CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SIX
‘H OW IS IT Monday already?’ Dante asked.
‘You’ve got to go to the jewellers.’
‘Don’t remind me.’
‘It will be nice.’
He didn’t answer that.
‘You’ve got class this morning?’ he asked.
‘I do,’ she said. ‘Then a lunchtime shift.’
She stared into the thin morning light, loving being wrapped in his arms, and asked the question she was dreading the answer to.
‘What time do you fly?’
‘I haven’t booked it yet.’ He yawned, and was silent for a moment. Then, ‘Perhaps I could fly back early tomorrow morning.’
Susie swallowed, her delight at the prospect of another night tempered with a lick of uncertainty. It was all very well for him, with his million and one exes—he was clearly used to goodbyes.
She thought back to her one attempt yesterday. That had been hard enough. Now, it felt near-impossible to say goodbye without crying. Oh, she wanted to be sophisticated, and to kiss him and walk away. But, while she’d accepted this was temporary, her emotions were joining their little sex party.
‘I thought you only did one night?’ She tried to speak as if it were to tease or joke. ‘We’re already on two.’
‘I thought I only had one night when I said that,’ Dante pointed out.
She thought back to him asking her to dinner—that was before Gio had decided to go to the jewellers. ‘So, you do have longer relationships?’
‘I wouldn’t call them “relationships”, but, yes of course. Short-lived, but not just one night.’
‘Do you ever get involved? Too involved?’
‘No,’ Dante said. ‘Now, I should shower and get ready, or Gio will be waiting for me in his hat and coat.’
Dante was lying. The truth was he didn’t get involved, and always left at the first sign... And if he said that to Susie... Well, it would mean he’d been the same with her as with others.
Never.
This weekend had been a complete exception and he knew he should end things.
What the hell was he doing, suggesting another night?
Yet, he wanted another night.
He came out of the shower and Susie was lying there, gazing at the ceiling. And then she looked over to him.
‘Can I ask something?’
‘You can.’
‘When you end things...’
‘It’s not just me that ends things. I always make it clear that I don’t want to get too close, and...’ He paused, took a shirt from the wardrobe, and then answered the question. ‘If it is me ending things, I just say it’s over.’
‘And?’
‘My assistant sends flowers...a gift.’
‘A little bauble?’
‘I don’t gift jewellery,’ Dante said. ‘Antonia generally chooses.’ He buttoned up his shirt.
‘Does Antonia write the card?’
‘I think the florist does,’ he responded. ‘I’ll make coffee.’
‘I like milk,’ Susie said. ‘I’ll get my own coffee on the way.’
She didn’t want a card from his assistant, or flowers, or a gift.
As she showered and dressed she tried to pull herself out of a slight panic. She was torn between wanting another night and the farewell that was surely to come.
They left together, but as Dante walked down the steps Susie stopped, in the middle of wrapping her scarf, and saw all she’d missed last night.
‘Oh!’ She was taken aback by the view...the sheer beauty of where they were. Behind the elegant houses she could see the Tuscan hills. ‘You can see the hills!’ She spun around, and whichever way she looked the views were to die for. ‘And the walls.’ Everywhere she looked it was like a postcard. ‘It’s so gorgeous... How did I miss this?’
‘We were a bit distracted.’
‘True.’ Susie laughed and, refusing to be rushed, stood and gazed down the almost deserted avenue.
Dante, who’d seemed impatient to get on, followed her gaze. ‘It is stunning,’ he agreed. ‘In spring, the magnolia trees flower.’
‘They’re all magnolia trees?’ She stood, trying to picture it in bloom. ‘They’re my favourite flowers.’
‘Come the spring, you’re in for a treat.’
‘No...’ She shook her head, hit by a sudden wave of pensiveness. It was possibly not fitting, over flowers she would never see, yet it briefly knocked her off kilter, and she could feel her smile slipping away, her shoulders drooping. ‘I’ll be in Florence by then,’ she said.
Her voice sounded hollow, when usually she spoke of Florence with excitement, but it dawned on her that possibly it wouldn’t be a floral display she’d be pining for.
Oh, God!
She looked down the street and then back to Dante. The collar was up on his coat, and he looked brooding and completely irresistible, and for the first time she glimpsed the hell of getting over him.
Did it really have to end?
Were there never exceptions to his temporary lover rule?
Any chance for an extension?
She’d been so happy with one night. Deliriously happy with two. And now...?
‘Susie? Everything okay?’ he checked.
Why not tell him what she was thinking? Susie pondered. For it was as if last night had somehow freed her—as if the liberty he’d brought to her body had also converted her mind. She would tell him how she felt. And maybe...just possibly...
‘I was just...’ she began.
But it was as if some sleeping guardian angel had been startled awake and had grabbed her by the collar of her trench coat, squeezing her throat tight on the surely forbidden words.
Do not fall for him, Susie , the angel warned.
You might be a bit late , she replied silently, though thankfully the moment of madness was over.
She liked the honesty between them, how he’d told her to speak up and say how she felt, but in this instance she knew that honesty possibly wasn’t the best policy when dealing with a playboy of Dante’s calibre.
So she pushed back her shoulders, conjured a smile and dashed down the steps to his side.
‘I just adore magnolias.’
Sure enough, Gio was dressed and ready.
‘You’re late,’ he told Dante.
‘No...’ Dante glanced at the clock and saw he was actually on time.
He didn’t point it out to Gio, though. He knew this was very emotional for him.
They were silent as they passed the church where Dante knew his grandparents had married, then they turned and walked along a small cobbled street. Naturally Gio knew practically everyone they passed, and stopped for a greeting, but as they approached the small group of shops he paused.
‘I want to ensure all the jewels are taken care of,’ he said. ‘And then I might have a private conversation with Signor Adino.’
‘Of course,’ Dante said.
‘It might take some time.’
‘No problem.’
The jewellers had been there long before Dante was born, with its dark wooden facade and gorgeous windows that displayed both modern and antique jewels.
‘You and Sev used to look at the watches here.’
‘We did.’
He’d forgotten that. They had been there often. Not just with Gio. Mamma would sit trying on rings, and all the other things that had seemed boring, and he and Sev had stared at the clocks and watches.
He saw the flash of his own stainless-steel watch now, as he rang the bell for their private appointment. The store would be closed to others.
‘Welcome, Signor Casadio,’ said Signor Adino as he opened the heavy glass door. ‘Ah, and Sev...’
The jeweller stopped and laughed at his mistake, and Dante felt the sweep of Signor Adino’s eyes briefly register his scar.
‘I knew it was you who made the appointment, Dante, but for a moment I thought you were Sev. It’s been such a long time.’
Such a long time .
He’d excluded himself as much as possible from life here for more than a decade.
Signor Adino locked the door behind them as Gio walked over to the rear counter and placed down the black jewellery pouch that contained so much of his life. His shaking hands opened it up—he clearly wanted to do this himself.
‘There is a stone loose on this choker,’ Gio said, and his voice was trembling as the jeweller put on his magnifying glasses. ‘I remember you making this for her...’ Gio took out a handkerchief, then turned to Dante. ‘He’s a good salesman. I had to purchase a silver hand mirror—’
‘So Signora Casadio could see it when she put it on!’ Signor Adino carried on.
Only Dante wasn’t listening. He was staring at the spread of jewels on the black velvet—some dulled, but still attempting to shine, some that had belonged to his mother. There was even the cross and chain his father had worn when they were small.
It was the pieces that were missing that punished him the most.
Lost in the accident on the hills.
He thought of the two stones sitting in his safe back in Milan. He would really prefer to leave Gio to it, and yet he stood beside him, watching as each piece was laid out and one by one the jeweller made notes in a handwritten ledger.
Who the hell still used carbon paper?
Finally, the list was complete and the copy handed to Gio, who watched as the jewels and so many of his memories were carefully taken out to the back of the shop to be lovingly tended to.
‘Are you okay?’ Gio checked with Dante, when surely it should be the other way around.
‘Of course.’
And with the past taken care of, the jeweller returned and smiled to Gio. ‘I have everything set up for you, Signor Casadio.’
‘I might be a while,’ Gio said.
Dante nodded, watching as Gio moved behind the counter, no doubt to choose the stone for Mimi’s ring.
He wandered around the small store, looking at the watches. There was a beautiful old gold one...
He glanced down at his own luxury watch and told himself he did not need another one. Anyway, he didn’t wear gold.
And then from nowhere a memory assailed him, of standing on this very spot, with Sev beside him, not with his mother looking at rings, but with his father at the counter. Collecting a ring.
Turning to Sev, he had asked a question. ‘What’s an eternity ring?’
Slamming closed that memory, he walked away from the watches and crossed the floor of the tiny jewellers in two strides. For a while he stood unseeing, staring at the lavish displays, wishing to God they weren’t locked in.
Then a burst of laughter from the office hauled him back to the present, and he looked with mild interest at some of the more modern pieces.
His attention was held by one. A necklace of sunflowers—a beautiful swirl of gemstones and precious metals—and beneath it a sticker that proclaimed it sold. His eyes moved to rubies arranged like a field of wild poppies and set in white gold. They weren’t slender chains...more like subtle jewelled garlands with leaves.
He pulled his head back when he realised the jeweller had come out of the office and was standing behind him.
‘Signor Casadio wanted a few moments alone.’
‘Grazie.’ Dante nodded, grateful for the time taken and the kindness shown to his grandfather—and he knew it wasn’t just because the Casadios had once been regular clients, it was how things were done here. ‘Are these your work?’ he asked.
‘They are.’ Signor Adino nodded.
‘Exquisite.’
‘Thank you. They are a labour of love.’
Perhaps he could break another rule? He wasn’t one for gifts, or romantic gestures, and certainly gave nothing as personal as jewellery. But he and Susie had got personal, and even if it could never last this weekend had meant a lot.
He’d heard the edge in her voice as she’d asked about the gifts he gave, about how he would end things.
Nicely.
Nicer than he’d ever been, perhaps?
‘Do you have magnolias?’
‘I don’t.’
‘Anything similar?’
‘No...’ The jeweller shook his head. ‘These two are bespoke pieces—they are being collected this week. They are certainly not impulse purchases,’ he scolded lightly. ‘They take weeks to make. First a design is decided on, then the mould is cast...’
‘So, not for me then?’ Dante got the message and gave a wry laugh. ‘I was just...’ He didn’t know quite what he’d been thinking, but then he smiled and looked up as Gio came out. ‘Okay?’
‘Yes.’ Gio nodded and came over to thank Signor Adino profusely.
‘So,’ Dante said as they walked back to Gio’s. ‘What did you choose?’
‘That is for Mimi to reveal,’ Gio retorted. ‘I haven’t even asked her to marry me yet. Haven’t I taught you anything?’
Dante saw him back to his house, and then his grandfather said he was going for a sleep.
‘You no doubt have a flight to catch,’ Gio said as he farewelled him. ‘Thank you for taking the day off today.’
‘Any time,’ Dante said. ‘Well, not any time,’ he warned as he kissed Gio goodbye. ‘No getting married too soon; I have a case coming up...’
‘I know you do.’
Gio certainly looked happier than when he’d arrived, Dante thought as he walked along the walls in the direction of home.
At times he had felt happy too.
But he knew he couldn’t stay in bed with Susie for ever.
He sat on a bench and thought of how their conversations had started to deepen.
He’d wanted to know more about her.
And yet...
It was still hell to be here.
He thought of all those jewels splayed out on the velvet, and his grandfather thinking him cold because he could barely bring himself to look at them.
Susie was right. Old memories tainted the future.
Perhaps he would suggest she come to Milan this weekend?
He thought of her busy schedule, and the scant direct flights.
Then he closed his eyes in despair as he realised Gio had been right to doubt he was over the accident.
Dante got on and off helicopters with little thought. He just accepted that he had to, and took the risk...
But he could not stand the thought of Susie up in one.
‘Susie?’ The language teacher smiled. ‘You are distracted today.’
‘Sorry...’
Susie apologised, and tried to focus on the class, but her mind was in a hundred different places, and when it was time for a break, rather than find coffee and a chat she slipped off in search of peace.
The school had a magnificent balcony and Susie stepped out—just for some air and a moment.
Gosh, she was going to start crying, she thought, trying to remind herself that a few days ago she hadn’t known him. The last time she’d attended class Dante hadn’t even factored into her life. Perhaps it was better that she fired off a message now and told him she couldn’t make it tonight.
Or maybe she’d decide after her lunchtime shift?
Then she stilled, for there on a bench he sat, staring out to the hills. She pulled back from the edge of the balcony and tried to tell herself to just go back to class.
Then she watched as he tipped his head back, as she might at the hairdresser’s. But that only described the motion he made—it didn’t explain why that movement had tears spilling down her cheeks.
She was witnessing agony.
‘How was class?’ Dante asked, letting the exhausted Susie in.
‘It was okay,’ she said.
‘Work?’
‘Long,’ she admitted, taking off her awful shoes.
He helped her with her scarf and coat.
He sounded normal, and he certainly looked beautiful—no sign of the man she’d seen sitting alone and despairing on that bench.
‘How was the jeweller’s?’ she asked.
‘It was okay,’ he told her. ‘I’m not allowed to know what he chose for Mimi, of course. I meant to call Maria...’
‘Who’s Maria?’
‘My housekeeper. I forgot to tell her I would be here tonight. I was going to ask her to get some food in. But I’ll call for something—or we can go out?’
‘Or I could make something?’ Susie said.
‘You’ve been at work.’
‘I work most days,’ Susie said, and smiled. ‘And I eat most days too.’
She liked how he laughed and kissed her, and it was heaven to be back here. Really, she’d been stupid to think she couldn’t handle it. It was just one more night, and she wanted to be here, so...
‘Anyway...’ She wriggled from his arms. ‘I’ve been dying to get into your kitchen.’ She laughed at his expression. ‘Don’t worry, Dante, I just miss cooking. There are only two little gas rings at the apartment, and a microwave and a toaster.’
‘I really don’t have any food.’
She opened up his cupboards and then peered into his fridge. ‘And you had the cheek to tell me off about your grandfather’s meagre fridge contents!’ She saw a lonely tub of ricotta and a couple of other cheeses. ‘I’ll be fine with these.’
‘You’re sure?’
She nodded. ‘There’s a recipe I’ve been dying to try,’ she told him, taking down a bag of walnuts from a cupboard. ‘You’ve got most things I need.’
‘Do you want some wine?’
‘No, thank you.’ She pulled out some flour and looked at his glass. ‘I thought you didn’t like wine?’
‘Hmm...’ He put down his glass and rather elegantly hopped onto the large marble bench, watching her pulling out jars he clearly hadn’t known he had. ‘I’m seriously hungry,’ he warned, obviously not believing that nuts, cheese and some flour could be turned into much.
‘I know.’
‘Hey, Susie? What if your cooking is terrible?’ he asked, making her smile. ‘Do I have to pretend I like it?’ he teased.
‘Since when did you ever do that?’ She smirked. ‘You can give me your usual honest opinion.’
She was loving this...making pasta, stretching it, running it through the machine and watching as the lovely soft white sheets came out.
Dante sat watching her. It was unusual to see anyone other than Maria in his kitchen—and certainly he didn’t sit and watch his housekeeper cook.
‘I’ve got to go to court,’ he told her. ‘The wife read the husband’s letter yesterday.’
‘But he only posted it on Friday.’
‘Through her door. Where he shouldn’t even have been.’
‘Gosh...’
‘And he’s not supposed to contact her, so another rap on the knuckles for me. He’s offered, in his own handwriting, far more than had been agreed. Now he wants to change his mind. What a mess...’
‘Do you like the wine?’ she asked.
‘I do...’ He took another sip of wine, unable to voice more, because he could hardly believe he was drinking wine and thinking about the winery.
Thinking about taking on a little more responsibility for it.
He was grateful for the loud buzz as she blended walnuts, yet the large kitchen still felt peaceful.
Gio had never legally passed the business on to Dante’s father, even though it had caused a few arguments...
‘You’ll get it when I’m gone,’ Gio would declare. ‘For now, it stays with me.’
And that had proved important when tragedy had struck...
‘My father had very big ideas for the winery,’ he told her. ‘Though Gio wouldn’t let him get his hands on it. Rosa’s family did too. They wanted to blend the two of them...’
Susie looked up.
‘But Gio was having none of it. He would say, “You can do what you want with it when I’m gone...”’
‘Did you ever want to be a part of it?’
‘No—nor did Sev. Maybe we would have got involved somewhere down the line, but we wanted our own careers first.’
He watched as she placed little balls of mixture on the sheet of pasta, and found that watching Susie made it all too easy to voice his thoughts out loud. To want to voice them.
‘If my father had been a shareholder on his death that share would have passed to Sev and I. And any of our spouses would have had a stake.’
‘Ah, but you’re going to be single for ever,’ Susie said.
There were little parcels of ravioli all over his bench now, and she was concentrating on her sauce.
‘Sev wasn’t single.’
‘No,’ Susie agreed, and turned to him and offered a sympathetic smile. ‘Rosa died, though.’
‘Where there’s a will there’s a family...’ Dante said. ‘Do they say that in England?’
‘I don’t know.’
Susie gave a small laugh and got on with tasting her sauce.
Dante knew she didn’t get it that if Gio had not been so wise then Rosa’s family might have had a claim. It was the sort of thing that had kept him in the library for hours, long before her death, reading all the details in the books that lined the walls.
While he’d never anticipated losing his family, Dante had always been sure the De Santises had been trying to get hold of Gio’s rich, fertile land and become a part of the successful winery business.
He took a sip of his wine—blackcurrant with a hint of pepper...
If the De Santises had had their way they’d be drinking vinegar by now.
Yes, Gio had been wise.
And, yes, perhaps he should have spoken to him—at least about the legal side...
Not about the sex or the pregnancy that never was.
That would be too much for Gio.
Too much for anyone.
‘Nearly there,’ Susie said, walking past the bench as she went to get a large copper saucepan.
He trapped her with his legs as she passed. ‘It looks great.’
‘You haven’t tasted it yet.’
‘Can I help?’ he asked, knowing it was almost done.
‘You can lay the table.’
‘Or...’ He pulled her in, looked at the flour on her cheeks and on her black dress, and found he was more than happy not to think about the De Santis family any more. ‘We could eat in bed...’
‘I want it to be nice.’ She looked at him. ‘I haven’t cooked in for ever.’
‘I shall lay the table, then.’
He did indeed lay the table—the grand table in his dining room—and he even lit candles.
‘Susie!’ he called as she passed by with plates. ‘In here.’
She stepped in and her jaw dropped—not so much at the stunning polished table and the jade walls, but at the silver candelabra.
‘I meant the coffee table... And candles?’ she commented as she put down their plates. ‘That’s very romantic of you, Signor Casadio.’
‘I think the food calls for it,’ he said, turning out the main lights.
‘We’ll see...’
‘Take a seat,’ Dante said, and held out her chair.
‘Thank you.’
Susie felt nervous as he sat down and looked at what she’d made. She always did when she tried something new, but somehow tonight it mattered more than ever.
‘Ricotta ravioli with a walnut sauce...’
Dante looked at the food before him. He had eaten in many, many fine restaurants and this wouldn’t be out of place in any of them—and all made from the scant selection in his cupboards.
He looked at the little garnish of parsley. ‘It looks very nice,’ he said, then turned his plate and nodded.
He picked up a fork and sliced a piece of ravioli, then took a mouthful and tasted it as carefully as Gio would taste wine.
Susie almost wished he’d just dive in and declare it ‘nice’ or ‘awful’, as her ex had. But then she’d hated it when he did that.
Dante took his time.
‘Okay...’ he said at last, when he’d swallowed the first mouthful. And she knew he wasn’t saying that about her food.
He thought for a moment, and took another taste of her walnut sauce, before delivering his conclusion.
‘Tell Cucou that you want a trial.’ He looked right at her. ‘Demand it.’
‘I can’t demand it!’ She laughed away the very thought. ‘Is it nice, though?’
‘Susie, I was always going to be polite, no matter if it was nice or not. I was always going to say it was delicious, because I am polite and you cooked it. But this belongs in any top restaurant I have eaten in. I want to eat it all immediately. Even if you offered sex, right now on the table, I would want to finish my food first.’
‘Honestly?’
‘Offer me sex on the table and I’ll prove it.’
She laughed, and yet she felt close to crying. It was the first time someone had really, properly talked with her about her cooking.
‘Tell them you want a trial,’ he repeated.
‘I already have. They’re not interested. I don’t have experience... I can’t speak the language.’
‘Tell them food is your language, and then suggest they give you a chance or you’ll walk out.’
‘I need the job.’
‘Susie, they’re testing you. You have to be tough to survive in a kitchen like that. They would not have you preparing food for my grandfather if they didn’t think the world of you. He is a very well thought of man here.’
‘Yes...’
‘Stand up for yourself. You might find they are just waiting for you to do so.’
She’d never considered such a thing.
It was a gorgeous night.
‘I don’t know what was better,’ Dante said a whole lot later, as they lay there breathless and sated. ‘The food or the sex...’
Such a gorgeous night...
So much so she forgot to dread the morning.
Even as it arrived...