Chapter 17
I shake handswith Lorenzo’s cousin, Giovanni, Gio, for short. My skin prickles with anticipation and my stomach does somersaults. I turn just as Dr. Bianchi’s eyes trail down my dress.
“Dr. Bianchi, what a small world. It’s so good to see you, again.”
Dr. Bianchi tilts his head and gives me a charming smile. “Ah yes, the beautiful American who hurt her thumb in a bicycling accident.” He reaches for my hand and runs a thumb over my palm. “How is my most favorite patient?”
It’s the wrong hand, but who the hell cares? Goosebumps break out over my skin, and I simper while he massages my thumb. “I’m good, I mean, it’s good. All better.”
“I see you took off the splint.”
“Yes, it was making me clumsy.” I giggle like an idiotic teenager with a crush. Dr. Bianchi’s gaze drops to my lips and then my chest, and I flush. Lorenzo clears his throat, breaking the trance Dr. Bianchi has me under.
“You’ve met my cousin, Angelo?”
“Sí, he fixed my thumb when I got into the accident with Harrison.”
Angelo’s eyes roam over my body, stopping at my breasts. “The beautiful American damsel in distress.”
Lorenzo clenches his jaw, pinning Angelo with an icy glare. Stepping in front of me, he partially blocks my view of Angelo and Gio. He says something rapidly in Italian, to which Angelo responds with a scoff. Lorenzo quickly takes my elbow and leads me down a hall.
“Hey, I was talking to Dr. Bianchi.”
“I think your dress has come undone,” he says. I peer down and gasp, as the top of the dress is indeed gaping. I quickly close the stupid thing. Lorenzo politely shows me to the powder room while I curse Carmella’s name under my breath. Shutting myself in, I look in the mirror.
My cheeks are ruddy, and my eyes are bright like I’ve had one too many glasses of wine. The front of the dress has come loose, gaping enough to show plenty of cleavage and my lacy bra. No wonder Lorenzo looked piqued. I tuck the top part into the wrap belt until it’s taut. I need a safety pin to keep it closed. I open all the drawers next to the sink, but they are empty. I shut the last drawer when someone knocks. “Hold on,” I say, trying to fix my hair and adjust the skirt of my dress before opening the door. This night is not how I pictured dinner with the Rossi’s would go.
I expect Lorenzo, but it’s Nina leaning against the wall, waiting for the bathroom.
“Oh, hello, Nina.”
She eyes my dress. “Ciao. Cute dress, Summer.”
“Thanks, yours too.”
“What are you doing here?”
I look behind me, confused by her question. “Using the bathroom?”
She rolls her eyes. “What are you doing at the party?”
“Oh, Nonna Rossi invited me.”
She shoulders her way into the bathroom and grabs my wrist as she passes me, her eyes widening. “Dio mio, what happened to your hair?”
I pat my hair self-consciously. “Curling-iron accident. Is it bad?”
“Hmm,” is all she says before shutting the door in my face. I reluctantly head back to the party. Would anyone miss me if I hid in the kitchen with Fiore? She’ll know where I can get a safety pin and a bag for my head. Angelo stops me from slinking off to find the kitchen as soon as I enter the living room.
“Bellissima, come, let me check your thumb.” Charm oozes out of him and I struggle to say no. He places his hand under my elbow and guides me to a couch. I scan the room for a familiar pair of smoky eyes, but I don’t see him.
“Uh, okay, but then I need to find Fiore.”
He takes my hand and sits close to me on the couch. Dr. Bianchi is acting a lot more forward than that day in his office. He picks up my hand and strokes it, setting my fight or flight on alert.
“Your hands are so soft and smooth. I was told you are working for la famiglia Rossi. It would be a shame to ruin these beautiful hands.”
Marcos, my self-defense instructor, is back, waving red flags in my head.
“Oh no, I’m just helping with the tastings. Uh, that’s the wrong hand, though.”
He chuckles. “Mi scusi, I don’t have my report in front of me.”
“It’s no problem. I’ve had no issues with it, so I think it’s healing well. You did a great job.” I try to tug my hand back, but he holds on and looks into my eyes. I nervously wet my lips because, holy hell, the Italians have a special knack for making you feel like you’re the only person in the room with just a look.
He glides his thumb up and down my hand. “How long are you in Italy for? I thought you were leaving the next day. Imagine my surprise when the beautiful American woman I couldn’t stop thinking about shows up on the arm of my cousin.”
“Small world, huh?” I choke out, craning my neck, looking for Lorenzo in the crowd. Although Dr. Bianchi is incredibly handsome and makes me lose a few brain cells with just a smile, he’s not Lorenzo. Not even close, and the longer he holds my hand, the more uneasy I feel. He’s too much as he sits practically on top of me, his cologne overpowering my senses, his touch too…touchy. I discreetly try to slide my hand out of his because his eyes have taken on a wolfish gleam. I lower my gaze to my top to make sure it’s still in place. Angelo’s grin widens.
“That’s a beautiful dress on you, bella.”
“Summer, here.” Lorenzo appears at my side and shoves a wineglass toward me. I accept it, grateful for his interruption.
“Grazie, Ren.” I stand up, embarrassed to be caught getting a hand massage from his cousin. I feel dirty and ashamed because I don’t want Lorenzo to get the wrong idea.
“Renzo, how did you meet this beautiful woman?”
“She’s living in Nonna Rossi’s old house at the bottom of the hill.”
Angelo laughs. “Weren’t you supposed to be renovating it for a little bed-and-breakfast?”
I grind my teeth, my attraction to Dr. Bianchi dimming quite rapidly as he sneers the words bed-and-breakfast.
“Summer, dinner is ready.” Ren ignores Angelo, quietly offering his hand like an olive branch. I slip my hand into his. He squeezes it gently, and it’s comforting. “I tried to find some safety pins for you, but I couldn’t locate any.”
“Thank you for trying.”
Angelo stands, flanking my other side, while we make our way to the dining room. “You should come to the clinic this week, so I can properly check out your thumb, sí?”
“Oh, I think it’s fine.” I give him a tight smile before Lorenzo steers me to a seat between Nonna Rossi and Gio. If I weren’t mistaken, I’d think Ren was trying to keep me away from Angelo, but the resourceful doctor snags a chair across from me, winking as he sits down. Nina huffs, sitting down in a chair to his left while Fiore and Lorenzo sit with their parents at the opposite end of the long trestle table. I fiddle with my dress and make sure it’s pulled extra tight across my chest.
Mr. Rossi stands, holding his glass up. “La condivisione del cibo è un momento sacro. Grazie di essere venuti stasera. Mangiare, bere ed essere felici!”
“Mangiare, bere ed essere felici,” the table jovially echoes. Gio leans into me and whispers, “He thanked everyone for coming together tonight. He said the sharing of food is sacred, and to eat, drink, and be happy.”
“Thank you for translating.” I smile gratefully.
“You’ll have to learn to speak our language if you stay here permanently, no?” Nonna pipes up on my right.
“Oh, um…I’m picking up some phrases, but I don’t plan on staying past the summer.” I bite my bottom lip. Will I stay on at the end of summer? My head tells me no, but my heart says it’s possible.
Laughter and the beautiful Italian language buzz around me. Incredible aromas waft from the platters of food, making me feel drunk with happiness. The garnet red of the wine in the crystal glasses twinkles in the light as I seek the handsome Italian among the strangers at the table. He laughs at something his dad says, and I itch to be closer to his end of the table.
I take a bite of the tender beef Fiore has prepared. My eyes roll back in pure pleasure. “Oh my God, this is so good.”
“Fiore is the best cook in Tuttoscano. Better than all the chefs in Florence,” Gio says proudly.
“She has definitely earned that title,” I say.
“I love a woman who appreciates good food,” Angelo says smoothly, which does not sit well with Nina. She stabs the meat with her fork. A few weeks ago, those words coming from his lips would have made me melt to the floor in a pool of desire. But tonight, Angelo Bianchi is not the Italian who makes my sauce simmer.
I spoon some risotto and contemplate. The whole reason I’m here, staying on in Italy for the summer, is to have a little adventure, and if I’m lucky, have a wild affair with a sexy Italian. It’s hard to do that when the one you’re interested in has friend-zoned you. I furtively glance down the table. Lorenzo’s gaze skirts to mine, and his lip curls up like we’re sharing a funny secret. His attention is pulled back to the conversation with Fiore.
The truth is, I want to spend my summer with Lorenzo. My devastatingly handsome friend and boss, who leaves me feeling confused and hot. But I can’t have him. He’s not even an option. His signals range from yellow to green to Do Not Pass.
“So, Gio, what do you do?”
“Ah, I’m Lorenzo’s right-hand man at Rossi Farms.”
“Oh really? I haven’t seen you walking around.”
“I’m usually holed up in the office with Lorenzo, but he has been sneaking off, wandering the property lately. Now I know why.” He chuckles, then shoves pasta in his mouth. Fiore wraps her arms around me before I can respond.
“Summer! I’m so glad you could make it. I’m sorry this is the first chance to say hello. I have been slaving away in the kitchen all evening. Did you do something different with your hair?”
I immediately place my hand over my hair as Fiore bends down to kiss my cheek. “Curling-iron accident. Everything is amazing! There’s something in the risotto I’ve never tasted before. What is it?”
Fiore glances over at Nonna, who is deep in conversation with Stella’s sister, and then says in a low voice, “Truffles from the ones you and Renzo picked.”
“Wow, it’s incredible! Ren was telling me I should go to the truffle festival.”
“Truffles? Where did you get truffles from?” Nonna shouts. “Non da quel cane Rizzotti, spero! Ma vaffanculo tutta quella famiglia Rizzotti!” For whatever reason, the whole table falls into a stunned silence.
Everyone looks at me and I squirm in my seat. Next to me, Gio snickers.
“Cazzo,” Fiore mutters. “Nonna, calmati. No one mentioned the Rizzottis. I was telling Summer that I used truffles in the dish.”
Nonna raises her fist in the air and yells, “Preferirei morire piuttosto che mangiare un tartufo da quel bastardo, Rizzotti!”
I catch Lorenzo’s eye, and he just smirks and shakes his head. The family resumes eating and talking like Nonna Rossi didn’t just totally lose her shit at the dinner table. Lorenzo wasn’t kidding when he said not to bring up truffles around Nonna.
Fiore rolls her eyes. “Anyway, I love your dress. What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Oh, I don’t kno—”
“Great, you must come over and spend the day with me by the pool. I haven’t had a day off in forever, and I need some vitamin D! Meet me at eleven, sí?”
Before I can answer, she’s moved on to kiss Nonna Rossi’s cheek and murmurs to her in Italian. Nonna pats her hand and nods.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard a non-family member make Nonna curse, besides those who cannot be named.” Gio snickers beside me.
“Oh no, what did she say?”
“That the Riz—the family that can’t be mentioned—can go fuck themselves, and she’d rather die than eat a truffle from them.”
I choke on a piece of meat. Gio gently taps my back, then turns his attention to Angelo. “Swimming sounds like the perfect day. We’ll all come over tomorrow as well. What do you say, Angelo?”
“I have to run to the clinic in the morning, but I wouldn’t mind lounging by the pool in the afternoon.” He runs his tongue over his bottom lip while he looks at me like I’m a piece of Fiore’s tender beef. I shift my eyes down to my plate and concentrate on twirling my fork in the pasta.
“I want to come!” Nina claps her hands giddily. I grit my teeth. So much for time alone with Fiore.
“Sí, we’ll all come over.” Angelo winks at me before Nina wraps him up in conversation, stealing his attention away.
Va bene.
I wander downthe hall toward the bathroom. I’ve had at least three women ask me if I’m aware my hair has a chunk missing. Yes, cousin Giada, I’m aware. Not to mention having to continuously fix this damn dress all night and stand there with my hand on my chest like I’m saying the pledge of allegiance to keep it from gaping open. Lorenzo’s great-uncle Giovanni did want to talk to me and was being a total perv as he tried to get a glimpse of my breasts.
I stifle a yawn and look for Ren to tell him I’m ready to call it a night. I’ve had so much food and wine that I might just walk home, although knowing him, he’ll insist on driving me. I wander down the hall when I pass a small study with a blazing fire. It looks warm and cozy, a perfect place to hide from the crowd and sip some wine.
I’m about to slip into the room to see if he wandered in here when I hear my name. I stop, melting into the shadows. Lorenzo is leaning against a bookshelf across from the hearth, his arms crossed while Nina stands in his personal space. She’s clutching a glass of wine, smiling up at him, then flirtatiously touches his arm.
“Cos’è Summer per te?” she asks.
“Siamo amici, perché?” He takes a sip of wine and Nina giggles, moving closer, which I can’t believe is even physically possible. She stands up on her toes and whispers in his ear. His hand slips to her waist, steadying her. I can’t watch this. I dart away from the room, using the shadows to keep concealed.
Nina is very beautiful, and Lorenzo is a total catch. The thought of them together makes the ugly green monster squeeze my heart…my dreams and hopes quickly flushed down the toilet. Dreams and hopes? Get a grip, Summer. So what if the devilishly handsome Lorenzo Rossi made my heart jump with excitement every time he was near? Who cares if the color of his eyes, a swirl of smoke and olives, made me want to melt on the spot?
I deflate against the wall outside the living room, my hands clenched. You don’t even know him. He could be the biggest Lothario in the Tuscan province. I blow out a breath and try to calm down, but the phrase, he’s not into you, pummels continuously like a drumbeat against my heart. Mi amici.
I look for Fiore or Nonna Rossi to tell them goodnight and thank you. I find Nonna first and give her a gentle hug. “Grazie, Nonna, for inviting me tonight.”
“Renzo taking you home, sí?”
“Oh, um…he’s preoccupied. I’ll be alright.”
“No, you find him. Immediatamente.”
I untangle myself from her embrace and nod. “Sí, Nonna Rossi. Immediatamente.”
“Brava ragazza, good girl.” She lovingly pats my cheek before turning toward a cousin. I make my escape and practically run to the front door before anyone else can try to stop me. I fling open the door and am greeted by pouring rain. Ugh, no! Oh well, this dress is crap anyway. I take my heels off and dash out into the storm. I’ve made this trip several times on my bike, so at least I know where to turn onto the main road. I slow down to a walk as rain pours on me. The house is probably flooded by now.
What at first felt like warm rivulets of water running down my cheeks has turned into cold needles pricking my skin. I shiver and wrap my arms around myself, slowly making my way down the pebbled lane. High beams flash over me. I step to the side of the road to let them pass, but the black Maserati pulls up right next to me. The automatic window glides down, and Lorenzo looks furious.
“Tesoro, get in.”
“No!” I continue to walk, ignoring him, but he rolls his car alongside me.
“Summer, don’t be a fool, get in! You’ll catch pneumonia.”
“No, grazie!”
“Porca puttana!” He puts the car in park and slams his door. He comes around the front of the car to block my escape. “Get in the car!”
“Leave me alone, Ren!” I shout, tears of frustration mixing with the rain. My fists clench tight at my side when he steps into my personal space.
“I can’t,” he yells back. I shove him to get him to step aside, but it’s like shoving a brick wall. Why won’t he get back into his pretty car and leave me alone?
“Stronzo!” I shout.
His head rears back at the one curse word I learned from Harrison. “Did you just call me an asshole?”
I note the shock and disbelief on his face and can’t help but feel a bit of satisfaction as he runs his hands through his wet hair.
“You’re getting soaked. Go home, Lorenzo.” I deflate. “Besides, Nina will wonder where you are.”
“Why would I care about Nina?”
I snort and hug myself tighter. “Of course, you wouldn’t care.”
“I do not understand.”
I fling my arms out. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to get in the goddamn car!”
“No! I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I saw you with Nina tonight in the study,” I scream back. “I saw her clinging to you. It looked like a pretty cozy scene to me.”
He shakes his head slowly, his face a mask of regret. “Tesoro, no. Nothing happened. Yes, she was in the study with me, but I was looking for pins for your dress when she came in.”
I snort. “Looking for pins while drinking wine by the fire? Do you think I’m stupido?”
“No!” He slices his hand through the air. “I’m not into Nina. You’re the only one I see.”
Before I can react, he pulls me to him. His hands drive into my wet hair as his lips capture mine in a sizzling kiss that makes me forget about the needles of rain on my skin, of Nina, and the fact that I’m upset. His lips move over mine and wipe my mind blank. There’s only me and Ren. My fingers wrap around his neck and thread into his hair. He slants his lips for better access, and I acquiesce, trembling with need while his tongue tangles with mine. He tastes like wine and spice and I’m drowning, never wanting to come up for air.
I moan, and he squeezes me closer to him, our wet bodies molding to each other. A pulsing heat unfurls in my core, and becomes so intense, I need to be closer to him. He groans when I wrap a leg around him, feeling his hardness against my core. His hands run down my back to cup my ass, pulling me up into him. I gasp, feeling like I’m about to unravel. He deepens the kiss and picks me up, shoving me against the car for better leverage. This kiss in the rain, this man…he was wrong about me bewitching him, because he’s the one who is casting the most delicious spell over me.
Car lights flash coming down the hill. He pulls away, both our chest heaving for air. He swipes a thumb across my lower lip, looking at me tenderly, rivulets of rain running down our cheeks. “Get in the car, tesoro. You’re shivering.”
I nod, my ire toward him dissolved by the rain and the best kiss of my life. He opens the door and I slip into the heated passenger seat. He says something in Italian to the car that stops next to us and quickly jumps into the driver’s seat. A million thoughts swirl around in my head like a blender, but I can’t focus on one. I need to say something. I should say something, but my brain refuses to work with my tongue. Will he kiss me again? Will he take me upstairs to my bedroom and bang me against the door so hard it will cave in too? I’d risk it.
I quickly glance at his profile, my stomach doing somersaults as I mentally retract what I said about not dating the boss. Could Lorenzo and I have a fling for the summer, perhaps even something beyond that? Could I stay here in Italy and see where this goes? I turn in my seat to face him.
“That kiss shouldn’t have happened,” he says quietly, his jaw clenching.
And…that was not anything close to what I was hoping he’d say.
Brutally disappointed, I sit back and stare out the window while trying to salvage my pride. “Do you not like me, Ren? Because I’m getting some pretty fucked-up signals from you.”
“I do, tesoro. I really do, but…” His hands flex on the steering wheel. “It’s not a good idea.”
Gah! Why does he keep saying that?“I don’t understand.”
“It’s not a good time for me to get involved with someone right now. Work is crazy, and you’re only here for the summer,” he says, and I die a little inside. I’ve just had the most incredible make-out session of my life and he’s not just pushing me through the friend-zone door, he’s slamming it in my face and locking it.
He pulls into the gravel lot in front of the house and turns off the car. Without a word, he gets out, the door shutting with a quiet click. He comes around to my side and opens the door, offering me a hand. We run to the front door, the rain still pelting down on us. We stop under the overhang. Rain drips down Lorenzo’s beautiful bone structure, his wet eyelashes black and beautiful against the olive green of his eyes. Reaching up, he brushes the tears that have mixed with the rain from my cheek.
“Summer, I’m so sorry I’m giving you mixed signals. If this were another time, and I was…” He drives his fingers through his hair. “Cazzo, this is so fucked up. I want to get to know you better. That kiss was—”
“Ren.” I swallow and close my eyes. That kiss…the intensity, the pull it had over me…his indecision, it all makes my stomach twist into knots. It scares me a little. “I think you should leave me alone.”
“That’s the problem, tesoro.” He runs a thumb over my bruised lips. “I don’t think I can.”