Falling for Italy Page 12

She wasn’t so convinced, but felt encouraged anyway.

  They took a cab and she listened surprised to Giovanni as he talked to the driver in Italian, probably giving him indications on how to reach his—their—house. She tried to tune her ear to catch even a single word, but in vain. She’d heard him speak Italian before, but not so much and so fast. It sounded so melodious and…sensual. To her amazement, she felt a twinge of admiring arousal. God, his tongue can turn me on in so many ways, she thought, shaking her head in private amusement.

  She looked in awe through the car’s windows at her new surroundings. The city was splendid, the buildings were beautiful and imposing, with a style and prestige like nothing she’d ever seen—veritable architectural gems. Her heart filled with pride and joy for being—or soon to becoming—a citizen of this treasure city.

  Giovanni had told her about Firenze—that’s how Florence was pronounced in Italian—and a little about its magnificent history. It was the place where Italian Renaissance had begun, the place that bore the imprint of the finest artists of all crafts and of all times, whose names had made history—Dante, Petrarch, Boccaccio, Brunelleschi, Donatello, Botticelli, Michelangelo, Leonardo and so many others. It was also the home of the Medicis, which she knew had been the most powerful and the best-known family in Italian history.

  Over the ages, Florentines had influenced worldwide culture, economy, art, religion, and architecture. They managed, with a population of barely sixty thousand citizens, to accomplish more than any other city in the world.

  She also knew opera had been invented in Florence, and that around the year 1300, a Pope—she didn’t remember which one—had contradicted Aristotle by saying the universe was made out of five elements, not four—earth, air, fire, water, and Florentines.

  She tended to agree. In just fifteen minutes or so since leaving the airport, they had almost reached the center of the city. Giovanni pointed out Brunelleschi’s Duomo, perhaps the most imposing and magnificent building dominating the Florentine skyline.

  “Its construction started in the year 1200 as an extremely challenging project,” he told her. “The dome was the largest ever built at the time, and the first major dome built in Europe since the two great domes of Roman times—the Pantheon in Rome and the Hagia Sophia in Constantinople. In front of it is the medieval baptistery, where every Florentine was baptized until modern times. I would’ve liked for our children to be baptized there,” he added, taking her hand and smiling into her eyes.

  The thought of having his children provoked an inexplicable shiver to ripple through her entire body, making her stomach flutter with what could only be joy, even anticipation.

  Oblivious to her inner turmoil, he continued telling her about The Duomo.

  “The two buildings’ design covers the transition from the Middle Ages to the Renaissance. In these past years, most of the important works of art from those buildings and from Giotto’s Bell Tower have been removed and replaced by copies. The originals are currently displayed in the Museum of the Works of the Duomo, just to the east of the Cathedral. We have over eighty museums here and I plan to take you to all of them,” he finished, winking at her.

  Being so popular on the list of touristic destinations, the city was quite crowded. While the buildings were pretty—some of them modern, some of them elegant villas with an old aristocratic air—they were all close together. So Giovanni had bought a house somewhere in a marginal, upscale neighborhood, where the properties were larger, ensuring more privacy and quiet. He’d told her he disliked crowds. When he was home, he wanted peace and silence. After days of office meetings and hours of talking and planning, he felt the need to detach himself from all that.

  She could relate to his mentality perfectly. Although she couldn’t live without crowds, noise, shops and traffic, her flat had been her refuge. Now she would have a house, through the windows of which her lover had told her one could only see the backyard, with over a mile of grass and trees—their own private corner of nature. It sounded like Heaven.

  It took over half an hour in the cab, navigating alternately on narrow winding streets and wide highways, but finally Giovanni told something to the driver, indicating a sideway street. There were just a few houses here, at considerable distances from one another. It was obvious this was a residential area. Sonia was impressed.

  The taxi stopped in front of a massive, antique-looking iron gate, beyond which stretched a short driveway. They climbed out and Giovanni paid the driver, who got their luggage out of the car’s trunk. Sonia looked around, breathing deeply. The air had a refreshing texture, so much different than the thick, foggy London air. It was warmer, cleaner. A pale December sun glowed above the red rooftop of the two-story house, painted an elegant beige.

  So this was her new home. Giovanni pressed a code into the keypad next to the gate and it glided open.

  “Welcome home, amore mio,” he said smiling, and urged her to move forward to the house. “What do you think so far?”

  “It’s gorgeous,” she whispered, approaching the old-looking stone sculpture facing the house. Later she discovered it was in fact an artesian fountain, and the sculpture was a well-executed representation of Venus, surrounded by water lilies disposed in a wide circle.

  “It’s an extravagancy and one of the reasons I bought this house. It’s over two hundred years old,” Giovanni informed her as they passed by the fountain, walking to the house.

  She gaped at him, then at the building. It didn’t look two hundred years old, but she supposed it had been impeccably kept. Bricks, unevenly arranged in places, gave its history even more weight. Numerous rounded, semi-circular windows covered by dark red shutters and windowsills decorated with pretty flowerpots sat close together. She could also see two balconies on the upper floor, with lacy-looking structures that fascinated her.

  The short front-walk was a path of worn, elegant stone, leading to the massive dark red front door, which was made from wood. Above it coiled graceful ivy branches, now bared by winter. On each side of the door, two enormous flowerpots holding some exotic-looking shrubs kept the spring touch alive and green, along with neatly tended beds of evergreens.

  “It’s like something out of a classy catalog!” she remarked in delight and saw the pleased look on his face. She knew he was anxious about her opinion and her blissful sigh conveyed how much she loved her new home.

  He smiled broadly. Taking his keys out of his pocket, he unlocked the front door and opened it for her. When she would have stepped in, he stopped her with a gesture. He put their luggage down and swept her up in his arms, laughing when she giggled in joy and confusion.

  “What are you doing?”

  He kissed her lips, and then replied, “It’s a custom that a new bride should cross the threshold of her new home in the arms of her groom. We’re not married yet, but this is a huge step for both of us,” he went on seriously. “Indulge me, will you?”

  She cupped his face between her palms and kissed him, overwhelmed by his unexpected sweetness and the significance of this moment.

  “Okay, amore, let’s go into our new home.”

  He stepped into a small foyer, simply furnished. From there, a wide arched opening led to an enormous living room that managed to achieve the perfect balance between glamorous showcase and comfortable home. Seemingly miles of wooden polished floor shone in the sunlight—a warm honey brown, like most of the elegant furniture. A massive wooden staircase meandered upstairs, its rail decorated with some white fluffy tinsel, and more flowerpots were scattered on the bottom steps.

  Sonia’s face split in a grin so large she felt it reached her ears. She whooped in delight, going around the room, admiring the paintings and statuettes that artfully decorated the walls and sat on tables with carved legs. Under the tall staircase she discovered a cozy corner looking like something detached from a fairytale—a big comfortable sofa with a small coffee table in front of it, facing a TV tucked in a wall-niche. She gasped in pleasure and ran t
oward it, collapsing on the soft leather cushions of the sofa, nearly sinking among them.

  “This is fabulous, love!” she exclaimed animated. “How did you get this idea?”

  He walked slowly to her, a broad smile lighting his handsome features.

  “Well, Lucia showed me a picture with a similar arrangement in a magazine. She’s into all that decorative stuff,” he added gesticulating vaguely. “I really liked the concept though, so I borrowed the idea. I suppose this is what you’d call a den.”

  “Doesn’t matter what you call it, it’s a splendid hidden refuge. I can just picture us tonight, curled here in the dark, watching a movie with Guccio…”

  She stopped abruptly, looking around.

  “I just remembered. Where is he?”

  “Lucia and Paolo will bring him shortly,” he said and stretched out a hand to help her rise. “Come on, let me show you the rest.”

  He took her to the kitchen first—a large sunny room with light brown counters and a round table surrounded by padded, comfortable-looking chairs. She studied it cautiously.

  “You said you—we—have a housekeeper, right? Does she also cook?”

  He laughed indulgently, looking at her circumspect expression.

  “Yes, amore, she also cooks. After the spicy experience we had with your first—and hopefully last—attempt at cooking, I think we’d better let her do that part. Or, if you want to learn, have her teach you the basics.”

  She grimaced.

  “Um… We’ll see about that. Better show me the rest.”

  They climbed the sumptuous stairs, which ended in a hallway bordered by several doors. She opened the first one to the left, finding with dismay an empty room.

  “Only our bedroom is furnished,” he explained, leading her to the end of the hallway. “I’ll leave you the pleasure of decorating and furnishing the rest of three rooms. Think you can handle that?”

  She perked up.

  “Sure I can. I’m really good at it too. I’ve done a great job with my flat.”

  “You sure did, principessa,” he said, patting her butt.

  “Principessa? That means princess, right?”

  “How did you know?”

  “That’s easy. I can guess what it means because it resembles the word in English,” she replied while opening the door to their bedroom.

  She stopped dead with an intake of breath, staring into the room. It seemed bigger than her entire flat, looking like something out of a dream, in the sunlight streaming through the shutters. An enormous bed—fit for a king, not for any mortal—drew her attention at once. The headboard was made from sculptured wood and a small army could have easily slept in it, lavishing in its softness. Her gaze moved slowly around the room, noting the other furnishings—an enormous armoire, a beautifully ornate vanity with a large mirror and numerous drawers, as well as some other small practical pieces of furniture.

  She turned to him, puzzled and not a bit suspicious.

  “What is an ex-bachelor doing with such a feminine piece of furniture?” she asked, staring at the elegant vanity, then back at him.

  He smiled sheepishly, looking down at his shoes for a moment.

  “I had Lucia buy this for you. I called her day before yesterday, after the wedding, and asked her to buy something pretty for the new lady of the house.” He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Do you like it?”

  Her eyes dampened as she looked at him. She stepped into his embrace, whispering, “God, Giovanni, you’re simply…perfect. Thank you! Thank you for being so considerate, so caring, so perfect,” she repeated, feeling like a fool. But she was a happy fool. And the luckiest woman on Earth.

  Hours later, they sat in what Sonia called the den—the heavenly refuge hidden under the staircase—sprawled on the soft sofa, with Guccio lying between them. His hairy head rested on her lap, and from time to time he sighed in absolute satisfaction, nuzzling her hand with his nose.

  She’d fallen in love the minute Lucia and her husband had stepped in and the shaggy brown dog had charged toward Giovanni. He had been right when he’d told her Guccio resembled Scooby Doo to perfection. He even had two black spots on his back and his muzzle was a bit elongated, like that of the charming lovable cartoon character.

  After lavishing Giovanni with canine proofs of joy, the dog had spotted Sonia. She’d called him to her in a gentle voice and he’d come immediately. After a split second of cautiousness, he literally jumped on her, licking her hands and face, industriously sweeping the floor with his short, brown tail.

  Since that moment, they couldn’t stay away from each other. She was stunned by how much happiness one could derive from such a simple thing as having a pet.

  Now she stroked his ears and he groaned softly in sleep, burying his nose deeper against her stomach. Giovanni smiled and stretched out a hand to caress her hair. She rested her cheek in his palm and sighed deeply.

  “I’m so happy, amore. You can’t possibly imagine how happy I am.”

  “I bet I can. That dog has completely stolen your heart. Poor thing, he’s had such a rough time. When I took him from the shelter, he was barely cured. They said someone had beaten him to an inch of his life.”

  She shuddered and tears nearly came into her eyes. She hugged the dog even tighter, trying to make him feel loved, safe and secure.

  “How could anyone do that? How could they hurt an innocent animal?”

  Her eyes narrowed as she went cold as ice.

  “Giovanni, I’m telling you this in all seriousness. If I could get away with it, I’d shoot with absolutely no trace of guilt all the sick fucks that are cruel to animals or to other human beings. I would shoot them in the gut and see them die painfully and slowly. And I would enjoy it!” she finished, meaning it with all her heart.

  He stroked Guccio’s back gently.

  “I relate perfectly to that, cara. I would do the same. People who mistreat animals are sick, truly sick in their minds. Those kinds of people don’t deserve to live or reproduce and create even more fucked up monsters, perpetuating this vicious circle.”

  They sat in silence and darkness, illuminated only by the TV screen and the lights coming from outside through the windows. They were watching an American romantic comedy. Sonia discovered that listening to the movie lines in English while reading the Italian subtitles helped her catch a lot of Giovanni’s language.

  Lucia had also promised she would give her lessons every day. The woman wasn’t exactly fluent in English, but knew the basics, like almost everyone in Florence. After all, as Giovanni had pointed out, the city was a cocktail of tourists and you could hear every language of the world if you walked the streets long enough. Besides, it was a simple matter for Lucia to point out an object and tell Sonia what it was called in Italian.

  Sonia yawned and stretched her legs, feeling numb from sitting under Guccio’s hairy weight for so long.

  “Let’s go to bed, baby,” she urged her lover. “I’m getting sleepy and it’s been a long day. Besides, I can’t follow this anymore.” She gestured to the screen. “My eyes cross each time I try to read the subtitles.”

  “Okay. I feel a bit tired myself, but I thought you might want a hot bath before sleep,” he said and got to his feet.

  “That sounds marvelous! Do you think Guccio needs to…go outside or something?”

  Giovanni gave a short laugh.

  “Does he look like he wants to go outside, in the cold?” he asked and they both glanced down at the sleeping dog, comfortably cuddled on the sofa.

  “I guess not.”

  She lifted the dog’s head off her thigh gently and eased herself to her feet.

  “In any case, he has a small doggie door in the back, built exactly for that purpose. He’s trained to use it to go outside when need comes. I’ll show it to you tomorrow. Now come to bed,” he said, sliding one arm around her waist.

  They climbed the stairs in semi-darkness and made their way to the bedroom. Sonia collapsed on the enormo
us bed, rolling onto her stomach and stretching her limbs in ecstasy.

  “God, I love this bed, baby! I can’t wait to sleep in it.”

  “I can’t wait to make love with you in it,” he said, his voice husky and evocative.

  Her lips stretched in a slow smile as she looked up at him.

  “Mmmm… Go and fill that tub, will you? I guess we won’t be so tired after a hot bath…”

  He disappeared through a door at the far end of the room. She hadn’t seen the bathroom yet, being too busy with all the unpacking and socializing when Lucia and Paolo arrived to bring the dog.

  She stood lazily and began taking off her clothes, while she listened to the water running in the bathroom. She was just digging through the closet to find a pair of pajamas when Giovanni came back in the room. She glanced at him over her shoulder.

  He slowly surveyed the sight of her naked body, his eyes gleaming in the low light coming from their bed lamp. He walked toward her and ran his hands over her bare back, trailing kisses down her neck.

  “Now this is something I’ve dreamed about ever since I met you, amore. To have you naked in my bedroom, in my bed.”

  She arched her back to give his skilled mouth better access, as her skin bloomed into goose bumps, stirred by his hot breath.

  “I guess I’m not so tired after all,” she whispered, combing her fingers through his short hair.

  He laughed softly, lifting his head to look at her.

  “Neither am I, after all. I think our bath is ready, cara. Go ahead, I’ll join you in a moment,” he urged her, patting his hand over her butt.

  She kissed his lips quickly, and then headed toward the bathroom. She stopped short in the doorway.

  “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed on a gust of breath, her eyes widening.

  The room resembled an opulent Oriental pleasure palace, done in soft tones of light brown. The tiles seemed dusted with gold, making the immense round tub filled with bubbly, scented water look like a small pool in a desert oasis. The circular lights decorating the ceiling spread a warm, honey-like glow and the two champagne glasses waiting on the edge of the tub completed the seductive atmosphere.