Cara Mia - Book One of the Immortyl Revolution (7 page)

The door opened and they piled in, three women and two men besides Richard. The women all had that look, polished and expensive, like yachts. The youngest was about forty, tall, blonde and if not beautiful, elegant. Katherine was hardly the gorgon I’d expected.

She cooed over me. “Isn’t she just adorable? Where
did
you find that destructive streak, darling? We should all watch out for her.” The others tittered. “Of course, Richard always has a knack for spotting
young talent
.”

Her subtext was clear. She knew. I wasn’t the first; she’d been through it all before. It was clearly a warning for me to stay put in my proper place. It was like I’d swallowed a baseball, one with the sawdust leaking out. My eyes started to tear up as I bit my lip.

A smug smile fluttered over Katherine’s face. “Come Richard, we’ve reservations at Twenty One. Goodbye Miss Disantini— good luck on the rest of your
run.
”

She didn’t mean the play, I assure you. I waited until they’d gone before I put my head down on the dressing table and cried. He’d never leave her for me. I was a naive little fool to believe it. After this catharsis, I was hell-bent on revenge and wished for some way of getting back at Richard. As I always say, be careful what you wish for…

My tears dried, I put on my new clothes intending to join my friends at Salvi’s. I left the theatre and stood on the corner waiting for the light to change. Then, like some genie, he materialized before me on the sidewalk. My prayers were answered, but by whom I’ll never know, because it was him, my beautiful stranger, six-four of him towering over me. I shivered over his sheer size, again I felt faint. He was as foreign to my Italian-American sensibilities as an extra terrestrial, the antithesis of everything I was. Boy, how opposites can attract.

He spoke in that gorgeous drawl, “Miss Disantini! I looked in on your performance again but I’m afraid I was unable to speak with you. The stagehand told me you were otherwise engaged. I do apologize.”

I tried to sound casual. As if I could really fool
him
. “Oh, it’s you, Mr?”

“Sinclair.”
Sin-cleah.
I might have died, definitely not from my neighborhood. “Are you on your way somewhere?”

Some-wheah
, he says and I’m melting like honey over hot biscuits. I milked it for all it was worth. “Home.” I sniffled for effect. “Plans kinda fell through.”

He suppressed a smile, obviously not overwhelmed by my tragic performance. “Delightful— I mean for me. May I invite you for supper?”

Suppah, breakfast, anywheah.

“Lovely, may I suggest a place?” My, I was being bold but my wish required being seen.

“Of course, I intended to ask for your recommendation.”

So-o-o accommodating. I wanted to accommodate him right then and there. “Well, it’s probably not what you’re used to— but the food is great, real Italian. It’s just right around the corner,” I said, longing to show him some real Italian cooking straight through to dessert.

Knowing I was up to something, he offered his arm. “Lead on, Miss Disantini… ”

And off we went on a little date with destiny…

Salvi’s was crowded and noisy, one of those great little places with tacky paintings of the Italian countryside on the wall and signed photographs of celebrities. My glossy was displayed along with the rest. Mr. Salvi had a soft spot for me. My friends were seated at their regular table trading insults and witticisms, imbibing vast quantities of cheap Chianti. I waved to them. They applauded and whistled. We were duly noted.

Mr. Salvi, a short rotund man in his sixties with a perpetually red face bustled up. He greeted me, kissing my cheeks, “Ah Miss Mia, the prettiest little girl in New York!”

I planted a big smack on his lips. “Howya doin’ Mr. Salvi?”

“Can’t complain, business is good and you’re here. Will you be joining your friends?”

I grinned back and winked. “Table for two, if you please.”

He nudged me in the ribs. “Nice young man, eh? Much better for a young lady, yes?”

I replied in an exaggerated stage whisper, “I’m inclined to agree with you.”

My companion cast a sidelong glance at me. All part of the show, but I was playing in earnest tonight. I’d actually forgotten Richard for a moment. Present company was beyond thrilling.

We made our way through the maze of crowded little tables. He helped me into my chair. Lovely manners, of course good manners were more common back then but his were always impeccable. When he took his seat he leaned over the table to me and said in a sort of low growl, “Am I being used, Miss Disantini?”

I grinned back. “You’re on to me Mr. Sinclair.” Oh, Mr. Sinclair with an accent on the
sin
.

“I saw your…
friend
, leaving with… the others.”

“His wife. Shocked?” This
was
nineteen fifty.

Didn’t even blink an eye. “I’m a man of the world, Miss Disantini. May I call you Maria?”

“No one ever called me that except for my dried up maiden aunt. Call me, Mia.”

An amazingly liquid smiled flowed over his lips. “
Va bene
,
cara mia.”

I blinked, surprised he used the endearment my father did and even more that he pronounced it so beautifully. “You speak Italian?”

“I speak many languages.”

The waiter approached us to take our order.

“Hiya Mikey. What’s good tonight?”

He was one of those waiters who’s extremely competent but always looks like his dog just died. Never wrote anything down but never made a mistake either. “Calamari’s good; veal’s better.”

I took the safer option. One could never tell how a gentleman would react to a girl eating squid. “The veal, please.”

“And the gentleman?”

The smooth smile never left my companion’s face and frosty eyes never left mine. “Nothing thank you, I dined earlier. Please bring the young lady whatever she wants.”

“You’ll be sorry. Bring the lot Mikey! Mussels to start and a basket of bread, I’m starved. And the best red you’ve got. He’s paying!” I pointed to my amused date.

Mikey hurried away. My companion still had his eyes glued to me awaiting my next move, mouth twitching with unexpressed laughter. In spite of the hauteur, he had a sense of humor. “You’re very straightforward.”

“You’re rich, aren’t you?”

Didn’t miss a beat, leaning in to me, grinning in a wolfish way. “Fabulously.”

I continued on my merry way. “Music to my ears, listen you don’t have a wife do you?”

He laughed at my gaucherie. “No.”

Angels were singing somewhere. “You’re getting better by the minute. I can’t believe
you’re
single!”

“I was married once. She died long ago.”

Open mouth insert foot, Mia. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be so rude. I always say just what I think. It’s a bad habit.”

“Your candor is refreshing,” he said with a touch of world-weariness.

Ooh! What made him tick? Yet undiscovered levels to his character.
Tres
sophisticated. Our eyes met. Was my mouth watering?

The piano player started to play soft dinner music. Usually as the night wore on he’d play show tunes or Italian songs and guests would sing along.

“What’s your first name?”

“Ethan— Ethan Allen Sinclair.”

I actually sighed, “Ethan Allen Sinclair— sounds like a character from a book— can’t say I’ve ever met an Ethan before.”

“I’ve never met a Mia before. It’s a delicious experience.”

Oh, he was good, but it didn’t matter. I was falling anyway. I blushed.

“Where in the universe did you drop from?” If he’d said Alpha Centauri it wouldn’t have surprised me.

“Virginia.”

“Old money?”

A mysterious smile slid over his luscious mouth. “Very old.”

“You have that look. Why Ethan Allen, I mean, wasn’t he a
Yankee
?”

He chuckled. “My father asked my mother that same question the day I was born. She thought an unusual name lent distinction.”

“Why me?”

A puzzled look passed briefly over his face. “Whatever do you mean?”

I gestured to a colleague of mine, a tall, blonde gazelle of a girl. “Why not my friend Janie over there? She’s the real beauty.”

He paused for a moment, smiling. “
You
exceed her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December
.”

“Much Ado about Nothing.
You know your Shakespeare.”

“I read extensively. I’m particularly fond of Shakespeare.”

“Not just a pretty face?”

“I hope not.”

“And it
is
a very pretty face.”

Large eyes widened and blinked in surprise. I actually upset his considerable composure. “I suppose I should thank you for the compliment, but I can’t say I’d agree with your choice of adjective.”

“Handsome doesn’t really say it, does it?”

Beautiful would only begin to describe him.

He laughed again. “It’ll do. Thank you.”

I stretched out my hand to him. Again he looked slightly surprised and amused yet took it in his. “I like your face very much.” He stroked the palm of my hand.

“Cute.” I grimaced. “That’s what they say.”

“Leonardo might have painted this face, pure in its lineaments, eyes that tantalize with secrets.”

“Quit, you’ll turn my head,” I said imitating his accent.

His eyes moved lovingly over my face. “That, my dear Miss Disantini, is my motive.”

I was taken aback. He had me at the disadvantage and it was so delicious. I tried to remove my hand but he hung on. Something happened in that moment. The attraction went beyond the realm of the physical. I broke that lovely silence because I feared to hold his gaze another second. “Where the heck is my food?” But I was lost. I’d fallen with a resounding thud.

The piano player struck up a show tune. My friends sang along loudly. Ethan looked over at them. “Your fellow thespians?”

I grimaced. “They’ve had a few by now.”

Suddenly Burt, the delightfully bitchy old queen who played Solness rushed over to the table. “Sing, Baby Bird. Warble a song for your lovely young man.”

I was embarrassed. Sometimes I’d get up to sing, but I was sure I couldn’t manage a note. He took me by the arm, announcing to the entire restaurant, “It’s her birthday!”

The piano crescendoed into
Happy Birthday
and everyone joined in. I was red-faced. Ethan just sat back and enjoyed my discomfort. “Happy Birthday, Mia.”

“Come on Baby, let’s have that song,” Burt cajoled.

Applause started up.

I shook my head. “No, please. I can’t.”

Ethan leaned back, crossing his arms over that impressive chest. “I’d be honored if you would sing, Mia.”

“Theah, mustn’t disappoint your handsome new beau, dawlin,” drawled Burt, in an outrageous parody of Ethan’s accent as he dragged me off to the piano.

He nodded to the piano player. “
A Kiss to Build a Dream On.”

I was shaking as the pianist played the intro in my key. My voice came out as a breathy whisper. I looked over to Ethan, who’d leaned forward smiling. My confidence returned and I set out to seduce him with the song.

I finished to more applause. Taking a bow, I rejoined Ethan at the table just as Mikey hustled up with my first course.

Ethan took my hand. “Enchanting, perfectly enchanting.”

“My father was an opera singer. He taught me when I was young, but my voice is just a light, little thing.”

“Clear and pleasing as a silver bell. A man could be driven to his destruction by a sweet siren such as you.”

I laughed. “You’re too kind.”

Mikey placed a soup plate piled high with mussels and a large basket of freshly baked bread before me. I sniffed in appreciation.

Ethan gave me that slow lazy smile. “You appreciate the pleasures of the table.”

What an odd way to put it. He had this strange, pretty way of talking. Even if it was just a line I took the bait eagerly. As I dug into the first course, Ethan observed me carefully, like he’d never seen a girl eat before.

“Are you sure you won’t have anything?” I asked.

His eyes glittered giving away no secrets. “No thank you, I’ll just sit here and watch you. That’s a veritable bed of mussels. I do hope you have a healthy appetite.”

“Voracious, I’ll be fat someday if I’m not careful,” I said, as I speared a mussel with my fork and shoved it in my mouth. Mmm, garlic, wine and the slightly iodine taste of the sea exploded in my mouth.

“I don’t see any danger of that.” His eyes gave me the once over then rested on my low cut bodice. “Girls today are too skinny, if you ask me.”

I swallowed. “So you like your ladies with a little meat on their bones?”

“It depends on where you’re talking about,” he said, with that little growl.

I leaned over and inquired slyly, “How do I measure up?”

He laughed, glittering eyes fixing on mine. “I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I answered that question the way I’d like.”

“I think you’re a rogue at heart.”

“And do you like rogues?”

“If they’re handsome ones.”

He burst out laughing again as he leaned back in the chair. “There’s a bit of the rogue in you too, isn’t there?”

“Promise not to tell?” I winked. “Won’t you at least have some wine?”

He looked longingly at my glass. “I’m afraid I must abstain,” he said, regretfully.

Interesting, he didn’t look like a teetotaler. I certainly hoped he wasn’t an alcoholic. My, wasn’t I in for a surprise? I began to eat again while he looked on. It was making me very uncomfortable to be scrutinized so. I set down my fork and burst out, “Well, if I’m going to sit here and eat in front of you, you have to tell me something about yourself.”

He seemed a bit taken aback but replied graciously, “There isn’t really much to tell.”

“Oh come on, you’re one great big enigma, like some mysterious gothic hero. I just know you have a past. What skeletons are lurking in the family closet? Do you have a mad brother locked away in the attic?”

He smiled slowly. “Nothing like that, I assure you. However, there’s one thing you might find interesting. I’m restoring my family estate in Virginia. They lost it after the war.”