Chapter 29 Jessica
Jessica
I walk into our suite and slump in the chair, my feet and body exhausted.
“Tough morning?”
I jump, not expecting Donovan to be here.
“I thought you had meetings this afternoon?” My smile is instant. We landed and hit the ground running, him in meetings, me trying to get my head around the local operations here to get a better understanding of areas that we could streamline.
“I had meetings this morning. I have something else planned for this afternoon,” he says cryptically as I stand and walk toward him. He looks amazing. He suits Milan well. Laid-back, effortless, extremely dapper in his pants and shirt, the collar undone, his sleeves rolled up. He’s flawless.
“Oh yeah? I saw our afternoon was blocked out, but there was no further information.” I wrap my arms around his neck and lift onto my tiptoes to give him a kiss.
“Hmmmm, I’ve planned something special for us,” he murmurs, before kissing me again, his lips warm, his hands wrapping around my waist keeping me close.
“Oh?”
“Well, I knew we would be busy this week, and I wanted to ensure you at least got some time to be a tourist.”
My eyes and smile widen. “Really?”
I’m excited. It’s true that this is my first overseas trip, but the itinerary that Ashley put together left hardly any room for meals, let alone opportunities for me to play tourist. I’ve been eagerly looking out the car window, taking in the sights between meetings and dinners.
“Why don’t you get changed. I have a new outfit on the bed for you, and I have a car waiting for us.”
“Eeeeeekkkkk!” I squeal, and he throws his head back on a laugh as I run from his hold to get changed.
Donovan has spoiled me all day. We’ve played tourist, eaten gelato, the car and driver taking us to the most beautiful places.
We went to the festive markets, where I got some beautiful gifts for my aunt and uncle for Christmas and where I ate so much panettone that I almost look like one.
All the while, Donovan has been smiling, watching me experience Italy for the first time, ignoring his phone that continued to ring almost every five minutes.
“So any favorites?” Donovan asks as we climb back in the car. So far, he’s taken me to explore Duomo di Milano, the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, and Leonardo da Vinci's The Last Supper. It’s been a whirlwind, but like every dream I’ve had come to life.
“I don’t think I could pick. They were all amazing. Thank you.” I lean over and settle myself into his side as the car we’re in drives away from the curb. He pulls me close, his hand never leaving mine, not even in the busiest tourist spots.
“I have one last surprise.”
I sit up and look at him. “There’s more?” It’s been a big afternoon.
“Of course.” He grins.
“What is it?” I ask eagerly.
“You’ll see.” He nods, and I smile, settling in for the next experience and enjoying the slow drive through the streets. We drive for what feels like almost half an hour before the car pulls up along a quiet street on the outskirts of town.
“You’re spoiling me,” I tell him softly.
“I like spoiling you. Besides, it’s your first trip to Italy; I need to make it memorable.” He runs his hand across my cheek, watching me closely.
“Everything you do with me is memorable,” I say, because he needs to know I’m not with him for his money, for this extravagance.
“That’s because you make it memorable. You know I still remember what you were wearing the day I first met you.”
I tilt my head. “You do?”
“You had on a vintage Prada outfit, walked into my office, and when I lifted my head, I felt like a lightning bolt hit me right in the chest the moment my eyes hit yours.”
“You did?” I grin. I felt the same. I remember being nervous, but seeing him had my emotions all over the place.
“Hmmm, then you rejected me. That stung,” he admits, and I roll my lips.
“Well, I needed to make you work for it,” I tease.
“There was no way I was going to let you say no. I needed to see you the next day so I trekked all the way to the sprinkler shop.”
“You did look a little out of place.”
“I think your uncle likes me now, though.”
“They love you. Just like I do.”
“Maybe we should go back to the penthouse… but… we’re here,” he says, grinning, before he opens the door and steps out, and I follow him quickly, looking around at the beautiful yet very residential street.
“Where are we?” It’s a beautiful street. Old buildings, quaint, quiet.
“San Carlo. Come.” He offers me his hand, and I take it as we step toward a home nearby.
“What are we doing?” I whisper, like we’re not meant to be here.
“We’re doing a traditional Italian family cooking class,” he says, coming to a stop at the front door, and I blink a few times.
“A what?”
“We’re here to learn how to cook traditional Italian pasta and eggplant parmigiana, which we’ll then stay and eat for dinner with a lovely woman, who’s the grandmother of one of our workers here in Milan. Her food is the best, and she’s excited to teach us her ways.”
The door opens, and there stands an older woman, who can’t be more than four feet tall, with an apron on, looking at Donovan with a big grin.
“Ahhh, Donovan, tesoro mio, vieni qui!” she says, and my eyebrows rise as Donovan leans over and she pulls him down to her level, kissing both his cheeks.
He greets her in perfect Italian as I stand, dumbfounded, before she turns her attention to me.
“And who is this bella ragazza? Look at you, eyes like summer and a smile that could melt my cannoli.” She clasps my hands without hesitation. “Welcome, amore. If Donovan brought you, you must be special. Come, lets cook.”
She pulls me inside, and Donovan grins. We get busy in her small kitchen, making all the food, learning new tricks, cooking all afternoon and eating all night, a picture-perfect day in Italy.