Читать онлайн книгу «Whisked Away By Her Sicilian Boss» автора Rebecca Winters
Whisked Away By Her Sicilian Boss
Rebecca Winters
The princess and the billionaire! Princess Tuccianna Leonardi has fled from her arranged marriage and desperately needs a place to hide from her family. So when gorgeous Sicilian billionaire Cesare Donati offers her a job as his hotel's new pastry chef, it seems like all Tuccia's prayers have been answered.As they work together morning, noon and night, Cesare soon falls for his raven-haired beauty. Romance might be simmering between them, but with Tuccia still on the run, can Cesare keep his princess safe and promise her their happy-ever-after?The Billionaire’s ClubMeet the world’s most eligible bachelors
The princess and the billionaire
Princess Tuccianna Leonardi has fled from her arranged marriage and desperately needs a place to hide from her family. So when gorgeous Sicilian billionaire Cesare Donati offers her a job as his hotel’s new pastry chef, it seems like all Tuccia’s prayers have been answered.
As they work together morning, noon and night, Cesare soon falls for his raven-haired beauty. Romance might be simmering between them, but with Tuccia still on the run, can Cesare keep his princess safe and promise her their happy-ever-after?
The Billionaire’s Club
Meet the world’s most eligible bachelors…
by
Rebecca Winters
For tycoons Vincenzo Gagliardi, Takis Manolis and Cesare Donati, transforming the Castello di Lombardi into one of Europe’s most highly sought-after hotels will be more than just a business venture—it’s a challenge to be relished!
But these three men, bound by a friendship as strong as blood, are about to discover that the chase is only half the fun as three women conquer their hearts and change their lives for ever…
Return of Her Italian Duke
Bound to Her Greek Billionaire
Whisked Away by Her Sicilian Boss
Available now!
Whisked Away by Her Sicilian Boss
Rebecca Winters
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
REBECCA WINTERS lives in Salt Lake City, Utah. With canyons and high alpine meadows full of wildflowers, she never runs out of places to explore. They, plus her favourite holiday spots in Europe, often end up as backgrounds for her romance novels—because writing is her passion, along with her family and church. Rebecca loves to hear from readers. If you wish to email her, please visit her website at www.cleanromances.com (http://www.cleanromances.com).
To all of you readers who have read my books and let me know you enjoy them.
You’ll never know what your kind, encouraging words do to make this author’s job a pure delight!
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Contents
Cover (#ue68da988-1feb-5c1c-8e3a-e75befca5858)
Back Cover Text (#uee702e8a-c4e6-566d-befb-d7bfc049a082)
The Billionaire’s Club (#u1f5a23e1-8a3a-58a7-ae46-40fbca083362)
Title Page (#u2412e71d-b7b9-5dd2-8946-d1e9e63db635)
About the Author (#u7f1047f6-b7e0-5a8c-aa46-8ab934d54b94)
Dedication (#ufccb859b-5d22-535c-9ee5-a06bff9d039e)
CHAPTER ONE (#u8c762b57-d2be-5a32-a823-277c140ab00d)
CHAPTER TWO (#uc4309bf1-a558-5bd6-92eb-06ee4f9b46b2)
CHAPTER THREE (#u261d94cb-ba5f-5f8b-8299-01b5f84500ff)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u51bec55f-0cf1-566b-b156-33dae1e7d11d)
Salon des Reines, Paris, France
THE CHAUFFEUR OF Le Comte Jean-Michel Ardois pulled the limousine up in front of the bridal salon on the Rue de L’Echelle. In the last two weeks Princess Tuccianna Falcone Leonardi of Sicily had been here with her mother three times for the bridal dress fitting. Each time they’d come, she’d made excuses to visit the bathroom in order to study the layout of the exclusive shop.
This morning was her final fitting to make sure everything was perfect for the wedding ceremony tomorrow. Only Tuccia had no intention of showing up for the elaborate nuptials arranged by her parents and Comte Ardois ten years ago in a horrifying, ironclad betrothal forced upon her. She’d dreamed of her freedom forever. Now had come the moment for her escape.
Madame Dufy, the owner, welcomed them inside. After fussing over Tuccia and telling her how excited she was for her forthcoming marriage to the comte, she took them back to the dressing room befitting a queen.
“Delphine will be with you in just a moment with your gown. It’s as exquisite as you are, Princess.”
The second she left, Tuccia turned to her mother, the Marchesa di Trabia of Sicily. “I need to go to the restroom.”
“Surely not!”
“I can’t help it. You know how I get when I’m nervous.”
“You are impossible, Tuccia!”
“If I don’t go, it might happen in here.”
Her mother’s hands flew up in the air. “All right! But don’t take too long. We have a long list of things that must be done today.”
“I’ll hurry, Mamma.”
Yes, she’d hurry. Right out of the clutches of the comte!
She knew he planned to assign her a bodyguard the moment they were married and never let her out of his sight for the rest of their lives. After overhearing him discuss it with her parents, who’d said she needed a strong hand, she’d been planning how to disappear.
Tuccia opened the door and walked down the hall to the door of the bathroom. But she only went inside to leave her betrothal ring on the floor near the sink. Whoever found it could think what they wanted. After looking around to make sure no one had seen her, she rushed down another hallway straight out the back door of the shop.
From there it was only a short run down the alley used for delivery trucks to the street where she climbed in a taxi.
“Le Bourget Aeroport, s’il vous plait.”
Her heart refused to stop thudding as they drove off. She looked behind her. No one had come running out of the alley chasing after her yet. Tuccia prayed all the way to the airport where she boarded an Eljet chartered for her under a fake name and paid for her by her aunt Bertina. Once it landed in Palermo, Sicily, she’d take a taxi to her aunt’s palazzo.
Before long Tuccia’s favorite person in the whole world would be offering her sanctuary. Her life would continue to depend on Bertina’s help, or all was lost.
The next day, Milan, Italy
Dinner had concluded in the private dining room of the legendary fourteenth-century castello, the home of the former first Duc di Lombardi in Milan, Italy.
Vincenzo Gagliardi, the present-day duc, lifted his goblet with the insignia of the Gagliardi coat of arms. “Buona fortuna this trip, Cesare. Our business is depending on you. May you return with my wife’s replacement soon. The baby will be here in two months. I want Gemma off her feet ASAP.”
“Amen,” Takis declared, raising his glass. “You’re going to have to be quick, amico.” He touched his goblet to Cesare’s, and they sipped the local vintage Lombardia that Vincenzo had produced from the vast wine cellar for his send-off.
Cesare Donati eyed his two best friends with a smile. They’d been like brothers to him for more than a decade. Together they’d turned the former fortress palace of Vincenzo’s family into the five-star Castello Supremo Hotel and Ristorante di Lombardi, Europe’s most sought-after resort.
“I have a surprise for you. I’ll be back in two days with our new pastry chef. I told Gemma as much this morning.”
“That soon?” they said in unison.
“It’s been arranged for a while, so have no concerns.”
His friends smiled in relief. For Cesare’s contribution to their successful enterprise, he’d already found the perfect person to replace Gemma as the castello’s new executive pastry chef.
But he’d been keeping the identity of his choice a secret until he could present Ciro Fragala in person with one of his many specialties for their delectation.
Vincenzo’s wife had learned to make Florentine pastry from her mother who’d cooked for the last duc. Though her cooking was perfection and drew the elite clientele that came to the castello, in Cesare’s opinion the best cook in the world was his own Sicilian mother.
She’d learned from the nuns who made divine pastries and ran the orphanage where she’d been raised until she turned eighteen. On her say-so—and she would know better than anyone else—Cesare had done the necessary research on Signor Fragala, the pastry cook she’d declared to be the finest in all Sicily. After a visit to the Palermo restaurant with his mother two months ago, he’d agreed totally with her assessment.
Hiring Ciro meant sensational new desserts for their business enterprise in Milan. The two of them had met with the fifty-five-year-old widower several times in the last few weeks. The chef had said he would leap at the chance to work at the famous castello restaurant.
Since he didn’t have children, it wouldn’t be a problem to move. He’d given his notice and Cesare planned to fly him to Milan. The new chef would work well with their executive French chef at the castello. Most of all, the guys would be pleased by the man’s amiable personality.
“We’ll drive you to the airport,” Vincenzo stated.
Cesare shook his head. “Thanks, but you’ve done enough by surprising me with this dinner. You’ve both got pregnant wives who’ve been generous enough to let us have this meal together. By now they’ll be wondering where you are. The limo is waiting as we speak.”
“Then we’ll walk you out,” Vincenzo murmured.
“Grazie.”
He drained the rest of his wine and got to his feet. Reaching for the suitcase he’d left by the double doors, he moved ahead of them to the portrait-lined corridor of the former ducs with their legendary silvery eyes.
“Stay safe,” Takis said as Cesare climbed in the rear of the limo.
“Always.”
Vincenzo smiled. “We can’t wait to meet this mystery paragon of pastry chefs.” He patted Cesare’s shoulder and shut the door before it drove away from the castello.
Two hours later, the Lombardi ducal jet arrived at Palermo International Airport, where another limousine waited for him on the tarmac. Cesare told the driver to take him to the posh Mondello borough. It was there he’d bought a villa in the famed art nouveau style for his mother and sister who was now married and lived in the city with her husband and their toddler.
He’d wanted nothing but the best for his wonderful mamma, Lina Donati.
She would never leave Palermo. After being raised by the nuns and learning how to cook from them, she’d started out working in a local restaurant after leaving the orphanage.
Her subsequent marriage was short-lived. Abandoned by her husband, she’d cooked her way through life to support their little family and had made a name for herself. Cesare believed she made the best food on earth. In her honor he’d had a state-of-the-art kitchen installed because he couldn’t do enough for her.
Thanks to a bad back from being on her feet all the time, she now cooked exclusively for Bertina Spadaro, who wasn’t a demanding employer. Cesare had begged her to retire. He would take care of her forever. But his mother said she couldn’t imagine not having work to do and she loved Bertina. The aristocratic older sister of the Marchesa di Leonardi di Trabia had become her friend.
The Leonardi family descended from the royal Sicilian family of the commune of Trabia, thirty miles from Palermo, and could trace their roots back to the 1400s, when the land and castle were granted them by Frederick III. The present marchese and marchesa had established their own palazzo in the heart of Palermo.
Bertina and Lina had become fast friends over the years and were in each other’s confidence. The rest of the time his mother spent with Cesare’s family, or tended her spectacular herb garden.
The elite area of Mondello had everything: exclusive yachting clubs dotting its sandy beach, restaurants, shops and a marina with numerous yachts, including the marchese’s gleaming white royal yacht that stood out from the others.
Before buying the villa for her, Cesare, too, had been captivated as he’d walked through the sand of its private beach front, inhaling the air filled with the heady scent of orange blossoms and jasmine. Whenever he flew to Palermo, Cesare was reminded that with all its rich history, there was nowhere else in the world he found more fascinating.
But tonight as they drove into the ancient, colorful city, he was met with the strong smells of fish and spices that always brought back memories of his youth. There was a hint of the old Arab souks, taking him back to his childhood. As a boy, these streets with their subtle niches and labyrinths had been his backyard.
His father had been in the merchant marines, but ran off before Cesare was a year old, leaving his mother to work in a trattoria and support him and his older sister Isabella. They’d lived in the apartment above it in a rougher neighborhood of Palermo. Cesare’s world had been filled with lots of purse snatchers, few showers that usually didn’t work, grueling heat. Everything had been run-down and chaotic.
Since he’d been too young to remember his father, he didn’t miss him, only the idea of him. Cesare had envied his friends who had fathers and taught them things. Early in life he’d felt embarrassed at times that he was the only one who went to mass unaccompanied while the other boys walked in the church with their own fathers.
As he grew up, the embarrassment went away, but he lacked the confidence he saw in his friends whose sense of belonging seemed to give them an extra layer of it.
Cesare couldn’t comprehend a man abandoning his wife and children, never caring about them again. Sometimes in his teens he’d dreamed about meeting his father, but those dreams were unsatisfactory because his father always turned away from him. The dreams eventually stopped, but not the feeling that there was something lacking in him.
At the age of thirty, Cesare was living a different life. Thanks to the college mentor who’d taught him and his partners how to invest, his worth now figured in the billions. But the past could never be forgotten and had formed him into the man he’d become.
Over time he’d seen enough to decide romantic love was transitory at most. Of course there were exceptions, like his partners’ marriages. But at this stage in his life Cesare wasn’t that confident that he was marriage material. He hadn’t witnessed two parents loving each other. So far he felt he was better off alone like his mother. With a sister and brother-in-law and their daughter Elana, Cesare was happy enough with the family he loved.
In fact he had all he needed, including the occasional relationship with a woman. There was no guarantee that one would stay with him if he did get married, or that it would last.
Or that he might not be more like his father than he thought...
From time to time that thought haunted him because he hadn’t met a woman who meant everything to him. Maybe he’d subconsciously pushed them away so he didn’t have to deal with commitment. Though he didn’t want to bring up past pain to his mother, one of these days he would have a talk with her about the man who’d disappeared on their family, on him.
When the limo finally reached the villa, Cesare put his darker thoughts away and paid the driver before getting out. His mother was expecting him, and knew he’d be flying Ciro Fragala back to Milan with him the next day. But it was close to one o’clock. She always went to bed early.
He’d told her not to wait up and they’d talk in the morning before Ciro arrived at the villa in a limo Cesare had arranged for ahead of time. The man would be shipping his belongings to Milan and he’d stay in a room at the castello until he decided where he wanted to live.
Every time Cesare came to Palermo, he was charmed by the large ochre-colored villa spread over two floors with three beautiful terraces and a Mediterranean garden. The small pool was lined with glazed tiles of North African origin.
From the terrace off the dining room he was met with a glorious view of the Gulf front. It was a sight he’d always loved after climbing the bluff called Mount Pellegrino many times in his youth. From there he could imagine himself escaping the suffocating heat and madness of the city and sailing away to America. Incredibly that dream had come true.
Once he’d entered the foyer, he turned off the outside light and moved across the stone tiles of the villa in the dark to the kitchen with his suitcase. After setting it down, his first instinct was to grab himself a small bottle of his favorite grappa digestivo from the cabinet where he knew it was kept, then head upstairs to his suite with it. Before sleep, all he wanted was to take a few sips to remind him he was back in the land of his roots.
But as he turned to pick up his suitcase, he bumped into another body and heard a cry.
“Mamma?” He automatically hugged her to him. “Mi dispiace tanto. I didn’t think you’d be up this late. Did I hurt you?”
That’s when the bottle slipped from his hand and cracked on the floor. But the strong scent of the 60 proof alcohol wasn’t nearly as shocking as the feel of the woman in his arms.
She wasn’t built anything like his wiry brunette mother or her housekeeper who came in several times a week. In fact she was taller than both of them. To add to his surprise, the flowery scent from her hair and skin intoxicated him. It took him a second to gather his wits.
“Don’t move. There’s broken glass. I’ll turn on the light.” He let her go and walked to the doorway to flip the switch. Cesare was shocked yet again.
If he didn’t know better, he would think he’d released a gorgeous enchanted princess from her bottle. Her stunning figure was swathed in a lemon silk robe. Thank heaven she was wearing sandals. Between her medium-length black curls and eyes gray as the morning mist off the ocean, his gaze managed to swallow her whole before he realized she looked familiar to him. He knew he’d seen her before but couldn’t place her.
She stared back as if disbelieving before taking a few steps away from the wet mess on the stone flooring. A hand went to her throat. “You’re Cesare,” she murmured, sounding astonished.
“I’m afraid you’ve got me at a disadvantage, signorina.” Maybe he was in the middle of a fantastic dream, but so far he hadn’t awakened. Quickly he walked over to the utility closet for a cloth and brush to pick up the glass and clean the floor.
“My name is Tuccia. I’m so sorry to have startled you.”
Tuccia. An unusual name.
Tuccia. Short for... Princess Tuccianna of Sicilian nobililty?
Over the years there’d been photos of her in the newspapers from time to time, mostly stories about her escapades away from the royal palazzo where she got into trouble with friends and was seen partying in local clubs to the embarrassment of the royal household. But Cesare had never seen her up close.
The latest news in the Palermo press reported she was engaged to be married to some French comte who lived in Paris and was one of the wealthiest men in France.
No. It couldn’t be, yet he realized it was she.
“I’m afraid I don’t recognize it,” he dissembled until he could work out why the daughter of the Marchese and Marchesa of the ancient Sicilian House of Trabia, was in his mother’s villa.
“You probably wouldn’t. It’s not common.”
She was trying to put Cesare off, but he intended to get to the bottom of this mystery. “Did Mamma hire you to be a new maid?”
She averted her eyes. “No. Signora Donati allowed me to stay with her for tonight.” He frowned, not having known anything about this. Why hadn’t his beloved mother told him what to expect when he arrived? “I—I thought I heard a noise, signor,” she stammered, “but I didn’t have time to turn on the light.”
“No. We were both taken by surprise,” he murmured, still reeling from the sensation of her incredible body clutched to his so she wouldn’t fall.
Cesare had enjoyed various relationships with attractive women over the years, but he’d never gotten into anything serious. Yet the feel and sight of the beautiful young princess, whose face was like something out of Botticelli, had shaken him.
“I guess you know you have the most wonderful mother in the world,” she gushed all of a sudden, breaking in on his private thoughts. He was amazed by her comment. It had sounded completely sincere.
He closed the utility door and turned to her, growing more curious by the second. “I do. How did you two meet?”
His question caused her to hesitate. “I think it would be better if you ask her. I’m truly sorry to have disturbed you and will say goodnight.” She darted away, leaving him full of questions and standing there wide awake in the trail of her fragrance.
The princess, reputed to be a spoiled, headstrong handful, had elegance and manners. Damn if she didn’t also have an unaffected charm that had worked its way beneath his skin.
He took a deep breath. Though Cesare didn’t like waking his mother, he knew there’d be no sleep until he had answers. Before heading upstairs to her bedroom, he opened the cabinet for another bottle of grappa. All he found was a half-opened bottle of cooking sherry.
That’s what he got for not turning on the light earlier. That and the memory of a moment in time he feared wasn’t about to let him go.
* * *
With a pounding out-of-control heart, twenty-five-year-old Principessa Tuccianna Falcone Leonardi rushed to the guest room down the hall at the rear of the villa. She should never have made a trip to the kitchen, but needed something to drink. Lina had told her to help herself to anything, including the soda she kept on hand in the fridge.
Being crushed unexpectedly against a hard male body in the dark had come as such a huge surprise that her mind and body were still reeling. She could still feel the male power of him and smell the faint scent of the soap he’d used in the shower. The combination had completely disarmed her.
After he’d turned on the kitchen light, she’d had her first look at Lina’s tall, incredibly attractive brown-haired son. Tuccia knew of him, but had no idea that Lina had given birth to the most striking man she’d ever seen in her life. Those deep blue eyes and his masculine potency had managed to make such an indelible impression her heart still kept turning over on itself.
“I didn’t know there was a man in Palermo who looked like that,” she whispered to herself. Tuccia was positive there wasn’t another one in all Europe who could match him.
More than ever she was revolted at the thought of marrying her forty-year-old French fiancé who had only stared at her with lust. The fabulously wealthy Comte Jean-Michel Ardois, who would soon inherit the title after his ailing father passed away, was always trying to touch her, and lately more and more inappropriately.
On occasion she’d seen him be quite ruthless with the people who worked for the Ardois family. He was a cold, calculating man whom she could never love or bring herself to marry.
Her betrothal at the age of sixteen had been a political necessity arranged by her parents, the Marchese and Marchesa di Trabia, whose funds needed constant bolstering. Since that time she’d felt doomed to an existence she’d dreaded with every fiber of her being.
After careful planning, she’d seized the moment to run away twenty-four hours before the ceremony was to take place. Taking flight from the boutique, she’d flown back to her home in Sicily. Thanks to her Zia Bertina, her mother’s widowed elder sister, she’d been given the help she needed to escape on that jet.
Bertina lived in her own palazzo in Palermo where she entertained close friends and loved Tuccia like the child she’d never been able to have. Tuccia’s zia was a romantic who’d always been in sympathy with her niece’s tragic situation, and had prevailed on her cook, Lina Donati, to let her hide at her villa overnight. In the meantime she was still trying to arrange transport for Tuccia to stay with a distant cousin living in Podgorica in Montenegro until the worst of the scandal had passed.
But Tuccia had placed her in a terrible position. Bertina had continued living in the palazzo after her husband died, but she needed monetary help on occasion. Tuccia’s zio, Pietro Spadaro, hadn’t been a wealthy man. If Tuccia’s parents got angry enough at Bertina, they could stop giving her extra money. They might throw her out of the only home she’d known since her marriage.
Worse, if they knew Bertina had involved a cousin in another country, let alone asked such a desperate favor of her adored cook to help solve Tuccia’s problems, who knew how ugly the situation could get. If Bertina were forced to lose the palazzo and any extra money, she wouldn’t be able to pay Lina for being her cook. Lina could be out of a job for harboring her. All of it would be her fault.
She couldn’t believe her bad luck in running into Lina’s son. Naturally he was going to wonder why she was here and question his mother. What she needed to do was get dressed and pack her bag so she’d be ready to steal from the villa at dawn before anyone was up.
Tuccia knew a full-scale search by Jean-Michel and her parents had been underway for her since she had disappeared from the salon. At least with her gone from Lina’s villa, Bertina wouldn’t be implicated.
She had saved enough money to take a bus and travel to Catania where she could get a job through a friend who would help her. If she were careful, she could subsist for a while. She didn’t dare access her bank account even though its pitiful balance had never been big enough to pay for as much as an airline ticket.
Tuccia had no idea how long she would have to remain hidden. But even if it meant being disowned and disinherited, it didn’t matter because she’d rather be dead than have to marry Jean-Michel. She was sickened at the thought of him taking her to bed, let alone living with him for a lifetime.
CHAPTER TWO (#u51bec55f-0cf1-566b-b156-33dae1e7d11d)
CESARE SAT AT the side of his mother’s bed, still trying to comprehend what she’d just told him. “Apparently you and Princess Tuccianna have enjoyed a relationship you never told me about.”
“Only since I started cooking for Bertina two years ago. Until tonight I’d been sworn to secrecy. She needs help desperately, Cesare.”
He reached for her hand. “Don’t you know what a terrible position this has put you in, Mamma? The authorities from two governments are looking everywhere for her. Her jilted fiancé could be dangerous. He has the kind of money and power that could crush you. If her parents found out you gave her shelter, your name could be ruined. You could lose your job with Bertina. They could make life miserable for you.”
“It’s Tuccia’s life I’m worried about, not mine. You know how I feel about titles. It’s a feudal system. No young woman should have to marry a man almost twice her age because of money and power. You can’t imagine how frightened Bertina is for her niece. The comte will impose his will on her. She’s very beautiful. And you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Cesare was afraid he did. He’d seen first-hand the trouble that kind of will had created for Vincenzo and Vincenzo’s cousin Dimi. The two had grown up together at the castello and had suffered through tragedy together because of overpowering parental dominance over both of them.
After Cesare had become close friends with the two royals he had learned their story, so he understood why the princess refused to be tied legally to a man who could do what he wanted to his young, helpless wife. Cesare was sickened by it himself, but his protective instincts had kicked in for his mother. He didn’t want her to be a part of this and he got up from the bed.
“How long have you agreed to let her stay with you?”
“Until Bertina has worked out an escape plan to get her to a distant relative in Montenegro no one will trace.”
He shook his head. “Of course they will! That’s no plan,” he bit out.
“I agree with you and I don’t like any of it, either. But the princess is desperate. Bertina has told me that the father, Comte Ardois, was promiscuous and notoriously unfaithful over the years. She has it on good authority that his son Comte Jean-Michel is exactly the same way.
“He’s had a mistress on the side for a long time. I can’t bear that kind of life for her. Neither can she! Tuccia is like a lamb going to the slaughter. To me it’s criminal!”
“What you’re telling me sounds like a repeat of the stories Vincenzo told me about life at the castello growing up.”
“So you do understand that Tuccia is a young sweet girl and needs to get far away from him while she still can.”
“Yes, but not at your expense.”
“Someone has to step up. If I lose my job because of this, I’ll find another one. If that isn’t possible, then I will let you take care of me. The point is, the marchesa and her husband have never been concerned about their daughter’s feelings. They’ve spent their whole lives doing their royal duty and expect the same from Tuccia. The princess is alone in this. If Bertina hadn’t chartered that jet for her so she could leave Paris, Tuccia would have been forced to walk down the aisle today and be married to a monster.”
His hands went to his hips. “But now she has you involved.”
“Because I want to be. I like Tuccia very much. If she were my daughter, I’d do whatever I could to save her from such a wretched life. You’re the most brilliant, clever man I’ve ever known, figlio mio. If I asked for your help this one time, would you do it for your mamma?”
Her blue eyes beseeched him. She was serious! He could see it and feel it.
“What do you think I could do?”
“Fly her to Milan tomorrow on the Gagliardi ducal jet with Ciro. Help her find a place to stay in the city where no one will think to look for her. She won’t be traced.”
His eyes narrowed. “Is this the reason you let her stay here tonight? Because you knew I was flying in and planned to use me?”
“Yes,” she answered with her usual refreshing honesty. “Have I ever asked you for a favor like this before? Time is of the essence.”
“Mamma—” His head reared in exasperation.
She sat up straighter in the bed. “I don’t see a problem. Tuccia’s crisis takes priority. That girl needs to be far away from here by tomorrow. It won’t hurt you to take her with you. Be sure she’s wearing a disguise. Signor Fragala won’t suspect who she is.”
He stopped pacing. “He’ll recognize her once we’re on board.”
“So you’ll swear him to secrecy. If he can’t be trusted, tell him you’ve changed your mind and won’t let him have the coveted chef position after all. It’s in your hands. Once you’ve settled her, you can take Ciro to the castello and get on with your business. Is that such a terrible thing to ask this one time?”
Cesare couldn’t fathom that they were having this conversation at three in the morning. “There’s no place she won’t be recognized.”
“Then take her to the castello with you. Smuggle her in a back entrance and hide her in one of the turret rooms for a few days. That will give her enough time to figure out a solid plan on her own. Besides being well-educated and well-traveled, she’s a very intelligent girl and resourceful.”
“And according to the papers, impossible,” he added.
“If you knew the truth, you wouldn’t judge her. Every time her name gets in the news, it’s because she has tried to run away from her family. But she always gets caught and is brought back. Her parents cover it up by saying that she’s an indulged, immature troublemaker. She’s the loveliest girl I’ve ever known, and it’s a tragedy how her life has been.”
Such accolades for the princess shocked him. His mother wasn’t about to relent on this. She was a fighter who had a heart of gold. That was how she’d made it through life.
“You’ll help me to help her, won’t you?”
Cesare loved and admired his mother more than any woman he’d ever known. After the hundreds of sacrifices she’d made for him and his sister growing up, how could he possibly turn her down?
Letting out a sigh he said, “Stop worrying. After Ciro arrives in the morning, I’ll take her to Milan tomorrow with us.” But not to the castello. He didn’t want the guys to know what was going on.
“If you’ll do that for me, I’ll love you forever.”
“I thought you already did,” he teased.
Her eyes had filled with tears. “Oh, Cesare. My dear son. Ti amo.” She started to get out of bed, but her phone rang. Her eyes darted to his in alarm. “Maybe something’s wrong with your sister or my little granddaughter—”
Cesare’s body stiffened. A phone call in the middle of the night could mean anything. Probably it was Bertina calling his mother to tell her the police were on their way over to the villa looking for the princess.
She reached for the cell phone on her bedside table and checked the caller ID. “It says San Giovanni Hospital.”
He stood stock-still while he waited to find out what was going on, but his mother did little talking. Once she hung up, she looked at him with haunted eyes.
“I’m afraid I have very bad news for you, Cesare.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ciro was rushed to the hospital a few hours ago with an infected lung and kidney. I thought he didn’t seem well when I visited the restaurant a few days ago and assumed he had a cold.
“He must undergo an operation to drain off the fluid. The nurse said he had the presence of mind to ask the hospital to contact me before he lost consciousness.”
“Santo Cielo,” Cesare murmured in disbelief. This whole night had turned into a bad dream. “The poor devil.”
“It’s terrible.”
“Get dressed and we’ll drive to the hospital in your car. Since he’s my responsibility, I’ll tell the hospital and take care of his medical bills.”
“Bless you. I’m getting ready now, but I’ll visit him alone and be your go-between until he has recovered. Right now you’ve got to take care of the princess. The sooner, the better. That phone call could have been Bertina alerting me that the police were on Tuccia’s trail. There’s no time to lose.”
There was no time for sleep, either, not while this situation continued. He walked to his suite to shower and change clothes for the flight back to Milan. Afterward he went downstairs to the kitchen to fix himself coffee. He found the delicious sweet rolls filled with ricotta and chocolate his mother always made for him when he came and ate several.
During his early morning feast, his mother joined him before leaving for the hospital. After she went out to her car, he contacted the pilot to let him know they’d be returning to Milan shortly, then he arranged for a limo to come to the villa. Now all he needed was for the princess to make an appearance.
* * *
It was six-thirty in the morning when Tuccia finished writing three letters at the desk in the guest bedroom. The first was her deepest apology to Jean-Michel, explaining why she couldn’t marry him and had run away. They weren’t in love with each other, and that was the only reason for two people to marry.
She put it in an envelope with his name and address on the front. When and where to mail it was the scary part and had to be considered carefully because her life depended on it.
Tuccia put the letter in her purse, then wrote two long thank-you letters to her zia and Lina. She signed them with love before leaving them on top of the dresser so Lina would be certain to see them. One of these days she would write to her parents, but that could wait.
After making the bed, she grabbed the small suitcase Bertina had loaned her and hurried through the villa to the kitchen for a piece of fruit. A ten-minute walk would take her to the shops where she could eat something more substantial and catch a bus.
“Where do you think you’re going in that disguise?” a deep familiar male voice asked as she reached the foyer.
Her camouflage consisted of a scarf she’d tied around her head like a lot of local women did to cover their hair. She turned around to see the man she hadn’t been able to erase from her thoughts, standing there in jeans and a jacket. He looked too marvelous to her this early in the morning.
“I wanted to slip out before your mother awakened so I wouldn’t disturb her. I left messages to thank her and my aunt.”
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate that, Principessa.”
Of course he’d recognized her and had talked with Lina. Now he knew everything about her situation. She was so sorry he’d been dragged into her problem. “Your mother has been exceptionally kind to me. I’m embarrassed my zia asked for her assistance, and I’m ashamed I accepted it because it has placed her in danger.”
“Mamma has a big heart. It sounds like Signora Spadaro does, too.”
Tears glazed her eyes. “They’re both strong, remarkable women, but they’ve done more than enough to help me. It’s time I dealt with the mess I’ve created for myself.”
She tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t give. Tuccia looked over her shoulder. “Is there a trick to unlocking it?”
With a half smile that gave her heart a jolt, he activated the remote in his hand and the door swung open.
“Thank you.” After a slight hesitation, she said, “It was a privilege to meet the famous son of Lina Donati. In case you didn’t know it, she thinks the sun rises and sets with you.”
Tuccia felt him follow her out the door into the balmy seventy-seven-degree air where a limousine had pulled in the drive. She put on her sunglasses. Apparently he was going somewhere. When she would have walked past it, he called to her.
“Mamma says you need to get out of Palermo immediately. If you’ll climb in the limo, I have the means to make that happen.”
His comment stopped her in her tracks. “You mustn’t get involved in my problem. I’m already weighed down with guilt and couldn’t handle any more.”
He opened the rear door. “But I am involved. I don’t believe I’ve ever helped a genuine princess in distress before and rather like the idea. Come on. You’ve been living dangerously since leaving Paris. Why stop now?”
His sense of humor caught her off guard and she chuckled in spite of the fear gripping her that this freedom couldn’t last. Not wanting to hold things up, she climbed in. He set her suitcase on the bank of seats in front of them and sat next to her, pulling the door shut. His rock-hard limbs brushed against her jeans-clad legs. The contact sent a dart of awareness through her body.
She heard him tell the chauffeur to drive them to the airport. They drove through a breathtaking portion of Mondello to the main route leading out of the city. Tuccia had the sensation of being spirited away where nothing could hurt her.
It was a heavenly feeling she’d never experienced before. She’d sell her soul for it to last, but she knew this wonderful moment could only be enjoyed until they reached the airport.
“Where are we going?” she asked at last, alive to everything about this extraordinary man.
“To Milan.”
“Where you work when you’re not in New York.”
“More importantly, it’s where you’ll be safe. I fear my mother has done far too much talking about me.”
“That’s because she loves you.” Tuccia had heard about the spectacular castello restaurant he owned and ran with his business partners. His other business interests in New York City were legendary. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to know that kind of love from my own parents.”
“That’s a lonely statement.”
“Now I’m doing too much talking and sound so sorry for myself, I’m ashamed. But you have no idea what I’d give to erase the image the country has of me. I’m not the tempestuous, volatile woman everyone believes me to be. I just want to be free like other women to make the kind of life I want for myself.”
“According to my mother, you’ve run away from a fate worse than death.”
“Put that way it sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? Unfortunately it’s true for me and I’ve dragged three innocent people into my personal disaster. I pray there won’t be any repercussions for you,” she half sobbed the words.
His hand grasped hers, sending a wave of warmth through her. “No one brought my mother and me kicking and screaming,” he teased gently. “If I were in your shoes and betrothed to some odious marchesa twice my age, I can promise you I would flee to the other side of the universe where no one would ever find me.”
Odious was the exact word to describe Jean-Michel.
The analogy was so ludicrous she found herself laughing. But it underlined the fact that Cesare Donati wasn’t married. Tuccia couldn’t help but wonder how many women must have flung themselves at him.
“That’s better,” he said before releasing her hand.
Soon they arrived at the airport and were driven to the area where the private jets sat on the tarmac. The limo wound around and stopped next to one in silver and blue that stood out with a coat of arms depicting the Duc di Lombardi. A thrill of excitement passed through her to know she’d be flying to northern Italy with him. Just the two of them.
Once Cesare helped her out of the limo with her suitcase, the steward welcomed them aboard. He showed her to the elegant club compartment where she sat across from her protector as she thought of him. Pretty soon the Fasten Seat Belt light went on and she heard the scream of the engines as they taxied out to the runway.
After they’d taken off and achieved cruising speed, the light went off and the steward brought them breakfast trays. She found she was starving and ate everything, including a second cup of coffee to drink.
Cesare flashed her a searching glance. “How long has it been since you had a substantial meal?”
“My aunt kept trying to feed me after I arrived in Palermo, but I was so nervous I couldn’t eat very much. Now I’m hungry.”
“How did you manage your escape so perfectly when all of your other attempts have failed?”
“I can see my aunt has told your mother everything about my past.” Tuccia heaved a sigh. “I’ve been planning this latest scheme since my first dress fitting two months ago. Yesterday morning I went to the dressmaker with my mother for the final wedding dress fitting.
“When Madame Dufy went to find the dressmaker and bring out my gown, I told my mother I needed to use the ladies’ room and hurried down the hallway. As soon as no one was in sight, I shot out the back door of the salon. I knew there was a nearby tête de taxi. From there I was driven to the airport where Bertina had chartered a private jet for me ahead of time under a fake name. And here I am.”
His gaze held hers. “That was a daring plan.”
“I’m sure you think me selfish and cruel, but it was the only way to end the nightmare of my life. I’ve written a letter to Jean-Michel to apologize. It’s all ready to be mailed except for a stamp.”
“Where is it?”
“In my purse.”
“May I see it?”
When she pulled it out, he walked over and took it from her. After examining the address, he put it in his pocket. “I’ll make sure he gets it without the police being able to trace it.”
“You must think me heartless and that I’m living up to all the falsehoods spread about me. Actually they’re not all false. I do have a bad temper that erupts at times and I’ve gotten a lot of staff into trouble who were supposed to keep a close watch on me.”
After a silence he said, “What I think doesn’t matter.” The Fasten Seat Belt light went on again. He strapped himself in. “We’re descending to Milan. Very soon I’ll take you to a place where you’ll be hidden from the world and hopefully safe for another twenty-four hours. While you’re figuring out what it is you would like to do with the rest of your life, I’ll have to leave you, but I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
Her spirits plunged at that revelation. “Where are you going?”
“To Palermo.”
“Again? I don’t understand.”
“I’m going to see the man I’d hired to be the castello’s new executive pastry chef.”
Her brows met in a delicate frown. “Why didn’t you visit with him before you brought me all this way first?”
The pilot set the jet down and it taxied to a stop. “Because he was rushed to the hospital during the night and couldn’t come with me to start his new position. He was supposed to meet my partners today and get settled in.”
“Oh, how terrible for him and you!”
“Since you needed to leave Palermo before the authorities caught up to you, I brought you instead.”
The man continued to astound her. She shook her head. “I can’t believe you would do that for me.” Tuccia loved him already for his sacrifice.
His blue eyes darkened with an emotion she couldn’t put her finger on. “Mamma said it was a matter of life and death. After learning how desperate you are to escape the life your parents and fiancé have orchestrated for you, I’m inclined to believe she was telling the truth.”
His compassion filled her with feelings that threatened to overwhelm her. “Please—you don’t have to send my letter to the comte. It’s too much. I’ll find a way to do it,” she said in a throbbing voice he could probably feel.
“It’s a simple thing that needs to be done so he’ll call off his army. There’s no one like you, and no question he wants you back. Needless to say, you’re a royal prize he won’t tolerate getting away from him.”
Tuccia shivered because she felt he truly did understand the gravity of her desperate situation where Jean-Michel was involved.
A few minutes later another limousine drove them out of the city. They swept past farms and villas until they reached a small village at the base of a prominent hill. On the top she caught sight of a massive fortress. The ochre-toned structure with its towers and crenellated walls sprawled across the summit.
“That’s the ancient Castello Di Lombardi,” Cesare explained, “now a hotel ristorante.”
The one he’d helped to make famous. Tuccia was eager to see it up close and thought they would drive up there. Instead he asked the driver to take them to a pensione in the village. Evidently he’d made arrangements for her ahead of time.
Just as he helped her out of the limo and told the driver to wait, the padrona di casa came out of another door. She greeted them and showed them inside the attractive apartment. After a few explanations she left. Cesare lowered Tuccia’s suitcase to the floor and turned to her.
“You should be very comfortable here while I’m gone. I asked her to fill the cupboards and fridge with groceries to last several days. As you heard her say, if you need anything, just pick up the phone in the kitchen and she’ll answer.”
The last thing Tuccia wanted was for him to go, but she realized he was anxious to get back to Palermo and didn’t dare keep him. What a terrible position he was in!
“I don’t know how to thank you for all you’ve done for me. How can I make this up to you?”
He studied her features for a minute. “I’ve had two friends who helped me when I thought all was lost. It’s nice to be on the giving end for a change.”
She could feel her eyes smarting. “I don’t deserve this.”
“I remember telling them the same thing. A word of warning. Do you have a cell phone on you?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t use it for any reason and don’t go walking in the village. The only person who knows you are here is the woman who let you in. She’s a friend and will keep silent. When I return, we’ll talk. Until then, try to relax, watch TV. A presto, Principessa.”
“Alla prossima, Cesare.” She followed him to the door and watched him drive away, causing her heart to act up until it actually hurt.
Once he was gone, Tuccia went back in the living room for her suitcase. Then she walked to the bedroom so full of emotions, she didn’t know where to go with them. She didn’t know another person in the world except her aunt who would make a sacrifice like this for her. Cesare Donati was the most incredible man she’d ever known.
While she was in the shower, her mind focused on the chef he’d hired for his fabulous castello restaurant. He had to be a spectacular cook. How sad he’d fallen ill at the very moment he was supposed to go to Milan with Cesare.
She wished she could help him in some way during the short interim while the chef was recovering. Cesare had been so good to her and she wanted to find a way to repay him. She’d much rather stay right here. But of course the whole plan was to get her away from Jean-Michel and her parents.
You’re losing your mind, Tuccia.
* * *
On his way back to the airport Cesare phoned his mother, wondering what kind of a mess she could be in if the police had already found out she’d been harboring Tuccia at the villa.
She picked up on the fourth ring. “Cesare—where are you?” she blurted before he could say anything.
“You’ll be happy to know my mission has been accomplished. Are you alone?”
“Si.”
“Good. Now I can tell you the princess has been installed in a safe place.”
“Grazie a Dio. I can always count on you.”
She didn’t sound worried about the police yet. “I’m flying back to Palermo to be with you. If there are no complications, I should be there in about two hours. I’ll come straight to the hospital. After we’ve talked to the doctor and done all we can do there, I’ll take you out to eat and we’ll have a long talk. How does that sound?”
“Wonderful, except that there’s no point in your coming back unless you want me to help you find another pastry chef beyond Palermo. That could take months.”
“What do you mean another chef? I don’t understand. Ciro will get better with a treatment of antibiotics.”
“I thought so, too, but you’re not going to be happy when I tell you what I’ve just found out from the doctor. Ciro came close to dying during the night because he has developed a heart condition. The prognosis for a full recovery could be six months away.”
“Incredibile!”
“I know how upset you must be to hear that news, Cesare. I’m so sorry. He’s in the ICU and won’t be able to talk to anyone for a few days. There’d be no point in your coming right now. You might as well turn around and stay at the castello until he’s been given a private room and can have visitors. Then you can fly down and have a serious talk with him.”
The situation had gone from bad to worse. “Thank you for watching over him. I’m indebted to you.”
“Bless you for saving Tuccia’s life. What will you do about the chef position now?”
Right now Cesare’s concern over the princess had created the most stress for him. “That’s not your problem. I’ll just have to be the pastry chef myself and interview more applicants for the position. But let’s agree that finding someone who knows how to make Sicilian desserts with an expertise close to his or yours will be an endeavor in futility.”
“You make the best cassatine with almond paste in existence.”
“I learned from you, but that was years ago.”
“You never forget, but I’m desolate for you this has happened. What will Tuccia do? Did she talk to you about it during the flight?”
“Yes. She has a plan that might work.” For a day maybe. “I’ll think of something. Don’t you worry about it. Have you told Bertina her niece is safe?”
“I drove to the palazzo to tell her in person and give her Tuccia’s letter before returning to the hospital. She was so relieved she broke down sobbing before burning it.”
Good thinking on Bertina’s part. “Have the police questioned her yet?”
“Yes. She told them she knew nothing.”
“They’ll be contacting anyone who is friends with her, especially her cook. You’ll be receiving a visit soon. Don’t talk to her on the phone.”
“No worry. I’m at the hospital now and just finished reading Tuccia’s sweet letter to me before burning it.” He had a brilliant mother. “Thanks to your willingness to help the princess escape so fast, there’s no evidence she was ever at the villa, and of course I know nothing.” He chuckled in spite of his concern for her. “Stay in close touch with me.”
“Haven’t I always? Take care of yourself, Mamma.”
“You, too. I’ll talk to you later. Dio di benedica, Cesare.”
After they hung up, he told the limo driver to take him to the main express mail outlet in Milan. Asking him to wait, he went in to have Tuccia’s letter to the comte couriered overnight to Cesare’s attorney. Rudy Goldman always spent this time of year at his retreat in Barbados. Inside the mailing envelope he put the following instructions.
Rudy.
Put a stamp on this and send it airmail immediately.
Many thanks,
Cesare.
His attorney was the soul of discretion and always did what he was told without question. When Cesare had addressed the mailing envelope, he paid the clerk who put it in the slot. Before long it would be on its way to Bridgetown. The comte needed to receive it ASAP. Cesare knew in his gut the other man would start a search for his fiancée.
She was a prize. No one knew that better than Cesare. His thoughts wandered. Not every man would be worthy of her love when she had an ancestry that had made her unique in the world. Certainly not Cesare, whose family tree might as well have half a trunk missing. What could a fatherless man bring to a marriage with a princess?
Depressed by his thoughts, he returned to the limo and told the driver to take him back to the pensione. It was the same apartment where Vincenzo’s wife Gemma had once stayed when she’d come from Florence to the castello for an interview. The padrona could be trusted.
By the time the limo pulled up in front, Cesare had made up his mind to send Tuccia to the States in the morning. The police wouldn’t find her there and he could put her out of his mind. She was on it too much already.
He got out to the pay the driver, then walked to the front door of her apartment and knocked loud enough for her to hear. “Tuccia? It’s Cesare. May I come in?”
“You haven’t left for Palermo yet?” she called out in surprise. “I’ll be right there.”
In less than a minute she opened the door in bare feet, dressed in the yellow silk robe she’d worn in the middle of the night. He could smell the peach shampoo she’d used to wash her hair. She had a brush in one hand and had been styling her naturally curly black hair.
The sight of such natural beauty would make any man go weak in the knees. Cesare was no exception. “I had a call from my mother and have been forced to change my plans.”
“Uh-oh.” Anxiety marred her features. He knew what she was thinking.
“Forgive me for making you stand there. Please come in.”
Her faultless manners impressed him. “Thank you.” He walked in the little living room off the kitchen.
She eyed him nervously. “Did the police interrogate her already? Is she in terrible trouble?” Tuccia put the hand not holding the brush to her heart. “Bertina should never have involved your mother and I shouldn’t have listened to her.”
“So far everything is all right. The police talked to your aunt who told them she knew nothing. I’m sure my mother will be next, but she’ll have no information, either. They both received your letters.”
“I’m so glad. Then why have you changed your plans? I don’t understand. But before you tell me, let me get dressed. Please sit down. I’ll only be a minute.”
He chose the chair by the coffee table while she rushed to her bedroom. Cesare caught a fleeting glimpse of her long shapely legs beneath the flap of her robe before she disappeared. He was growing more enamored of her by the second.
How could it be that after all the years of working with attractive businesswomen, he found himself in trouble just being in her presence for a few hours total. Along with her attributes, her utter femininity blew him away. It was a good thing she’d be gone tomorrow so there’d be no temptation to spend any extra time with her.
CHAPTER THREE (#u51bec55f-0cf1-566b-b156-33dae1e7d11d)
IN NO TIME Tuccia reappeared wearing a pair of white slacks and sandals toned with a café-au-lait-and-white print short-sleeved top. She sat on the end of the couch with one leg tucked under her. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“As you know, the Sicilian pastry chef I’d planned to hire is in the hospital. But there’s no telling when he’ll be well enough to work again. Mamma found out he has developed an unexpected heart condition. I had high hopes for him. With his exciting creations, he would have brought a new clientele to our ristorante. Except for my mother’s cooking, there’s no one to equal him.”
Tuccia sat forward with a troubled look on her lovely face. “My zia says she’s the most superb cook in all Sicily. That means she has to know what she is talking about. What will you do?”
“Since I’m in charge of the ristorante at the castello, I’m the only one who has the authority to fix the problem. In an emergency, there are times when you have to do it yourself.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean you’re going to be the pastry chef?”
“It’ll be nothing new to me while I find someone else. But right now I’m concerned about you. Have you decided what you want to do with your life?”
A slow smile broke out on her face. “That was a trick question, right?”
The woman was getting to him. “Not at all. Since you never intended to follow through on the betrothal, what had you imagined you would be doing when you finally made your escape?”
Her smile faded. She looked away. “To be honest I only thought about how to subsist until my parents stopped looking for me and go from there.”
Cesare had assumed as much. “If I hadn’t offered you safe passage on the jet this morning, what was your exact plan when you reached Catania?”
“I was going to find temporary work in a greenhouse through an old school friend until I’m forced to move on for fear of being spotted.”
He hadn’t expected to hear that. “Are you a gardener with a knowledge of horticulture that would make you an asset at the greenhouse?”
“Of course not.”
“Yet you’re willing to prevail on the friend you mentioned to get a job there?”
“Yes. She works at the university and could help me find a position for a while. But because you told me not to use my phone, I haven’t talked to her yet and wouldn’t be able to until I reached Catania.”
“Do you have an affinity for flowers?”
Her head flew back. “Have you forgotten I’m a princess who has no knowledge of anything practical? But I’m strong and could cart plants around in a wheelbarrow if I have to.”
“I wasn’t trying to insult you.”
“I know,” she half moaned. “You’re being so good to me. I’m sorry I snapped.”
“I think you’re handling your desperate situation with amazing grace.”
She shook her head. “But it’s one I created and I don’t deserve your kindness.”
“Why do you say that? Everyone deserves help from time to time.”
He heard a deep sigh. “I guess because my parents rarely showed any kindness to me while I was growing up.”
“Did they hurt you physically?”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that. But their stifling, rigid rules made my life unbearable.”
“Nevertheless it doesn’t mean you’re not deserving of kindness,” he reminded her. “Just so you know, your letter to Jean-Michel has been dealt with in a way that won’t be traced to you. He should be getting it in a few days, so you can put that worry out of your mind.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You’re a saint.”
“Hardly.” He leaned toward her with his hands on his thighs. “I’ve given your precarious position a lot of thought. Your idea to go to Catania would only be a stopgap for a few days. I still think it would be best if you leave Europe tomorrow. I’ll arrange it.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t let you do that. You’ve done more than enough for me and have your own problem to solve right here.”
“First things first, Tuccia. You need to get far away. New York would be the perfect place to get lost. With my contacts, I could set you up in your own apartment and they would help you find a job that you would like to do. No one would suspect you’re the princess who disappeared. You’d be safe. That is what you want, isn’t it?”
“You know it is, but I’ve been thinking about the chef who’s in the hospital and how desperate you must be feeling right now. You saved my life by bringing me to Milan. Instead of putting you in an impossible position, I’d like to do something of value for you in return,” she said in an aching voice.
She had a way of running over every roadblock. He sat back and studied her for a moment, intrigued. “What do you mean?”
“Why not teach me to be a pastry chef so I can work at your ristorante until he’s well and can fly here. I’d do anything to help you if I could.”
It took all his self-control not to laugh. To his shock, he had the strongest suspicion she was being completely serious. “Are you saying you know how to cook?”
A small sound escaped her throat. “No. I’m embarrassed to tell you I’ve never cooked anything from start to finish in my life, although I spent a lot of time in the palazzo kitchen growing up. The cooks were kind to me and let me watch. I washed lettuce and sometimes they’d let me beat egg whites or stir the gravy. Once in a while they’d allow me to sift the flour into the cake bowl before it was baked.”
“Does that mean you didn’t learn to cook at boarding school?”
She laughed outright. “You have a strange idea of what goes on there.”
“Actually I do know, and was only teasing.” Despite the impossibility of what she’d said, the more they talked, the more he found himself enjoying her company. Too much in fact.
“I’m relieved to hear it, Cesare. To be honest, that boarding school in France happened so long ago I’ve forgotten. All I know is, I was waited on. When my parents enrolled me at the University of Paris, I had to live with them in an apartment in St. Germain des Pres. Would it reassure you to know that I told my maid I could make my own tea and instant coffee in the microwave?”
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Rebecca Winters
The princess and the billionaire! Princess Tuccianna Leonardi has fled from her arranged marriage and desperately needs a place to hide from her family. So when gorgeous Sicilian billionaire Cesare Donati offers her a job as his hotel's new pastry chef, it seems like all Tuccia's prayers have been answered.As they work together morning, noon and night, Cesare soon falls for his raven-haired beauty. Romance might be simmering between them, but with Tuccia still on the run, can Cesare keep his princess safe and promise her their happy-ever-after?The Billionaire’s ClubMeet the world’s most eligible bachelors
The princess and the billionaire
Princess Tuccianna Leonardi has fled from her arranged marriage and desperately needs a place to hide from her family. So when gorgeous Sicilian billionaire Cesare Donati offers her a job as his hotel’s new pastry chef, it seems like all Tuccia’s prayers have been answered.
As they work together morning, noon and night, Cesare soon falls for his raven-haired beauty. Romance might be simmering between them, but with Tuccia still on the run, can Cesare keep his princess safe and promise her their happy-ever-after?
The Billionaire’s Club
Meet the world’s most eligible bachelors…
by
Rebecca Winters
For tycoons Vincenzo Gagliardi, Takis Manolis and Cesare Donati, transforming the Castello di Lombardi into one of Europe’s most highly sought-after hotels will be more than just a business venture—it’s a challenge to be relished!
But these three men, bound by a friendship as strong as blood, are about to discover that the chase is only half the fun as three women conquer their hearts and change their lives for ever…
Return of Her Italian Duke
Bound to Her Greek Billionaire
Whisked Away by Her Sicilian Boss
Available now!
Whisked Away by Her Sicilian Boss
Rebecca Winters
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
REBECCA WINTERS lives in Salt Lake City, Utah. With canyons and high alpine meadows full of wildflowers, she never runs out of places to explore. They, plus her favourite holiday spots in Europe, often end up as backgrounds for her romance novels—because writing is her passion, along with her family and church. Rebecca loves to hear from readers. If you wish to email her, please visit her website at www.cleanromances.com (http://www.cleanromances.com).
To all of you readers who have read my books and let me know you enjoy them.
You’ll never know what your kind, encouraging words do to make this author’s job a pure delight!
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Contents
Cover (#ue68da988-1feb-5c1c-8e3a-e75befca5858)
Back Cover Text (#uee702e8a-c4e6-566d-befb-d7bfc049a082)
The Billionaire’s Club (#u1f5a23e1-8a3a-58a7-ae46-40fbca083362)
Title Page (#u2412e71d-b7b9-5dd2-8946-d1e9e63db635)
About the Author (#u7f1047f6-b7e0-5a8c-aa46-8ab934d54b94)
Dedication (#ufccb859b-5d22-535c-9ee5-a06bff9d039e)
CHAPTER ONE (#u8c762b57-d2be-5a32-a823-277c140ab00d)
CHAPTER TWO (#uc4309bf1-a558-5bd6-92eb-06ee4f9b46b2)
CHAPTER THREE (#u261d94cb-ba5f-5f8b-8299-01b5f84500ff)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u51bec55f-0cf1-566b-b156-33dae1e7d11d)
Salon des Reines, Paris, France
THE CHAUFFEUR OF Le Comte Jean-Michel Ardois pulled the limousine up in front of the bridal salon on the Rue de L’Echelle. In the last two weeks Princess Tuccianna Falcone Leonardi of Sicily had been here with her mother three times for the bridal dress fitting. Each time they’d come, she’d made excuses to visit the bathroom in order to study the layout of the exclusive shop.
This morning was her final fitting to make sure everything was perfect for the wedding ceremony tomorrow. Only Tuccia had no intention of showing up for the elaborate nuptials arranged by her parents and Comte Ardois ten years ago in a horrifying, ironclad betrothal forced upon her. She’d dreamed of her freedom forever. Now had come the moment for her escape.
Madame Dufy, the owner, welcomed them inside. After fussing over Tuccia and telling her how excited she was for her forthcoming marriage to the comte, she took them back to the dressing room befitting a queen.
“Delphine will be with you in just a moment with your gown. It’s as exquisite as you are, Princess.”
The second she left, Tuccia turned to her mother, the Marchesa di Trabia of Sicily. “I need to go to the restroom.”
“Surely not!”
“I can’t help it. You know how I get when I’m nervous.”
“You are impossible, Tuccia!”
“If I don’t go, it might happen in here.”
Her mother’s hands flew up in the air. “All right! But don’t take too long. We have a long list of things that must be done today.”
“I’ll hurry, Mamma.”
Yes, she’d hurry. Right out of the clutches of the comte!
She knew he planned to assign her a bodyguard the moment they were married and never let her out of his sight for the rest of their lives. After overhearing him discuss it with her parents, who’d said she needed a strong hand, she’d been planning how to disappear.
Tuccia opened the door and walked down the hall to the door of the bathroom. But she only went inside to leave her betrothal ring on the floor near the sink. Whoever found it could think what they wanted. After looking around to make sure no one had seen her, she rushed down another hallway straight out the back door of the shop.
From there it was only a short run down the alley used for delivery trucks to the street where she climbed in a taxi.
“Le Bourget Aeroport, s’il vous plait.”
Her heart refused to stop thudding as they drove off. She looked behind her. No one had come running out of the alley chasing after her yet. Tuccia prayed all the way to the airport where she boarded an Eljet chartered for her under a fake name and paid for her by her aunt Bertina. Once it landed in Palermo, Sicily, she’d take a taxi to her aunt’s palazzo.
Before long Tuccia’s favorite person in the whole world would be offering her sanctuary. Her life would continue to depend on Bertina’s help, or all was lost.
The next day, Milan, Italy
Dinner had concluded in the private dining room of the legendary fourteenth-century castello, the home of the former first Duc di Lombardi in Milan, Italy.
Vincenzo Gagliardi, the present-day duc, lifted his goblet with the insignia of the Gagliardi coat of arms. “Buona fortuna this trip, Cesare. Our business is depending on you. May you return with my wife’s replacement soon. The baby will be here in two months. I want Gemma off her feet ASAP.”
“Amen,” Takis declared, raising his glass. “You’re going to have to be quick, amico.” He touched his goblet to Cesare’s, and they sipped the local vintage Lombardia that Vincenzo had produced from the vast wine cellar for his send-off.
Cesare Donati eyed his two best friends with a smile. They’d been like brothers to him for more than a decade. Together they’d turned the former fortress palace of Vincenzo’s family into the five-star Castello Supremo Hotel and Ristorante di Lombardi, Europe’s most sought-after resort.
“I have a surprise for you. I’ll be back in two days with our new pastry chef. I told Gemma as much this morning.”
“That soon?” they said in unison.
“It’s been arranged for a while, so have no concerns.”
His friends smiled in relief. For Cesare’s contribution to their successful enterprise, he’d already found the perfect person to replace Gemma as the castello’s new executive pastry chef.
But he’d been keeping the identity of his choice a secret until he could present Ciro Fragala in person with one of his many specialties for their delectation.
Vincenzo’s wife had learned to make Florentine pastry from her mother who’d cooked for the last duc. Though her cooking was perfection and drew the elite clientele that came to the castello, in Cesare’s opinion the best cook in the world was his own Sicilian mother.
She’d learned from the nuns who made divine pastries and ran the orphanage where she’d been raised until she turned eighteen. On her say-so—and she would know better than anyone else—Cesare had done the necessary research on Signor Fragala, the pastry cook she’d declared to be the finest in all Sicily. After a visit to the Palermo restaurant with his mother two months ago, he’d agreed totally with her assessment.
Hiring Ciro meant sensational new desserts for their business enterprise in Milan. The two of them had met with the fifty-five-year-old widower several times in the last few weeks. The chef had said he would leap at the chance to work at the famous castello restaurant.
Since he didn’t have children, it wouldn’t be a problem to move. He’d given his notice and Cesare planned to fly him to Milan. The new chef would work well with their executive French chef at the castello. Most of all, the guys would be pleased by the man’s amiable personality.
“We’ll drive you to the airport,” Vincenzo stated.
Cesare shook his head. “Thanks, but you’ve done enough by surprising me with this dinner. You’ve both got pregnant wives who’ve been generous enough to let us have this meal together. By now they’ll be wondering where you are. The limo is waiting as we speak.”
“Then we’ll walk you out,” Vincenzo murmured.
“Grazie.”
He drained the rest of his wine and got to his feet. Reaching for the suitcase he’d left by the double doors, he moved ahead of them to the portrait-lined corridor of the former ducs with their legendary silvery eyes.
“Stay safe,” Takis said as Cesare climbed in the rear of the limo.
“Always.”
Vincenzo smiled. “We can’t wait to meet this mystery paragon of pastry chefs.” He patted Cesare’s shoulder and shut the door before it drove away from the castello.
Two hours later, the Lombardi ducal jet arrived at Palermo International Airport, where another limousine waited for him on the tarmac. Cesare told the driver to take him to the posh Mondello borough. It was there he’d bought a villa in the famed art nouveau style for his mother and sister who was now married and lived in the city with her husband and their toddler.
He’d wanted nothing but the best for his wonderful mamma, Lina Donati.
She would never leave Palermo. After being raised by the nuns and learning how to cook from them, she’d started out working in a local restaurant after leaving the orphanage.
Her subsequent marriage was short-lived. Abandoned by her husband, she’d cooked her way through life to support their little family and had made a name for herself. Cesare believed she made the best food on earth. In her honor he’d had a state-of-the-art kitchen installed because he couldn’t do enough for her.
Thanks to a bad back from being on her feet all the time, she now cooked exclusively for Bertina Spadaro, who wasn’t a demanding employer. Cesare had begged her to retire. He would take care of her forever. But his mother said she couldn’t imagine not having work to do and she loved Bertina. The aristocratic older sister of the Marchesa di Leonardi di Trabia had become her friend.
The Leonardi family descended from the royal Sicilian family of the commune of Trabia, thirty miles from Palermo, and could trace their roots back to the 1400s, when the land and castle were granted them by Frederick III. The present marchese and marchesa had established their own palazzo in the heart of Palermo.
Bertina and Lina had become fast friends over the years and were in each other’s confidence. The rest of the time his mother spent with Cesare’s family, or tended her spectacular herb garden.
The elite area of Mondello had everything: exclusive yachting clubs dotting its sandy beach, restaurants, shops and a marina with numerous yachts, including the marchese’s gleaming white royal yacht that stood out from the others.
Before buying the villa for her, Cesare, too, had been captivated as he’d walked through the sand of its private beach front, inhaling the air filled with the heady scent of orange blossoms and jasmine. Whenever he flew to Palermo, Cesare was reminded that with all its rich history, there was nowhere else in the world he found more fascinating.
But tonight as they drove into the ancient, colorful city, he was met with the strong smells of fish and spices that always brought back memories of his youth. There was a hint of the old Arab souks, taking him back to his childhood. As a boy, these streets with their subtle niches and labyrinths had been his backyard.
His father had been in the merchant marines, but ran off before Cesare was a year old, leaving his mother to work in a trattoria and support him and his older sister Isabella. They’d lived in the apartment above it in a rougher neighborhood of Palermo. Cesare’s world had been filled with lots of purse snatchers, few showers that usually didn’t work, grueling heat. Everything had been run-down and chaotic.
Since he’d been too young to remember his father, he didn’t miss him, only the idea of him. Cesare had envied his friends who had fathers and taught them things. Early in life he’d felt embarrassed at times that he was the only one who went to mass unaccompanied while the other boys walked in the church with their own fathers.
As he grew up, the embarrassment went away, but he lacked the confidence he saw in his friends whose sense of belonging seemed to give them an extra layer of it.
Cesare couldn’t comprehend a man abandoning his wife and children, never caring about them again. Sometimes in his teens he’d dreamed about meeting his father, but those dreams were unsatisfactory because his father always turned away from him. The dreams eventually stopped, but not the feeling that there was something lacking in him.
At the age of thirty, Cesare was living a different life. Thanks to the college mentor who’d taught him and his partners how to invest, his worth now figured in the billions. But the past could never be forgotten and had formed him into the man he’d become.
Over time he’d seen enough to decide romantic love was transitory at most. Of course there were exceptions, like his partners’ marriages. But at this stage in his life Cesare wasn’t that confident that he was marriage material. He hadn’t witnessed two parents loving each other. So far he felt he was better off alone like his mother. With a sister and brother-in-law and their daughter Elana, Cesare was happy enough with the family he loved.
In fact he had all he needed, including the occasional relationship with a woman. There was no guarantee that one would stay with him if he did get married, or that it would last.
Or that he might not be more like his father than he thought...
From time to time that thought haunted him because he hadn’t met a woman who meant everything to him. Maybe he’d subconsciously pushed them away so he didn’t have to deal with commitment. Though he didn’t want to bring up past pain to his mother, one of these days he would have a talk with her about the man who’d disappeared on their family, on him.
When the limo finally reached the villa, Cesare put his darker thoughts away and paid the driver before getting out. His mother was expecting him, and knew he’d be flying Ciro Fragala back to Milan with him the next day. But it was close to one o’clock. She always went to bed early.
He’d told her not to wait up and they’d talk in the morning before Ciro arrived at the villa in a limo Cesare had arranged for ahead of time. The man would be shipping his belongings to Milan and he’d stay in a room at the castello until he decided where he wanted to live.
Every time Cesare came to Palermo, he was charmed by the large ochre-colored villa spread over two floors with three beautiful terraces and a Mediterranean garden. The small pool was lined with glazed tiles of North African origin.
From the terrace off the dining room he was met with a glorious view of the Gulf front. It was a sight he’d always loved after climbing the bluff called Mount Pellegrino many times in his youth. From there he could imagine himself escaping the suffocating heat and madness of the city and sailing away to America. Incredibly that dream had come true.
Once he’d entered the foyer, he turned off the outside light and moved across the stone tiles of the villa in the dark to the kitchen with his suitcase. After setting it down, his first instinct was to grab himself a small bottle of his favorite grappa digestivo from the cabinet where he knew it was kept, then head upstairs to his suite with it. Before sleep, all he wanted was to take a few sips to remind him he was back in the land of his roots.
But as he turned to pick up his suitcase, he bumped into another body and heard a cry.
“Mamma?” He automatically hugged her to him. “Mi dispiace tanto. I didn’t think you’d be up this late. Did I hurt you?”
That’s when the bottle slipped from his hand and cracked on the floor. But the strong scent of the 60 proof alcohol wasn’t nearly as shocking as the feel of the woman in his arms.
She wasn’t built anything like his wiry brunette mother or her housekeeper who came in several times a week. In fact she was taller than both of them. To add to his surprise, the flowery scent from her hair and skin intoxicated him. It took him a second to gather his wits.
“Don’t move. There’s broken glass. I’ll turn on the light.” He let her go and walked to the doorway to flip the switch. Cesare was shocked yet again.
If he didn’t know better, he would think he’d released a gorgeous enchanted princess from her bottle. Her stunning figure was swathed in a lemon silk robe. Thank heaven she was wearing sandals. Between her medium-length black curls and eyes gray as the morning mist off the ocean, his gaze managed to swallow her whole before he realized she looked familiar to him. He knew he’d seen her before but couldn’t place her.
She stared back as if disbelieving before taking a few steps away from the wet mess on the stone flooring. A hand went to her throat. “You’re Cesare,” she murmured, sounding astonished.
“I’m afraid you’ve got me at a disadvantage, signorina.” Maybe he was in the middle of a fantastic dream, but so far he hadn’t awakened. Quickly he walked over to the utility closet for a cloth and brush to pick up the glass and clean the floor.
“My name is Tuccia. I’m so sorry to have startled you.”
Tuccia. An unusual name.
Tuccia. Short for... Princess Tuccianna of Sicilian nobililty?
Over the years there’d been photos of her in the newspapers from time to time, mostly stories about her escapades away from the royal palazzo where she got into trouble with friends and was seen partying in local clubs to the embarrassment of the royal household. But Cesare had never seen her up close.
The latest news in the Palermo press reported she was engaged to be married to some French comte who lived in Paris and was one of the wealthiest men in France.
No. It couldn’t be, yet he realized it was she.
“I’m afraid I don’t recognize it,” he dissembled until he could work out why the daughter of the Marchese and Marchesa of the ancient Sicilian House of Trabia, was in his mother’s villa.
“You probably wouldn’t. It’s not common.”
She was trying to put Cesare off, but he intended to get to the bottom of this mystery. “Did Mamma hire you to be a new maid?”
She averted her eyes. “No. Signora Donati allowed me to stay with her for tonight.” He frowned, not having known anything about this. Why hadn’t his beloved mother told him what to expect when he arrived? “I—I thought I heard a noise, signor,” she stammered, “but I didn’t have time to turn on the light.”
“No. We were both taken by surprise,” he murmured, still reeling from the sensation of her incredible body clutched to his so she wouldn’t fall.
Cesare had enjoyed various relationships with attractive women over the years, but he’d never gotten into anything serious. Yet the feel and sight of the beautiful young princess, whose face was like something out of Botticelli, had shaken him.
“I guess you know you have the most wonderful mother in the world,” she gushed all of a sudden, breaking in on his private thoughts. He was amazed by her comment. It had sounded completely sincere.
He closed the utility door and turned to her, growing more curious by the second. “I do. How did you two meet?”
His question caused her to hesitate. “I think it would be better if you ask her. I’m truly sorry to have disturbed you and will say goodnight.” She darted away, leaving him full of questions and standing there wide awake in the trail of her fragrance.
The princess, reputed to be a spoiled, headstrong handful, had elegance and manners. Damn if she didn’t also have an unaffected charm that had worked its way beneath his skin.
He took a deep breath. Though Cesare didn’t like waking his mother, he knew there’d be no sleep until he had answers. Before heading upstairs to her bedroom, he opened the cabinet for another bottle of grappa. All he found was a half-opened bottle of cooking sherry.
That’s what he got for not turning on the light earlier. That and the memory of a moment in time he feared wasn’t about to let him go.
* * *
With a pounding out-of-control heart, twenty-five-year-old Principessa Tuccianna Falcone Leonardi rushed to the guest room down the hall at the rear of the villa. She should never have made a trip to the kitchen, but needed something to drink. Lina had told her to help herself to anything, including the soda she kept on hand in the fridge.
Being crushed unexpectedly against a hard male body in the dark had come as such a huge surprise that her mind and body were still reeling. She could still feel the male power of him and smell the faint scent of the soap he’d used in the shower. The combination had completely disarmed her.
After he’d turned on the kitchen light, she’d had her first look at Lina’s tall, incredibly attractive brown-haired son. Tuccia knew of him, but had no idea that Lina had given birth to the most striking man she’d ever seen in her life. Those deep blue eyes and his masculine potency had managed to make such an indelible impression her heart still kept turning over on itself.
“I didn’t know there was a man in Palermo who looked like that,” she whispered to herself. Tuccia was positive there wasn’t another one in all Europe who could match him.
More than ever she was revolted at the thought of marrying her forty-year-old French fiancé who had only stared at her with lust. The fabulously wealthy Comte Jean-Michel Ardois, who would soon inherit the title after his ailing father passed away, was always trying to touch her, and lately more and more inappropriately.
On occasion she’d seen him be quite ruthless with the people who worked for the Ardois family. He was a cold, calculating man whom she could never love or bring herself to marry.
Her betrothal at the age of sixteen had been a political necessity arranged by her parents, the Marchese and Marchesa di Trabia, whose funds needed constant bolstering. Since that time she’d felt doomed to an existence she’d dreaded with every fiber of her being.
After careful planning, she’d seized the moment to run away twenty-four hours before the ceremony was to take place. Taking flight from the boutique, she’d flown back to her home in Sicily. Thanks to her Zia Bertina, her mother’s widowed elder sister, she’d been given the help she needed to escape on that jet.
Bertina lived in her own palazzo in Palermo where she entertained close friends and loved Tuccia like the child she’d never been able to have. Tuccia’s zia was a romantic who’d always been in sympathy with her niece’s tragic situation, and had prevailed on her cook, Lina Donati, to let her hide at her villa overnight. In the meantime she was still trying to arrange transport for Tuccia to stay with a distant cousin living in Podgorica in Montenegro until the worst of the scandal had passed.
But Tuccia had placed her in a terrible position. Bertina had continued living in the palazzo after her husband died, but she needed monetary help on occasion. Tuccia’s zio, Pietro Spadaro, hadn’t been a wealthy man. If Tuccia’s parents got angry enough at Bertina, they could stop giving her extra money. They might throw her out of the only home she’d known since her marriage.
Worse, if they knew Bertina had involved a cousin in another country, let alone asked such a desperate favor of her adored cook to help solve Tuccia’s problems, who knew how ugly the situation could get. If Bertina were forced to lose the palazzo and any extra money, she wouldn’t be able to pay Lina for being her cook. Lina could be out of a job for harboring her. All of it would be her fault.
She couldn’t believe her bad luck in running into Lina’s son. Naturally he was going to wonder why she was here and question his mother. What she needed to do was get dressed and pack her bag so she’d be ready to steal from the villa at dawn before anyone was up.
Tuccia knew a full-scale search by Jean-Michel and her parents had been underway for her since she had disappeared from the salon. At least with her gone from Lina’s villa, Bertina wouldn’t be implicated.
She had saved enough money to take a bus and travel to Catania where she could get a job through a friend who would help her. If she were careful, she could subsist for a while. She didn’t dare access her bank account even though its pitiful balance had never been big enough to pay for as much as an airline ticket.
Tuccia had no idea how long she would have to remain hidden. But even if it meant being disowned and disinherited, it didn’t matter because she’d rather be dead than have to marry Jean-Michel. She was sickened at the thought of him taking her to bed, let alone living with him for a lifetime.
CHAPTER TWO (#u51bec55f-0cf1-566b-b156-33dae1e7d11d)
CESARE SAT AT the side of his mother’s bed, still trying to comprehend what she’d just told him. “Apparently you and Princess Tuccianna have enjoyed a relationship you never told me about.”
“Only since I started cooking for Bertina two years ago. Until tonight I’d been sworn to secrecy. She needs help desperately, Cesare.”
He reached for her hand. “Don’t you know what a terrible position this has put you in, Mamma? The authorities from two governments are looking everywhere for her. Her jilted fiancé could be dangerous. He has the kind of money and power that could crush you. If her parents found out you gave her shelter, your name could be ruined. You could lose your job with Bertina. They could make life miserable for you.”
“It’s Tuccia’s life I’m worried about, not mine. You know how I feel about titles. It’s a feudal system. No young woman should have to marry a man almost twice her age because of money and power. You can’t imagine how frightened Bertina is for her niece. The comte will impose his will on her. She’s very beautiful. And you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Cesare was afraid he did. He’d seen first-hand the trouble that kind of will had created for Vincenzo and Vincenzo’s cousin Dimi. The two had grown up together at the castello and had suffered through tragedy together because of overpowering parental dominance over both of them.
After Cesare had become close friends with the two royals he had learned their story, so he understood why the princess refused to be tied legally to a man who could do what he wanted to his young, helpless wife. Cesare was sickened by it himself, but his protective instincts had kicked in for his mother. He didn’t want her to be a part of this and he got up from the bed.
“How long have you agreed to let her stay with you?”
“Until Bertina has worked out an escape plan to get her to a distant relative in Montenegro no one will trace.”
He shook his head. “Of course they will! That’s no plan,” he bit out.
“I agree with you and I don’t like any of it, either. But the princess is desperate. Bertina has told me that the father, Comte Ardois, was promiscuous and notoriously unfaithful over the years. She has it on good authority that his son Comte Jean-Michel is exactly the same way.
“He’s had a mistress on the side for a long time. I can’t bear that kind of life for her. Neither can she! Tuccia is like a lamb going to the slaughter. To me it’s criminal!”
“What you’re telling me sounds like a repeat of the stories Vincenzo told me about life at the castello growing up.”
“So you do understand that Tuccia is a young sweet girl and needs to get far away from him while she still can.”
“Yes, but not at your expense.”
“Someone has to step up. If I lose my job because of this, I’ll find another one. If that isn’t possible, then I will let you take care of me. The point is, the marchesa and her husband have never been concerned about their daughter’s feelings. They’ve spent their whole lives doing their royal duty and expect the same from Tuccia. The princess is alone in this. If Bertina hadn’t chartered that jet for her so she could leave Paris, Tuccia would have been forced to walk down the aisle today and be married to a monster.”
His hands went to his hips. “But now she has you involved.”
“Because I want to be. I like Tuccia very much. If she were my daughter, I’d do whatever I could to save her from such a wretched life. You’re the most brilliant, clever man I’ve ever known, figlio mio. If I asked for your help this one time, would you do it for your mamma?”
Her blue eyes beseeched him. She was serious! He could see it and feel it.
“What do you think I could do?”
“Fly her to Milan tomorrow on the Gagliardi ducal jet with Ciro. Help her find a place to stay in the city where no one will think to look for her. She won’t be traced.”
His eyes narrowed. “Is this the reason you let her stay here tonight? Because you knew I was flying in and planned to use me?”
“Yes,” she answered with her usual refreshing honesty. “Have I ever asked you for a favor like this before? Time is of the essence.”
“Mamma—” His head reared in exasperation.
She sat up straighter in the bed. “I don’t see a problem. Tuccia’s crisis takes priority. That girl needs to be far away from here by tomorrow. It won’t hurt you to take her with you. Be sure she’s wearing a disguise. Signor Fragala won’t suspect who she is.”
He stopped pacing. “He’ll recognize her once we’re on board.”
“So you’ll swear him to secrecy. If he can’t be trusted, tell him you’ve changed your mind and won’t let him have the coveted chef position after all. It’s in your hands. Once you’ve settled her, you can take Ciro to the castello and get on with your business. Is that such a terrible thing to ask this one time?”
Cesare couldn’t fathom that they were having this conversation at three in the morning. “There’s no place she won’t be recognized.”
“Then take her to the castello with you. Smuggle her in a back entrance and hide her in one of the turret rooms for a few days. That will give her enough time to figure out a solid plan on her own. Besides being well-educated and well-traveled, she’s a very intelligent girl and resourceful.”
“And according to the papers, impossible,” he added.
“If you knew the truth, you wouldn’t judge her. Every time her name gets in the news, it’s because she has tried to run away from her family. But she always gets caught and is brought back. Her parents cover it up by saying that she’s an indulged, immature troublemaker. She’s the loveliest girl I’ve ever known, and it’s a tragedy how her life has been.”
Such accolades for the princess shocked him. His mother wasn’t about to relent on this. She was a fighter who had a heart of gold. That was how she’d made it through life.
“You’ll help me to help her, won’t you?”
Cesare loved and admired his mother more than any woman he’d ever known. After the hundreds of sacrifices she’d made for him and his sister growing up, how could he possibly turn her down?
Letting out a sigh he said, “Stop worrying. After Ciro arrives in the morning, I’ll take her to Milan tomorrow with us.” But not to the castello. He didn’t want the guys to know what was going on.
“If you’ll do that for me, I’ll love you forever.”
“I thought you already did,” he teased.
Her eyes had filled with tears. “Oh, Cesare. My dear son. Ti amo.” She started to get out of bed, but her phone rang. Her eyes darted to his in alarm. “Maybe something’s wrong with your sister or my little granddaughter—”
Cesare’s body stiffened. A phone call in the middle of the night could mean anything. Probably it was Bertina calling his mother to tell her the police were on their way over to the villa looking for the princess.
She reached for the cell phone on her bedside table and checked the caller ID. “It says San Giovanni Hospital.”
He stood stock-still while he waited to find out what was going on, but his mother did little talking. Once she hung up, she looked at him with haunted eyes.
“I’m afraid I have very bad news for you, Cesare.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ciro was rushed to the hospital a few hours ago with an infected lung and kidney. I thought he didn’t seem well when I visited the restaurant a few days ago and assumed he had a cold.
“He must undergo an operation to drain off the fluid. The nurse said he had the presence of mind to ask the hospital to contact me before he lost consciousness.”
“Santo Cielo,” Cesare murmured in disbelief. This whole night had turned into a bad dream. “The poor devil.”
“It’s terrible.”
“Get dressed and we’ll drive to the hospital in your car. Since he’s my responsibility, I’ll tell the hospital and take care of his medical bills.”
“Bless you. I’m getting ready now, but I’ll visit him alone and be your go-between until he has recovered. Right now you’ve got to take care of the princess. The sooner, the better. That phone call could have been Bertina alerting me that the police were on Tuccia’s trail. There’s no time to lose.”
There was no time for sleep, either, not while this situation continued. He walked to his suite to shower and change clothes for the flight back to Milan. Afterward he went downstairs to the kitchen to fix himself coffee. He found the delicious sweet rolls filled with ricotta and chocolate his mother always made for him when he came and ate several.
During his early morning feast, his mother joined him before leaving for the hospital. After she went out to her car, he contacted the pilot to let him know they’d be returning to Milan shortly, then he arranged for a limo to come to the villa. Now all he needed was for the princess to make an appearance.
* * *
It was six-thirty in the morning when Tuccia finished writing three letters at the desk in the guest bedroom. The first was her deepest apology to Jean-Michel, explaining why she couldn’t marry him and had run away. They weren’t in love with each other, and that was the only reason for two people to marry.
She put it in an envelope with his name and address on the front. When and where to mail it was the scary part and had to be considered carefully because her life depended on it.
Tuccia put the letter in her purse, then wrote two long thank-you letters to her zia and Lina. She signed them with love before leaving them on top of the dresser so Lina would be certain to see them. One of these days she would write to her parents, but that could wait.
After making the bed, she grabbed the small suitcase Bertina had loaned her and hurried through the villa to the kitchen for a piece of fruit. A ten-minute walk would take her to the shops where she could eat something more substantial and catch a bus.
“Where do you think you’re going in that disguise?” a deep familiar male voice asked as she reached the foyer.
Her camouflage consisted of a scarf she’d tied around her head like a lot of local women did to cover their hair. She turned around to see the man she hadn’t been able to erase from her thoughts, standing there in jeans and a jacket. He looked too marvelous to her this early in the morning.
“I wanted to slip out before your mother awakened so I wouldn’t disturb her. I left messages to thank her and my aunt.”
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate that, Principessa.”
Of course he’d recognized her and had talked with Lina. Now he knew everything about her situation. She was so sorry he’d been dragged into her problem. “Your mother has been exceptionally kind to me. I’m embarrassed my zia asked for her assistance, and I’m ashamed I accepted it because it has placed her in danger.”
“Mamma has a big heart. It sounds like Signora Spadaro does, too.”
Tears glazed her eyes. “They’re both strong, remarkable women, but they’ve done more than enough to help me. It’s time I dealt with the mess I’ve created for myself.”
She tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t give. Tuccia looked over her shoulder. “Is there a trick to unlocking it?”
With a half smile that gave her heart a jolt, he activated the remote in his hand and the door swung open.
“Thank you.” After a slight hesitation, she said, “It was a privilege to meet the famous son of Lina Donati. In case you didn’t know it, she thinks the sun rises and sets with you.”
Tuccia felt him follow her out the door into the balmy seventy-seven-degree air where a limousine had pulled in the drive. She put on her sunglasses. Apparently he was going somewhere. When she would have walked past it, he called to her.
“Mamma says you need to get out of Palermo immediately. If you’ll climb in the limo, I have the means to make that happen.”
His comment stopped her in her tracks. “You mustn’t get involved in my problem. I’m already weighed down with guilt and couldn’t handle any more.”
He opened the rear door. “But I am involved. I don’t believe I’ve ever helped a genuine princess in distress before and rather like the idea. Come on. You’ve been living dangerously since leaving Paris. Why stop now?”
His sense of humor caught her off guard and she chuckled in spite of the fear gripping her that this freedom couldn’t last. Not wanting to hold things up, she climbed in. He set her suitcase on the bank of seats in front of them and sat next to her, pulling the door shut. His rock-hard limbs brushed against her jeans-clad legs. The contact sent a dart of awareness through her body.
She heard him tell the chauffeur to drive them to the airport. They drove through a breathtaking portion of Mondello to the main route leading out of the city. Tuccia had the sensation of being spirited away where nothing could hurt her.
It was a heavenly feeling she’d never experienced before. She’d sell her soul for it to last, but she knew this wonderful moment could only be enjoyed until they reached the airport.
“Where are we going?” she asked at last, alive to everything about this extraordinary man.
“To Milan.”
“Where you work when you’re not in New York.”
“More importantly, it’s where you’ll be safe. I fear my mother has done far too much talking about me.”
“That’s because she loves you.” Tuccia had heard about the spectacular castello restaurant he owned and ran with his business partners. His other business interests in New York City were legendary. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to know that kind of love from my own parents.”
“That’s a lonely statement.”
“Now I’m doing too much talking and sound so sorry for myself, I’m ashamed. But you have no idea what I’d give to erase the image the country has of me. I’m not the tempestuous, volatile woman everyone believes me to be. I just want to be free like other women to make the kind of life I want for myself.”
“According to my mother, you’ve run away from a fate worse than death.”
“Put that way it sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? Unfortunately it’s true for me and I’ve dragged three innocent people into my personal disaster. I pray there won’t be any repercussions for you,” she half sobbed the words.
His hand grasped hers, sending a wave of warmth through her. “No one brought my mother and me kicking and screaming,” he teased gently. “If I were in your shoes and betrothed to some odious marchesa twice my age, I can promise you I would flee to the other side of the universe where no one would ever find me.”
Odious was the exact word to describe Jean-Michel.
The analogy was so ludicrous she found herself laughing. But it underlined the fact that Cesare Donati wasn’t married. Tuccia couldn’t help but wonder how many women must have flung themselves at him.
“That’s better,” he said before releasing her hand.
Soon they arrived at the airport and were driven to the area where the private jets sat on the tarmac. The limo wound around and stopped next to one in silver and blue that stood out with a coat of arms depicting the Duc di Lombardi. A thrill of excitement passed through her to know she’d be flying to northern Italy with him. Just the two of them.
Once Cesare helped her out of the limo with her suitcase, the steward welcomed them aboard. He showed her to the elegant club compartment where she sat across from her protector as she thought of him. Pretty soon the Fasten Seat Belt light went on and she heard the scream of the engines as they taxied out to the runway.
After they’d taken off and achieved cruising speed, the light went off and the steward brought them breakfast trays. She found she was starving and ate everything, including a second cup of coffee to drink.
Cesare flashed her a searching glance. “How long has it been since you had a substantial meal?”
“My aunt kept trying to feed me after I arrived in Palermo, but I was so nervous I couldn’t eat very much. Now I’m hungry.”
“How did you manage your escape so perfectly when all of your other attempts have failed?”
“I can see my aunt has told your mother everything about my past.” Tuccia heaved a sigh. “I’ve been planning this latest scheme since my first dress fitting two months ago. Yesterday morning I went to the dressmaker with my mother for the final wedding dress fitting.
“When Madame Dufy went to find the dressmaker and bring out my gown, I told my mother I needed to use the ladies’ room and hurried down the hallway. As soon as no one was in sight, I shot out the back door of the salon. I knew there was a nearby tête de taxi. From there I was driven to the airport where Bertina had chartered a private jet for me ahead of time under a fake name. And here I am.”
His gaze held hers. “That was a daring plan.”
“I’m sure you think me selfish and cruel, but it was the only way to end the nightmare of my life. I’ve written a letter to Jean-Michel to apologize. It’s all ready to be mailed except for a stamp.”
“Where is it?”
“In my purse.”
“May I see it?”
When she pulled it out, he walked over and took it from her. After examining the address, he put it in his pocket. “I’ll make sure he gets it without the police being able to trace it.”
“You must think me heartless and that I’m living up to all the falsehoods spread about me. Actually they’re not all false. I do have a bad temper that erupts at times and I’ve gotten a lot of staff into trouble who were supposed to keep a close watch on me.”
After a silence he said, “What I think doesn’t matter.” The Fasten Seat Belt light went on again. He strapped himself in. “We’re descending to Milan. Very soon I’ll take you to a place where you’ll be hidden from the world and hopefully safe for another twenty-four hours. While you’re figuring out what it is you would like to do with the rest of your life, I’ll have to leave you, but I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
Her spirits plunged at that revelation. “Where are you going?”
“To Palermo.”
“Again? I don’t understand.”
“I’m going to see the man I’d hired to be the castello’s new executive pastry chef.”
Her brows met in a delicate frown. “Why didn’t you visit with him before you brought me all this way first?”
The pilot set the jet down and it taxied to a stop. “Because he was rushed to the hospital during the night and couldn’t come with me to start his new position. He was supposed to meet my partners today and get settled in.”
“Oh, how terrible for him and you!”
“Since you needed to leave Palermo before the authorities caught up to you, I brought you instead.”
The man continued to astound her. She shook her head. “I can’t believe you would do that for me.” Tuccia loved him already for his sacrifice.
His blue eyes darkened with an emotion she couldn’t put her finger on. “Mamma said it was a matter of life and death. After learning how desperate you are to escape the life your parents and fiancé have orchestrated for you, I’m inclined to believe she was telling the truth.”
His compassion filled her with feelings that threatened to overwhelm her. “Please—you don’t have to send my letter to the comte. It’s too much. I’ll find a way to do it,” she said in a throbbing voice he could probably feel.
“It’s a simple thing that needs to be done so he’ll call off his army. There’s no one like you, and no question he wants you back. Needless to say, you’re a royal prize he won’t tolerate getting away from him.”
Tuccia shivered because she felt he truly did understand the gravity of her desperate situation where Jean-Michel was involved.
A few minutes later another limousine drove them out of the city. They swept past farms and villas until they reached a small village at the base of a prominent hill. On the top she caught sight of a massive fortress. The ochre-toned structure with its towers and crenellated walls sprawled across the summit.
“That’s the ancient Castello Di Lombardi,” Cesare explained, “now a hotel ristorante.”
The one he’d helped to make famous. Tuccia was eager to see it up close and thought they would drive up there. Instead he asked the driver to take them to a pensione in the village. Evidently he’d made arrangements for her ahead of time.
Just as he helped her out of the limo and told the driver to wait, the padrona di casa came out of another door. She greeted them and showed them inside the attractive apartment. After a few explanations she left. Cesare lowered Tuccia’s suitcase to the floor and turned to her.
“You should be very comfortable here while I’m gone. I asked her to fill the cupboards and fridge with groceries to last several days. As you heard her say, if you need anything, just pick up the phone in the kitchen and she’ll answer.”
The last thing Tuccia wanted was for him to go, but she realized he was anxious to get back to Palermo and didn’t dare keep him. What a terrible position he was in!
“I don’t know how to thank you for all you’ve done for me. How can I make this up to you?”
He studied her features for a minute. “I’ve had two friends who helped me when I thought all was lost. It’s nice to be on the giving end for a change.”
She could feel her eyes smarting. “I don’t deserve this.”
“I remember telling them the same thing. A word of warning. Do you have a cell phone on you?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t use it for any reason and don’t go walking in the village. The only person who knows you are here is the woman who let you in. She’s a friend and will keep silent. When I return, we’ll talk. Until then, try to relax, watch TV. A presto, Principessa.”
“Alla prossima, Cesare.” She followed him to the door and watched him drive away, causing her heart to act up until it actually hurt.
Once he was gone, Tuccia went back in the living room for her suitcase. Then she walked to the bedroom so full of emotions, she didn’t know where to go with them. She didn’t know another person in the world except her aunt who would make a sacrifice like this for her. Cesare Donati was the most incredible man she’d ever known.
While she was in the shower, her mind focused on the chef he’d hired for his fabulous castello restaurant. He had to be a spectacular cook. How sad he’d fallen ill at the very moment he was supposed to go to Milan with Cesare.
She wished she could help him in some way during the short interim while the chef was recovering. Cesare had been so good to her and she wanted to find a way to repay him. She’d much rather stay right here. But of course the whole plan was to get her away from Jean-Michel and her parents.
You’re losing your mind, Tuccia.
* * *
On his way back to the airport Cesare phoned his mother, wondering what kind of a mess she could be in if the police had already found out she’d been harboring Tuccia at the villa.
She picked up on the fourth ring. “Cesare—where are you?” she blurted before he could say anything.
“You’ll be happy to know my mission has been accomplished. Are you alone?”
“Si.”
“Good. Now I can tell you the princess has been installed in a safe place.”
“Grazie a Dio. I can always count on you.”
She didn’t sound worried about the police yet. “I’m flying back to Palermo to be with you. If there are no complications, I should be there in about two hours. I’ll come straight to the hospital. After we’ve talked to the doctor and done all we can do there, I’ll take you out to eat and we’ll have a long talk. How does that sound?”
“Wonderful, except that there’s no point in your coming back unless you want me to help you find another pastry chef beyond Palermo. That could take months.”
“What do you mean another chef? I don’t understand. Ciro will get better with a treatment of antibiotics.”
“I thought so, too, but you’re not going to be happy when I tell you what I’ve just found out from the doctor. Ciro came close to dying during the night because he has developed a heart condition. The prognosis for a full recovery could be six months away.”
“Incredibile!”
“I know how upset you must be to hear that news, Cesare. I’m so sorry. He’s in the ICU and won’t be able to talk to anyone for a few days. There’d be no point in your coming right now. You might as well turn around and stay at the castello until he’s been given a private room and can have visitors. Then you can fly down and have a serious talk with him.”
The situation had gone from bad to worse. “Thank you for watching over him. I’m indebted to you.”
“Bless you for saving Tuccia’s life. What will you do about the chef position now?”
Right now Cesare’s concern over the princess had created the most stress for him. “That’s not your problem. I’ll just have to be the pastry chef myself and interview more applicants for the position. But let’s agree that finding someone who knows how to make Sicilian desserts with an expertise close to his or yours will be an endeavor in futility.”
“You make the best cassatine with almond paste in existence.”
“I learned from you, but that was years ago.”
“You never forget, but I’m desolate for you this has happened. What will Tuccia do? Did she talk to you about it during the flight?”
“Yes. She has a plan that might work.” For a day maybe. “I’ll think of something. Don’t you worry about it. Have you told Bertina her niece is safe?”
“I drove to the palazzo to tell her in person and give her Tuccia’s letter before returning to the hospital. She was so relieved she broke down sobbing before burning it.”
Good thinking on Bertina’s part. “Have the police questioned her yet?”
“Yes. She told them she knew nothing.”
“They’ll be contacting anyone who is friends with her, especially her cook. You’ll be receiving a visit soon. Don’t talk to her on the phone.”
“No worry. I’m at the hospital now and just finished reading Tuccia’s sweet letter to me before burning it.” He had a brilliant mother. “Thanks to your willingness to help the princess escape so fast, there’s no evidence she was ever at the villa, and of course I know nothing.” He chuckled in spite of his concern for her. “Stay in close touch with me.”
“Haven’t I always? Take care of yourself, Mamma.”
“You, too. I’ll talk to you later. Dio di benedica, Cesare.”
After they hung up, he told the limo driver to take him to the main express mail outlet in Milan. Asking him to wait, he went in to have Tuccia’s letter to the comte couriered overnight to Cesare’s attorney. Rudy Goldman always spent this time of year at his retreat in Barbados. Inside the mailing envelope he put the following instructions.
Rudy.
Put a stamp on this and send it airmail immediately.
Many thanks,
Cesare.
His attorney was the soul of discretion and always did what he was told without question. When Cesare had addressed the mailing envelope, he paid the clerk who put it in the slot. Before long it would be on its way to Bridgetown. The comte needed to receive it ASAP. Cesare knew in his gut the other man would start a search for his fiancée.
She was a prize. No one knew that better than Cesare. His thoughts wandered. Not every man would be worthy of her love when she had an ancestry that had made her unique in the world. Certainly not Cesare, whose family tree might as well have half a trunk missing. What could a fatherless man bring to a marriage with a princess?
Depressed by his thoughts, he returned to the limo and told the driver to take him back to the pensione. It was the same apartment where Vincenzo’s wife Gemma had once stayed when she’d come from Florence to the castello for an interview. The padrona could be trusted.
By the time the limo pulled up in front, Cesare had made up his mind to send Tuccia to the States in the morning. The police wouldn’t find her there and he could put her out of his mind. She was on it too much already.
He got out to the pay the driver, then walked to the front door of her apartment and knocked loud enough for her to hear. “Tuccia? It’s Cesare. May I come in?”
“You haven’t left for Palermo yet?” she called out in surprise. “I’ll be right there.”
In less than a minute she opened the door in bare feet, dressed in the yellow silk robe she’d worn in the middle of the night. He could smell the peach shampoo she’d used to wash her hair. She had a brush in one hand and had been styling her naturally curly black hair.
The sight of such natural beauty would make any man go weak in the knees. Cesare was no exception. “I had a call from my mother and have been forced to change my plans.”
“Uh-oh.” Anxiety marred her features. He knew what she was thinking.
“Forgive me for making you stand there. Please come in.”
Her faultless manners impressed him. “Thank you.” He walked in the little living room off the kitchen.
She eyed him nervously. “Did the police interrogate her already? Is she in terrible trouble?” Tuccia put the hand not holding the brush to her heart. “Bertina should never have involved your mother and I shouldn’t have listened to her.”
“So far everything is all right. The police talked to your aunt who told them she knew nothing. I’m sure my mother will be next, but she’ll have no information, either. They both received your letters.”
“I’m so glad. Then why have you changed your plans? I don’t understand. But before you tell me, let me get dressed. Please sit down. I’ll only be a minute.”
He chose the chair by the coffee table while she rushed to her bedroom. Cesare caught a fleeting glimpse of her long shapely legs beneath the flap of her robe before she disappeared. He was growing more enamored of her by the second.
How could it be that after all the years of working with attractive businesswomen, he found himself in trouble just being in her presence for a few hours total. Along with her attributes, her utter femininity blew him away. It was a good thing she’d be gone tomorrow so there’d be no temptation to spend any extra time with her.
CHAPTER THREE (#u51bec55f-0cf1-566b-b156-33dae1e7d11d)
IN NO TIME Tuccia reappeared wearing a pair of white slacks and sandals toned with a café-au-lait-and-white print short-sleeved top. She sat on the end of the couch with one leg tucked under her. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“As you know, the Sicilian pastry chef I’d planned to hire is in the hospital. But there’s no telling when he’ll be well enough to work again. Mamma found out he has developed an unexpected heart condition. I had high hopes for him. With his exciting creations, he would have brought a new clientele to our ristorante. Except for my mother’s cooking, there’s no one to equal him.”
Tuccia sat forward with a troubled look on her lovely face. “My zia says she’s the most superb cook in all Sicily. That means she has to know what she is talking about. What will you do?”
“Since I’m in charge of the ristorante at the castello, I’m the only one who has the authority to fix the problem. In an emergency, there are times when you have to do it yourself.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean you’re going to be the pastry chef?”
“It’ll be nothing new to me while I find someone else. But right now I’m concerned about you. Have you decided what you want to do with your life?”
A slow smile broke out on her face. “That was a trick question, right?”
The woman was getting to him. “Not at all. Since you never intended to follow through on the betrothal, what had you imagined you would be doing when you finally made your escape?”
Her smile faded. She looked away. “To be honest I only thought about how to subsist until my parents stopped looking for me and go from there.”
Cesare had assumed as much. “If I hadn’t offered you safe passage on the jet this morning, what was your exact plan when you reached Catania?”
“I was going to find temporary work in a greenhouse through an old school friend until I’m forced to move on for fear of being spotted.”
He hadn’t expected to hear that. “Are you a gardener with a knowledge of horticulture that would make you an asset at the greenhouse?”
“Of course not.”
“Yet you’re willing to prevail on the friend you mentioned to get a job there?”
“Yes. She works at the university and could help me find a position for a while. But because you told me not to use my phone, I haven’t talked to her yet and wouldn’t be able to until I reached Catania.”
“Do you have an affinity for flowers?”
Her head flew back. “Have you forgotten I’m a princess who has no knowledge of anything practical? But I’m strong and could cart plants around in a wheelbarrow if I have to.”
“I wasn’t trying to insult you.”
“I know,” she half moaned. “You’re being so good to me. I’m sorry I snapped.”
“I think you’re handling your desperate situation with amazing grace.”
She shook her head. “But it’s one I created and I don’t deserve your kindness.”
“Why do you say that? Everyone deserves help from time to time.”
He heard a deep sigh. “I guess because my parents rarely showed any kindness to me while I was growing up.”
“Did they hurt you physically?”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that. But their stifling, rigid rules made my life unbearable.”
“Nevertheless it doesn’t mean you’re not deserving of kindness,” he reminded her. “Just so you know, your letter to Jean-Michel has been dealt with in a way that won’t be traced to you. He should be getting it in a few days, so you can put that worry out of your mind.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You’re a saint.”
“Hardly.” He leaned toward her with his hands on his thighs. “I’ve given your precarious position a lot of thought. Your idea to go to Catania would only be a stopgap for a few days. I still think it would be best if you leave Europe tomorrow. I’ll arrange it.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t let you do that. You’ve done more than enough for me and have your own problem to solve right here.”
“First things first, Tuccia. You need to get far away. New York would be the perfect place to get lost. With my contacts, I could set you up in your own apartment and they would help you find a job that you would like to do. No one would suspect you’re the princess who disappeared. You’d be safe. That is what you want, isn’t it?”
“You know it is, but I’ve been thinking about the chef who’s in the hospital and how desperate you must be feeling right now. You saved my life by bringing me to Milan. Instead of putting you in an impossible position, I’d like to do something of value for you in return,” she said in an aching voice.
She had a way of running over every roadblock. He sat back and studied her for a moment, intrigued. “What do you mean?”
“Why not teach me to be a pastry chef so I can work at your ristorante until he’s well and can fly here. I’d do anything to help you if I could.”
It took all his self-control not to laugh. To his shock, he had the strongest suspicion she was being completely serious. “Are you saying you know how to cook?”
A small sound escaped her throat. “No. I’m embarrassed to tell you I’ve never cooked anything from start to finish in my life, although I spent a lot of time in the palazzo kitchen growing up. The cooks were kind to me and let me watch. I washed lettuce and sometimes they’d let me beat egg whites or stir the gravy. Once in a while they’d allow me to sift the flour into the cake bowl before it was baked.”
“Does that mean you didn’t learn to cook at boarding school?”
She laughed outright. “You have a strange idea of what goes on there.”
“Actually I do know, and was only teasing.” Despite the impossibility of what she’d said, the more they talked, the more he found himself enjoying her company. Too much in fact.
“I’m relieved to hear it, Cesare. To be honest, that boarding school in France happened so long ago I’ve forgotten. All I know is, I was waited on. When my parents enrolled me at the University of Paris, I had to live with them in an apartment in St. Germain des Pres. Would it reassure you to know that I told my maid I could make my own tea and instant coffee in the microwave?”
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