Captivated By Her Italian Boss

скачать книгу бесплатно


In between his studies and work on the farm, Davide had taken to writing. Late at night and before dawn, he had let his knowledge of history, his culture and his imagination combine and transform into the fictional story of the daughter of a Bourbon lord, who had become captivated with the ideals of General Giuseppe Garibaldi in his quest to oust the Spanish Bourbon regime and unify the South with the rest of Italy. The girl had fallen in love with one of Garibaldi’s soldiers during the revolution and successful ousting of the Bourbons, and had abandoned her family and relinquished her status to elope with him in the mysterious Aspromonte mountain range in Calabria.

Writing this story had been bittersweet, and his hand had sometimes trembled with emotion as he created the scenes between the two lovers. His protagonist, Serena, had turned out to be an Italian version of Neve, dark-haired but with the same fair skin and blue-green eyes that were not often seen in the South.

Davide had made Serena everything he had fantasized about Neve before she had crushed his illusions...and Vittorio was the name he had called the man who had captured her heart.

Davide gave a harsh laugh. What a fool he had been eight years ago. A romantic fool.

After first catching sight of Neve on that balcony, he had used every excuse possible to walk by. He had had asked his friend Agostino, whose mother had been working as a housekeeper at the Villa Morgana, to keep him informed of any excursions Neve’s family was planning, and Davide would innocently show up around that time. Just to catch sight of Neve.

When he had had the good fortune of first spotting her on the balcony, he had dared to hold his gaze for longer than a casual glance. And to his delight, after gazing away shyly, she had returned it. But then, with each subsequent walk-by, she had attempted a quirky smile, her face flushing like a ripe peach.

After a couple of days Davide had made the bold move of crossing the road to walk on the same side of the villa on his way home from working on the farm. And then later, once he had showered and changed, he had returned. The local bakery was just down the street from the villa, and this had become his excuse to walk by every day.

ZioFrancesco had commented about Davide’s sudden sweet tooth, for Davide was bringing home a bag of brioche filled with custard one day, or a few marzipan fruit cookies or hazelnut biscotti the next day. Davide couldn’t very well reveal the real reason for his purchases to his uncle; he had shared his feelings only with Agostino, who had revealed the girl’s name to him.

When Agostino had told him one evening that Neve’s mother was planning an outing to the sea, Davide’s stomach had churned with anticipation. He would go, too! He had convinced Agostino to join him, for it would have looked odd for him to show up alone on the beach used by the Valdoro locals. They had set out on Agostino’s Vespa and had spent the morning alternately sunning and swimming, with Davide trying to keep his observations of Neveas unnoticeable as possible.

He and Agostino had laid out their beach towels a short distance from Neve and her mother, who had rented an umbrella and had brought a picnic basket. Davide’s heart had started to pound when Neve, still unaware of his presence, had removed her beach wrap and started to apply sunscreen to her slender arms and legs. She was wearing a blue two-piece swimsuit with pink polka dots. He had smiled; she had had a thing for polka dots, obviously, and they had suited her something crazy.

He had felt the sun and the inner heat suddenly get to him, and slapping Agostino on the arm, he had challenged him to a race out to the third marker in the water, indicating one hundred meters.

“Race you there and back,” he had urged. “I’m burning up.”

They had splashed their way back to shore, with Davide winning by three meters. Laughing, they had dried off and collapsed on their beach towels. That was when Davide had looked across and realized Neve was watching him. Her mother had been busy laying out the picnic food. Had Neve seen the whole race? Self-consciously, he had given her a nod and after checking to make sure her mother was still occupied, he had waved.

She had waved back and seemed self-conscious herself, looking around as if to see if anyone had noticed her wave to Davide. Tossing her hair back, she had tiptoed quickly on the hot beach sand and had ventured a little way into the water before immersing herself completely in a graceful dive.

It had all happened in slow motion. The sights and sounds around Davide had blurred, and all he had been conscious of was Neve, her lithe body ascending from her dive with the sun reflected in every glistening drop on her skin. And when she had shaken her head and sent a rainbow spray around her, his breath had caught in his throat, and he had known in the deepest reaches of his soul that he had fallen in love with this bewitching sea nymph. An impossible love that could never be returned.

The realization had overwhelmed him. How was he going to deal with this? Agostino had told him earlier that Neve’s visit to Valdoro would end in a couple of days, and then she and her mother would be returning to Canada. He had felt a series of unbearable twinges in his heart from wanting Neve but knowing his desire could not be reciprocated. Fate wouldn’t allow it. Davide had immediately felt deflated, already anticipating the impending loss... Neve would be gone tomorrow, and he would be left with this torturous flame in his chest.

He had to meet her.

The thought had made his breath falter and his heart thump erratically. If he couldn’t have anything else with Neve, at the very least he had wanted a few moments with her. A moment, even. To tell her how he felt, and to hear her response. His gut had told him that she had felt something, too... He had seen it in her eyes.

It had been too much to hope that Neve had fallen in love with him, as well, but Davide had been prepared to accept that. Or at least, he thought he had been. Some primeval instinct had been telling him that he just had to let her know, even if it was the last time he saw her lovely face.

He had stolen a last glance in Neve’s direction. She had had her back to him as she and her mother enjoyed their picnic lunch. Unable to bear staying at the beach any longer, he had given Agostino a nudge and they had shaken off their beach towels and headed back to Valdoro. While cooling off with a gelato at a bar near the town square, Davide had devised a plan to meet with Neve. He would write Neve a note, and Agostino would make an excuse to show up at the villa with the pretense of talking to his mother and figure out a way to deliver it personally to Neve.

With any luck, Neve would agree to meet him at the bakery down the street, where they could sit down and he could treat her to a cappuccino and a pastry while divulging his feelings to her. It would be a perfectly respectable meeting place that would look like a casual encounter to anyone who might be frequenting the shop.

* * *

Staring across to the twinkling indigo sky, Davide felt a sharp twinge as he recalled how stupidly love-struck he had been, waxing poetic in a note that now seemed ridiculous with his naive and laughable choice of words.

Signorina Neve,

Only our eyes have met, and forgive me for being bold, but you have pierced my heart with your beauty. I feel that it is in our destiny to meet. With all my respect, I wish to see you before you depart for Canada. I only ask for a few moments of your time so I can express what is in my soul. My intentions are honorable...

If you can grant me this gift, I will be forever indebted. I will be at Michelina’s Bakery after it reopens later this afternoon.

D.

Davide felt a tingle along his nerve endings as he thought about his imminent reunion with the girl who had so thoroughly put him in his “place” with her harsh reply. How would he react? How would she?His jaw clenched. Maybe he shouldn’t have hired Neve Wilder so quickly. Maybe she had every right to know who her boss was before agreeing to the job.

But she wouldn’t have agreed to the job if she had known it was you...

Davide felt a jolt. His inner voice was right. But somewhere deep inside the pain that was still trapped in his heart, was the pulsing desire to see Neve again. And keeping his identity from her—at least until she arrived—was the only way he could make that happen.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_6833614f-9ce0-55f8-94ac-8ecaccce0cbf)

“MY GOODNESS, NEVE, you could have told me about this job opportunity sooner.” Lois Wilder’s voice was half-scolding, half-offended. “Hearing this a day before your flight hardly gives me a chance to process all this.” She waved her hands helplessly, indicating Neve’s open suitcase.

Or interfere in some way, Neve couldn’t help thinking. “There’s nothing to process, Mom. And I was busy finishing up my school year. You know I have no time to chat when I’m in the middle of report cards and end-of-school activities.”

Lois expelled a sigh of frustration. “But, darling, had I known, I could have booked a flight, as well. Not that I would have expected to be put up at the same place as you,” she added quickly. “I still have my friends at Villa Morgana. I’m sure they would be thrilled to have me visit.”

“This is not a vacation, Mom. It’s a job. Six days a week.” Neve tried to keep her voice steady. “And I’m sure that on the seventh day I’ll be too exhausted to do anything but rest.” Neve was inwardly horrified at the thought of her mother coming to Valdoro. Knowing her, she’d find a way to insinuate herself in Neve’s work and leisure time. No, she had to make it clear to her mom—without being mean—that she should stay home.

“Mom, I can’t discuss the details, but this assignment is highly sensitive. I will not be able to spend any time with you at all. And besides—” Neve had a brain wave “—you’re hosting that big event in a week—the annual technology symposium—at the company, remember?”

Lois frowned. “Yes, of course. I suppose I can’t miss that, seeing as how your dad started it all...” Her eyes began to mist. “Although the thought of returning to the special place where your dad and I...” She sniffed and pulled out a tissue from her designer purse. “May he rest in peace.”

“Mom, I really have to finish packing. It’s going to be a long couple of flights, and I need to get to bed early. It’s only been two days since school ended, and I haven’t even had a chance to unwind.” Neve continued folding light cotton tops, Capri pants and dresses into her medium-size suitcase. She hoped her mother would take the hint.

Lois peered into the suitcase. “Don’t forget your sun protection, Neve. You know how quickly you freckle.” She took a step forward to scan Neve’s face. “And you might start thinking about using some wrinkle cream. I have a new tube in my purse...”

“Thanks, but no thanks, Mom. I like the natural look.” Neve realized that her tone was more clipped than she intended, but she had to stop her mother before she offered another dozen suggestions or reminders. “I’m twenty-six, Mom. I can handle this.”

Lois raised her professionally shaped eyebrows. “I forgot to ask. Who is your employer? Can you give me his number? And make sure he has mine, in case of an emergency. Oh, and how much is he paying you for this job? Is the flight included?”

“Mother, you need to go, or it’ll be midnight before I’m done here.” Neve put an arm around her mother’s shoulder and gently ushered her to the door of her apartment. “I’ll text you the information. Don’t worry, it’s all good.” She gave her a hug. “See you at the end of the summer.”

“Let me know as soon as your flight lands, Neve. I’ll be waiting anxiously.”

“I will, Mom,” Neve replied wearily. “Good night.”

“Buon viaggio,” Lois called out before Neve closed the door. “And watch out for those Southern Italian men!”

Neve gave a sigh. She always felt somewhat energy-depleted after spending time with her mother. She often wondered at her mom’s clinginess; she certainly hadn’t been like that while Neve was growing up. Could it be that Lois had realized that some of her maternal skills had been lacking back then—especially after her husband’s death—and was feeling guilty and trying to make up for it?

Neve had a hard time with it. At this point in her life, she didn’t need her mother hovering over her. Lois’s controlling and opinionated ways were grating, and Neve often felt her patience dwindling around her.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love her mother; she just wanted her to loosen the apron strings. No—she wanted Lois to untie them completely, and to fold the apron and put it away. It had gotten to the point where Neve had actually contemplated moving out of town. And then she had gotten her current job as a kindergarten teacher, which had prevented any further plans of relocating.

Neve checked the time and quickly finished packing, pushing away any more thoughts about her mother. All that was left to do now was to have a soothing bath and go to bed. And tomorrow, after a leisurely breakfast, she’d head to the airport. She thought of the plush orca she had purchased for Bianca—the perfect West Coast gift for a child—and smiled. Difficult and troubled though Bianca might be, Neve was confident that she could help her.

Lucia Michele had provided more details about Bianca’s situation, her daily routines and Neve’s trip arrangements in a subsequent email, including the fact that Bianca’s uncle would be covering all her travel and food expenses. How very generous, and obviously very wealthy, Neve had thought, and had wondered what he did for a living.

Feeling her eyelids start to droop, Neve pulled the stopper and stepped out of the tub, shivering despite the warmth of the room. She wrapped her terry-cloth robe around her and dried herself briskly before changing into a knee-length nightshirt. Under the covers, she let out a deep sigh. She was really doing this. Her travel clothes were laid out, and she was ready to fly to Italy and be a nanny! She hugged her pillow and let the memories of sun-drenched days, delicious Southern cuisine and the magical Ionian Sea lull her to sleep.

* * *

Davide drummed his fingers on his desk. He checked the time on his cell phone. Neve’s plane should be landing in minutes at the Lamezia International Airport. Tomaso, his occasional driver, would be waiting for her, holding a card up with her name on it. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be a delay in claiming her luggage. If complications arose, Tomaso would take care of them.

Davide wondered if Neve still spoke some Italian. The second time he saw her on her balcony, he had smiled and said, “Ciao, signorina.” She had hesitated, given a quirk of a smile, and replied, “Ciao.” It came out sounding more like the English “chow,” and, embarrassed, she quickly repeated it with less of an aspiration at the start of the word. He had nodded in approval, and as he continued walking, he couldn’t resist looking back and saying, “Ciao, bella.” But she had already gone in.

Davide had tried to push recurring thoughts of her away after she had left Valdoro and returned to Vancouver. But if he had managed to accomplish that even temporarily during the day, he had been plagued by dreams of her at night.

His zio, Francesco, had noticed his malaise and had encouraged Davide to confide in him. Is it about a girl? He had eyed Davide with furrowed brows. Davide had been too embarrassed to talk about his feelings. Especially to his uncle the priest. How could he have possibly discussed his unquenchable desire for Neve, and his feelings of bitterness and humiliation?

“The best thing is to concentrate on your studies—and perhaps frequent Sunday mass a little more often,”his uncle had solemnly suggested.

Davide smirked. He had taken his uncle’s advice about his studies, but not so much on the second suggestion. Davide had had an issue with God and the whole destiny thing, and at twenty-two, forgiveness was not a strong male virtue. Davide had still gone to mass on special occasions, like the main holidays and an occasional funeral mass for a family friend, but other than that, he had stayed away. Besides, he had had goals he needed to accomplish.

And he had. He gave a bitter laugh as his gaze fell on the copy of his award-winning novel on his desk. Maybe he should thank Neve personally for her part in his literary success. Maybe he should have included a few words about her in his acceptance speech. After all, it was her written words that had ignited the chain of events leading up to the writing of his book.

Let it go, an inner voice whispered. Davide took a deep breath. Indeed. Why should he continue to be bitter about the words and actions of a teenage girl? He was a man now. His young ego may have been bruised then, but surely he was mature enough to have moved on?

Davide thought he had dealt with all those immature emotions, but he couldn’t deny the sharp twinge in the core of his heart when Neve’s face had appeared on the screen. She was still beautiful. Bellissima. He had watched the interview a few times after Lucia had gone home. Studied Neve’s face as she spoke. Paused to go over her every feature. He had drunk in the sight of her like a man coming across a source of water after days of walking in a scorching-hot desert.

Could he handle her living in the castle with him, interacting with him daily, watching her deal with his beloved niece? Only time would tell...

His phone indicated a text. He checked the message, written in Italian.

Signorina Wilder has arrived. We are on our way.

Va bene, Davide replied swiftly.

He set down his phone, strode over to the credenza and poured himself a shot of brandy.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_093fe910-582d-5789-b03a-6e5e08878ce9)

AS SOON AS Neve stepped out of the plane, the dry July heat enveloped her like a swaddling blanket. She was glad she had packed light. Her carry-on contained her laptop and a few emergency items in case her luggage was lost. And in her one piece of luggage, which she would shortly claim, there were just enough items to last her three weeks. She would alternate clothes over her two-month stay, and if she really got tired of wearing the same thing, she’d go to any one of the outdoor markets and buy something new. After all, she wasn’t there to be in a fashion parade; she was there for work.

Neve took a moment to text her mother that she had arrived, and joined a slow-moving throng to get clearance from the uniformed officials. She then proceeded to the baggage claim area. She looked eagerly for a middle-aged man holding a sign with her name on it, asLucia Michele had indicated in her email, and when she had spotted him, she waved and walked briskly toward him. He welcomed Neve in Italian and introduced himself as Tomaso Rocco. She smiled back at him and thanked him in Italian for having come to the airport to pick her up and drive her back to her employer’s house.

Neve noticed that his eyebrows had lifted at the word casa. Maybe he was surprised that she could speak Italian. She had studied it since her trip to Italy as a teenager, and made it a point to use it with her Italian landlady and landlord, so she felt fairly comfortable communicating right away with Tomaso. Strangely enough, he switched to a faltering English after she had spoken.

“Would you care for a refresh before we proceed?” Tomaso pointed to a nearby kiosk. “Or a panino?”

Neve smiled. “Grazie, SignorTomaso, but I had a nice meal on the plane. I wouldn’t mind finding a ladies’ room, though.”

He nodded and once she returned, she positioned herself near one of the conveyors to scan the moving luggage. A few minutes later she spotted the suitcase with two extra-large stickers of the Canadian flag and the Italian flag placed side by side. Tomaso deftly grabbed it and a few moments later they were driving south along the coast. Neve was glad that Tomaso was not a man of many words, as the view around her had her total attention. She caught her breath at the shimmering expanse of the Gulf of St. Euphemia in the Tyrrhenian Sea, and the pastel-colored facades of villas and apartments. The familiar sight of oleander trees, with their profusion of white, pink and fuchsia blooms, growing not only around homes but also along endless stretches of railroad tracks, made Neve think of an impressionist painting, with its mesmerizing combination of multicolored strokes.

Despite the stifling heat of the afternoon, Tomaso had opted to roll the windows down instead of putting on the air-conditioning, and Neve actually didn’t mind as she breathed in the sweet scent of the oleander blossoms perfuming the air.

Before long Tomaso had changed direction and was heading inland. The view changed from seascape to hills and valleys, with miles and miles of olive groves. Neve loved the look of the olive trees, with their gnarled branches and silver-green foliage. She started as the vehicle jerked to a sudden stop, and Neve, turning her head, discovered the cause: a herd of goats crossing the road. The goatherd ambled by, waving at Tomaso, and he gave a resigned wave back. “People not like to hurry here,” he said to Neve in his broken English. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You understand? Sometimes is like a thousand years ago.”

“I understand.” Neve stifled the urge to chuckle. “It’s like time standing still.”

Tomaso gave her a baffled look and then exclaimed as some of the goats started to backtrack. He gave a quick blast of the horn and the goats finally crossed over. Neve settled back to enjoy the magnificent views as the road snaked its way through what she discovered as she checked her map, was the Aspromonte mountain range. The Bitter Mountains.

She couldn’t help a slight shiver as she recalled reading about some of the nefarious happenings within the dark recesses of the heavily wooded slopes. Stories of bandits, or briganti. Some had been the Italian counterpart to Robin Hood, but others were immortalized in folk songs for their notorious deeds.

Neve marveled at some of the hamlets perched on top of a hill. Some had been abandoned for years, and the houses were crumbling in areas. But even these ghost towns, with their borders of cactus pear plants and hillsides of golden broom, had a mysterious and romantic air about them, conjuring all kinds of stories in her imagination.

Totally absorbed in the mountain landscape, with its dark gullies and sheer cliff sides with often no guardrails, Neve found herself holding her breath. It was like seeing everything with new eyes. Perhaps at eighteen she had had other things—or people—that had grabbed her attention, but now the mountains, trees and the scintillating waters were even more majestic and striking than she remembered.

Tomaso started whistling an old folk tune; she had heard it at a festival during her last trip to Italy. She knew the title, Calabrisella Mia, and if her memory served her right, it was about a young man who spotted a young lady washing clothes at the public fountains and was captivated by her. Well, maybe nobody went to do laundry at the fountains or by the river anymore, but Valdoro still celebrated the chivalry of the “old days” at their annual summer festival, the Festa della Calabrisella