CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER EIGHT
O DDLY , WHEN IT felt as if the world was ending, she didn’t cry. Instead, she greeted a couple of early-morning locals as if life was beautiful...as if the world was normal. There were even tiny buds on the trees that hadn’t been there on Friday,
‘Mi scusi,’ someone said, and Susie smiled and stepped aside.
She was surprised at how calm she was, that she wasn’t in floods of tears. But if anything, she was relieved.
Relieved that she hadn’t burst out crying on him—or, worse, asked him when or if they might see each other again.
‘Permesso...’ a morning jogger scolded her.
But she barely noticed—was just relieved to make it to the apartment and climb the steps and be home.
‘Hey...’ Juliet smiled. ‘Goodness, did you win a raffle?’
‘I might have.’ Susie smiled. ‘Help yourself.’
‘Seriously?’ Louanna pounced on the offer, and was soon smearing truffled honey on crackers.
Oddly numb, Susie showered, tidied her room, caught up on a few calls, and then put on her uniform for work.
She was doing brilliantly, she decided. Over him already.
‘Woo-hoo!’ Louanna suddenly called from the lounge. ‘Casadio!’
Frowning, Susie walked through—and there Dante was on her television screen.
‘If I ever need to get divorced,’ Louanna said, ‘I am going to him.’
‘What’s it about?’ Juliet asked.
‘The divorce of the century,’ Louanna said. ‘Casadio is ruthless...he’s trying to get a judge to agree to proceedings being delayed.’
Good grief!
Dante looked beautiful—as if he’d rolled over and gone to sleep after she’d left, and then been shaved and groomed by angels before stepping into a dark suit and his court robes.
‘His robes...’ Susie croaked—and then realised she’d said it out loud.
‘Toga,’ Louanna translated. ‘They’re in the Supreme Court.’
Dante even smirked as some journalist hurled a question at him.
Unlike his client, who walked alongside him, Dante was utterly calm, a little scathing, and completely immaculate.
He didn’t even offer a ‘no comment’ as he walked from the court with his entourage, his toga billowing behind him.
Had she really been in bed with him just this morning?
She headed to work, bumping into a few more people along the way.
There was something fizzing inside her.
How could he be so completely fine?
Dante was far from fine.
There’d been an air of disorder when he’d arrived at work. As his client’s letter had arrived while he was away, and an order had been broken, it meant he’d had no choice but to rock up to court.
And, no, the judge was not pleased at the stalling tactics—and no, there would be no more delays.
She’d glared at Dante. ‘I don’t like a circus outside my courtroom, Signor Casadio.’
And best of all, when he’d returned to his office, his head still spinning, Antonia had tried to bring him up to speed on lesser matters.
‘This can surely wait?’ Dante had said.
But Antonia liked a clear desk as much as he did, and had persisted. Relaying urgent messages, the names of other clients who were also about to stuff up, several requests from the press.
And now there was the personal stuff...
‘Signor Adino, the jeweller...?’
‘Dealt with.’
‘Helene...’ She glanced up, to confirm that he knew she meant his brother’s PA. ‘Helene would like to know if there is anything pressing regarding your trip home. She’s more than happy to assist...’
Damn Sev. Too wrapped up in his own life to get on a plane himself, Dante thought. But now he wanted a full report.
He could wait.
‘Oh, and a Susie Bilton left a message,’ Antonia said. ‘She said it was personal.’
‘Grazie,’ Dante said.
Merda , he thought.
Dante really didn’t hear the rest, but he managed to nod in enough right places that finally he had the office to himself.
He’d tried to end it nicely this morning—had really thought she’d understood that there would be no repeats, no follow-up, no more...
He’d destroyed everyone he’d ever been close to, save for Gio, and he was not going to risk it with Susie.
Their weekend had been a rare one, and one to never repeat.
He’d been certain when he’d told Susie what had happened between him and Rosa that that would be it.
Now it was time to be his bastard self.
He dialled her number.
‘Susie,’ he said.
‘Dante?’
‘My assistant just informed me that you called.’
‘Scusi...’ she said, and he heard someone swear at her.
‘Where are you?’
‘Walking to work.’
‘So why is someone swearing at you?’
He tried not to think of the last time he’d seen her walking on the walls. How he’d teased her about Mimi being Juliet...
Instead he got back to the point. ‘And why did you call? Antonia said it was for personal reasons. I didn’t think you were needy, Susie.’
‘Needy?’ She let out an incredulous laugh. ‘I actually called you last Friday.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you told me I’d be able to find you in two minutes.’
He saw another image, this time of Susie standing under the umbrella.
‘I didn’t think you’d ever get the message or call me back.’
‘Well, I have.’
‘Just as well it wasn’t a real emergency with your grandfather,’ Susie said. ‘It took you long enough.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m just pointing out that had there been a problem, you wouldn’t have been around.’
‘You’re making no sense.’
Wasn’t she? Susie asked herself as she was almost mowed down by a cyclist.
It finally registered that she was walking on the wrong side of the path. Possibly that was why everyone had been a little testy with her this morning.
‘Susie...?’ he said.
‘I’m going to go,’ Susie said, her voice a little high. ‘I’m at work.’
Oh, she was fine.
Utterly fine.
If anything, she was angry. How dared Dante call her needy!
She stood there as Pedro allocated the team and told her the tables she was working.
‘No bruschetta,’ he said, and then told them everything else that was off the menu. ‘We are short in the kitchen.’
Then he clapped his hands and everyone set off to work.
Except Susie.
‘Problem, Susie?’ Pedro said in English, as if she might not have understood his instructions. ‘I said you’re to work the bar tables and—’
‘I understood what you said,’ Susie said, in such a determined voice that, along with Pedro, she blinked in surprise. ‘I’m so sorry, Pedro, I’ll finish my shift, but after that I’m going to look for something else...’
He frowned.
‘It’s very disheartening to be told no without any consideration...to not be given even a chance...’
She was possibly saying what she wished she could say to Dante, Susie conceded, but Pedro would have to do. ‘To be just written off.’ She reached for her apron. ‘Actually, I think I should just go home now.’
She marched to the little staff cloakroom, ready to go home, where she might take her scissors to that damn basket and tip the contents in the bin.
She halted and sat down on the small bench.
Oh, gosh, she wasn’t okay.
Not at all.
She had been a public liability walking on the walls, and now she’d thrown in her job.
Oh—and now she understood what Dante had meant about walking around thinking you were being normal.
Then, at the thought of him out on the hills, searching, she started to panic, wondering how on earth she could get home without breaking down.
Never—not for a second—had she thought you could fall this hard for a person in a single weekend.
A single long weekend, she corrected.
A deliciously long and very wonderful weekend.
She’d never thought she was capable of this depth of feeling.
It seriously hurt.
And it wasn’t just her own pain she was dealing with. She seriously ached on his behalf too.
Gosh, she’d cried over her ex—but that had been more out of guilt for ending something that hadn’t mattered enough.
Dante had made her feel like herself, feel important, feel wanted and adored and special. And he’d told her about Sev.
They’d shared so much...
‘Susie?’ There was a knock at the door and then Pedro put his head around it. ‘You have a shift tonight in the kitchen,’ he told her. ‘Be here at four for prep.’
Thank goodness for work...
For exhilarating, exhausting shifts at the restaurant.
Now Susie wore the kitchen’s huge black and white pants with a white top and apron. They were by far too big, but Susie loved them. And it was much easier to tackle mountains of tomatoes or onions than to address issues of the heart. And there was language classes and homework on top of that.
Susie was happy to collapse into bed each night and fall into an exhausted sleep.
It was in the silence of morning that she glimpsed despair and lay there so lonely, remembering how she and Dante would lie and talk...sometimes lying on their stomachs, facing each other, or on their backs looking over from their pillows...or the sheer pleasure of being held...
Then Juliet’s violin would start!
Yes, she had every right to tell her to stop, but Juliet was apparently struggling at music school. As well as that, she was sweet and kind, and yesterday had even asked Susie if everything was okay.
Of course it was!
Work was increasingly brilliant. Soon she was no longer constantly chopping, and there were times when Cucou called her over and gave her a little demonstration, or asked her to taste something...
‘My sofrito ...’ Cucou said now, speaking lovingly of the onion, celery and carrots he was frying in butter, and Susie’s eyes were like a hawk’s as she watched what he added.
Sofrito was the base for many Italian dishes, and every nonna and every chef guarded their own recipe. Parsley went in, she saw, and she noted the aromatics he added...
He gestured for her to try it and she took a little tasting stick. ‘Oh, my...’ she groaned at the sheer perfection. ‘I need to add more butter to mine, and...’ She looked at Cucou, who was smiling to himself, and was certain she hadn’t seen all that he’d added. ‘There’s something else...’
He carried on stirring.
‘Will I ever find out?’
‘No.’ Cucou shook his head. ‘I shall take it to the grave.’
As well as work there were wonderful hours spent with Mimi—and not just walking on the walls. Sometimes they would go to the shops, or for coffee, and this gorgeous Saturday they were in Mimi’s sister’s home. Or was it Mimi’s home? Susie still hadn’t quite worked it out. But there they sat, going through old photos as Susie practised her Italian.
‘This church is beautiful...’
‘Very good,’ Mimi approved, and turned a page in the album. ‘Now say something about this photograph.’
‘Goodness...’
It was a photo of a much younger Mimi, standing centre-stage in the amphitheatre. She was poured into velvet, her hair in ringlets, and clearly singing her heart out as the crowd watched spellbound.
‘Look at you!’
‘I was so beautiful that night...my voice soared.’
Mimi stretched her arms up like a ballerina and held the position as she recalled it, then gave a contented sigh as her hand came down. Susie wished she had a tenth of Mimi’s fizz and confidence.
‘I was singing for Eric,’ she said, and smiled. ‘He had asked me to the ball.’
‘Are you hoping Gio will ask you?’ Susie said, perhaps angling to know what was happening.
Apart from the little Dante had told her, it would seem he and Mimi were still living apart, although Mimi seemed a lot happier. In fact, she laughed now at Susie’s question.
‘Oh, no. The ball is very traditional. You only ever take one woman. It is different these days, but for some of us the tradition remains. Gio proposed to his beautiful wife there. It was where I met Eric...’ She looked at Susie. ‘You should go—Gio can get you invited!’
‘I can’t. My parents are visiting that weekend,’ Susie said. ‘As well as that, I don’t have anyone to go with.’
She thought how dismissive Dante had been, even at the thought of inviting her. And although her thoughts darkened, she tried to lighten her tone.
‘Anyway, I wouldn’t have a clue what to wear. Let alone be able afford it.’
‘I have a thousand gowns.’ Mimi waved her excuses away. ‘And I have been many sizes. Come.’
She took Susie upstairs to a gorgeous high-ceilinged room, with many full-length mirrors and an ornate dressing table with angled side mirrors.
‘This is where I sing now, but it was once my dressing room,’ Mimi said as she opened up what looked like an entire wall of wardrobes.
‘Oh, Mimi...’
Susie stared at the array of beautiful gowns as Mimi pointed out some of the costumes she’d worn. Enchanted, Susie went through the dresses. Silks, velvets, frothy tulle of many shades and moods, vivid crimsons and sensual violets, as well as a dazzling russet. They were all labelled with the venues they’d been worn at, as well as the dates.
‘Rosina,’ Mimi sighed, taking out a black velvet dress. And perhaps she saw Susie’s frown. ‘I sang Rosina in The Barber of Seville .’
For a tiny second Susie had thought Mimi was talking about Rosa... Gosh, that last conversation...her last time with Dante. No matter how Susie filled her days, he was never more than a thought away.
Then came a brief diversion as her hand paused over a dusky gown. Susie wasn’t sure if it was a pastel grey or pink, but the fabric was as soft as feathers to the touch.
‘Oh!’ Mimi gave a cry of delight, replacing her Rosina costume and coming over. ‘What was I thinking? I actually hated that poor gown.’
‘Why?’
‘I usually prefer block colours. But this designer was famous for his achromatic designs and I wanted to own one. By the time it came to the final fitting I’d decided it was too subtle for me.’ She put on her glasses and read her meticulous notes, then separated the layers of the skirt. ‘The slip is Paris-pink, the chiffon a dove-grey.’ She took it out and held it against Susie. ‘I was very precious then—I believe I ended up wearing saffron.’ She peered at the label again. ‘It’s never been worn. Try it.’
Susie couldn’t resist, and slipped behind the curtains and undressed. Then she peered at the frothy gown wondering how to get it on. ‘Do I...?’
‘Step into it,’ Mimi said from outside.
It felt like stepping into heaven. It was glorious, even allowing for the straps of her bra, and she stared at her image, a little pale and washed out, as Mimi chatted away.
‘In Milan, I had four people helping me into it.’
Dante was in Milan...
That was all it took and he was back at the forefront of her mind. Gosh, no matter how Susie tried she could not keep thoughts of him at bay.
The curtain was swept back and Mimi stepped in. ‘It’s heavenly,’ Susie said. ‘Although even done up I think it’ll be a bit too big...’
‘It’s corseted,’ Mimi said. She instructed Susie to take off her bra, then took a little implement like a crochet hook to do up the back buttons. ‘Arthritis,’ she explained, and then, with not a jot of awkwardness, she stared at Susie in the mirror and jostled her breasts.
‘Ow!’ Susie said. ‘That hurt!’
‘I barely touched them!’ Mimi laughed as she arranged the skirt and then looked at Susie’s reflection. ‘Oh, Susie...’ She gave her verdict. ‘It’s perfect.’
‘No, I think you were right about the colour,’ she said. ‘I do look pale in it.’
‘Because you are pale,’ Mimi said. ‘This plays it up.’
Mimi lifted Susie’s hair, as if trying to decide if it should be worn up or down.
‘Please think about going...you’d be the belle of the ball.’
There was the sudden threat of tears. But Susie hadn’t cried since she’d first torn off her apron and demanded a trial in the kitchen. And she was not going to cry now.
‘It’s gorgeous,’ Susie said, ‘but...’ She shook her head. ‘I really can’t.’
‘Surely your parents would love to see you all dressed up and enjoying yourself?’
‘Not if they’ve flown over to see me!’ Susie laughed, though it wasn’t just the fact that her parents were coming that held her back. It was the thought of attending the ball alone when she’d have given anything to attend with Dante.
He hadn’t messaged, and certainly there hadn’t been any flowers.
Susie wondered if he even thought of her at all...