanni, tell me you haven’t asked a woman to marry you without a ring.”

  He let her go and looked at his shoes.

  “Err, no… It was all kind of sudden. I wasn’t planning to ask her last night, so I wasn’t prepared.”

  Then a thought struck him and he added, “Maybe you could help me pick up a ring.”

  “When?”

  “Now.”

  “Now?” she exclaimed perplexed. “But I have a thousand things left to do—”

  “Oh, come on, sis,” he pleaded, already taking off her diamond tiara. “Help me do this right. It won’t take long.”

  “Won’t take long?” she repeated, butting his hands away. “Shows just how much you know about picking an engagement ring.”

  Still, she started taking down her hair, while he admired her own classy engagement ring, which she wore on the fourth finger of her left hand.

  “Well, the Frenchman’s got good taste, I’ll give him that,” he remarked, nodding at her ring when she looked at him for clarification.

  She smiled.

  “Yeah. I’m a lucky woman. We’re both lucky, fratello mio.”

  They smiled at each other, and then he remembered something.

  “Linda, there’s another thing I forgot to tell you. I—we—decided to go home, to Florence, right after your wedding. We want to spend the holidays at home.”

  She stopped fussing with her dress and lifted her head. He saw tears shimmering in her eyes as she watched him, with a mix of sorrow and wonder in her gaze.

  “You’re leaving so soon? God, I can’t believe my big brother is becoming a family man! It’s so strange. So many changes, so fast…”

  In spite of her smile, tears rolled down her cheeks. He embraced her tightly, whispering comfort words in her hair. Maybe soon he’d hear Sonia talk to him in his own beloved language—the language of his ancestors.

  “Don’t cry, cara. We’ll be visiting one another every month if you like,” he said, stroking her back. “You should be happy for me, the way I am for you.”

  “But I am happy, Giovanni,” she replied, and he saw the truth in her teary eyes. “These are tears of joy, my love. I know I’m not losing you. Sonia is the luckiest woman on Earth.”

  She wiped her eyes brusquely and, with shooing motions, said, “Let me change and hide this dress, so Gerard doesn’t see it. Then we’ll go shopping. We’ll buy your woman the most gorgeous and expensive diamond we can find in London.”

  Chapter Nine

  Sonia was a complete no-talent in the kitchen. She could actually burn frozen pizza. However, tonight she was making an unprecedented effort to prepare dinner for Giovanni. After she seriously debated ordering food from the corner restaurant and passing it as her own accomplishment, she abandoned that thought. He had to know from the beginning what he was getting himself into by marrying her.

  Marrying. Marriage. The words still sounded foreign, provoking shivers and an odd feeling in her stomach. She’d never in her life considered becoming somebody’s wife, yet here she was now, the fiancée of a super Italian stud, the most amazing man she’d ever met. Not to mention he was the world’s best lover and he was loaded with money. Truth be told, she didn’t give a flip about that last part. She would’ve married him with the same love and enthusiasm if he’d been poor. She smiled, gazing dreamily through the window, feeling happier than she’d ever been. For the first time in her life she felt accomplished, needed. She had a purpose and a reason to live, not just exist contentedly as she had for twenty-nine years.

  Shaking her head in awe at the unexpected turn her life had taken in just a couple of short weeks, she got down to the terrifying business of cooking. She had researched on Google the easiest recipes to prepare and decided on Chicken Cacciatore. She wanted to make something traditionally Italian to impress her future husband.

  After praying to God—and whoever else was listening—that she wouldn’t screw up, she got to work, placing the printed recipe right in front of her on the kitchen counter. She analyzed the raw chicken breasts in amazement and some disgust. She’d always liked to think that chickens—along with all good food—grew in supermarkets and restaurants. But imagining the piece of meat in her hand as a living beast made her a little sick. Holding the slices with two fingers, she started sautéing them, at least she hoped that was what she was doing.

  She sprinkled some spices over the meat, poured white wine in the pan and thr
ew it into the oven, following the cooking instructions more religiously than she’d ever complied with the Ten Commandments.

  She prepared the sauce, being careful at the same time not to burn the chicken. In the end, all crumpled and sweaty, her kitchen looking like after a bloody massacre, she proudly tasted the results of her first culinary attempt.

  Her eyes watered a bit when she sampled the sauce, she’d probably exaggerated with the paprika, but she told herself a real man could handle spicy food.

  “It’s not too bad,” she encouraged herself loudly, looking around as though expecting confirmation from the kitchen utensils. She could really use a pet. She’d fallen madly in like with Pirata, Linda’s cat. Giovanni had told her about Guccio—the dog he’d adopted—and she was truly excited about meeting him. A new house and a new life awaited her. Instead of being scared, she looked at this new chapter of her life like an adventure. As long as Giovanni would be by her side, nothing possibly could go wrong.

  She decided to clean the kitchen later, the effort of cooking had been enough for one day. Instead, she went to take a bath, leaving the food in the oven so it would stay warm until Giovanni was supposed to arrive. He’d called to let her know he’d be there late, around seven. It was barely six, so she relaxed into the steamy hot water, under fragrant inches of bubbly foam. The bathroom window was small, but she could still see the snowflakes drifting lazily down. Their dreamy routine made her eyelids droop and she felt herself dozing off, carried gently on the wings of sleep.

  * * * *

  Giovanni let himself in with the key Sonia had given him, holding a bottle of the most expensive champagne he could find. He called her name as he took off his shoes in the foyer. Not getting any reply, he stuck his head in the kitchen, discovering a shocking mess. Judging by the look and the smell of the place, his fiancée had actually cooked something—an unprecedented situation since he’d known her. No food was in sight though, and he didn’t take the time to snoop around.

  The living room was deserted, as was the bedroom. He began thinking she wasn’t at home, but he opened the bathroom door and glanced through the crack. There she was, lying in the tub, only her dark head emerging from the clouds of bubble and steam.