The Breakup (12 page)

“Why don’t you want kiss me, Aja? I not sexy for you?”

“Good God, Pietro, you’re sexy enough for three women. I’m just not up to the challenge.”

He leaned his arm on the door above her head and looked down into her face. “You are challenge.”

“No, I don’t mean that, I mean I’m not ready for someone like you. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You are ready, bella, you just don’t know it yet.” He leaned down slowly and brushed his lips across hers. Aja's eyes closed and she was swept into the flood of desire. He drew it up from deep inside her. She trembled and wanted more.

The door behind her disappeared. She fell through space and landed on her back with a thunk, her bags spilling from her hands around her. Staring down at her was a pair of dark blue, arrogant - but amused - eyes.

“Sorry to spoil the party, but you might want to get to bed now. Work starts rather early.” Marco gave Pietro a fierce look. “You better get to the men’s quarters. You don’t want to make the other ladies jealous.”

Aja looked between her feet, but Pietro was already gone. He’d set the bags down outside the door. She squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten, then opened them when she heard muffled snickering.

“You going to sleep there, Aja?”

“No.” She struggled to her feet and of course Mr. 'High and Mighty' didn’t offer her a hand. She rubbed her sore backside and glared at him.
 

He smiled, all innocence, and pointed to the stairs. “You do know where your room is?”

“Yes."
Goodnight Mr. “Prick”.
Of course she said the last part under her breath so he wouldn’t hear. From the look on his face, though, she didn't think she said it quietly enough. She gathered up her shopping bags.

The stairs were steep and she could already feel the bruises forming on her rear. Thanks to Marco, she was going to be sore on her first day. At least the rash had subsided quickly. That was a relief. The morning would come far too soon.

Aja set her alarm clock for five-thirty, got undressed and sat on the bed, staring at the wall. Going to bed at nine o’clock was too weird for her. She’d always been a night owl and loved staying up till all hours of the evening. Having to wake up at five-thirty was a new thing for her. She knew sleep was important, she just couldn’t figure out how to convince her body of that. It didn’t want to sleep, it wanted other things. It wanted to continue what Marco had so rudely interrupted.
Oh hell!

She got up and paced the room. It didn’t help. She still burned for Pietro. Stupid woman. She stopped walking, struck by a thought. What was Marco doing in the women’s villa? Maybe he was visiting a woman. No, surely he could get her to visit him in the big house. Maybe he was checking up on her. Why would he do that? Why would he open the door when he knew she was leaning on it? That was just plain ignorant.
Yup. He just wanted to be an asshole as usual.
No news flash there.

Aja threw herself onto the mattress and pulled the pillow over her head. No good. It was hot and that just made her unable to breathe. So unless she planned on suffocating herself to sleep... Aja pulled on shorts and a tank top and left the room. A walk would be just the thing, she assured herself.

The air was cooler outside, but not by much. The darkness made it difficult to see the path in front of her. It was refreshing outside, and much better than the stuffy room. The fact that she would pay for the nightly wakefulness in the morning was something she shoved far into the back of her mind where it belonged.

Aja wandered up and down the rows of grape vines being very careful not to touch them. Their perfect rows and crisp leaves were amazing. They looked so otherworldly and very different from anything in her experience.

It suddenly came to her. She was there, in Italy, like she’d always dreamed. She hugged her arms around herself and grinned like an idiot. It was exotic, charming, breathtaking and just plain incredible. She had never been so happy.

Aja heard something behind her and she spun around, her heart in her throat. Marco was advancing on her, his eyes intent on her form. Aja wrapped her arms around herself again and tried to shield herself from his gaze.

“Aja, what are you doing out here? I could have shot you.” His voice was low, but she detected menace.

Aja tried to sound calm. “I’m just going for a walk.”

“Dressed in your underclothes? Among the vines you’re allergic to?” His voice was riddled with suspicion now.

“I’m not dressed in my underclothes. This is a tank top and shorts and I’m being very careful not to touch the vines.”

He stared at her for a few seconds, not saying anything. Then he said, “I have no idea what a tank and shorts are, but they are almost indecent. No, they ARE indecent. You shouldn’t be out like this. The workers are not gentlemen. I am suspicious, though, why you would be out in the vines. Are you sure you aren’t giving away our secrets?”

Aja stared at him, dumbfounded. “Secrets? What secrets? I didn’t even know there
were
secrets involved with growing grapes.”

He let out a hearty laugh. “I should have known better. You really don’t know anything about wine making, do you?”

Aja sniffed. “No, but that doesn’t make me a bad person, you know.”

“No, it doesn’t.” His voice was soft. “You’re not a bad person, Aja. You’re a rather interesting person.”

She took a step back. She hadn’t seen this side of him. He wasn’t being arrogant, he was being nice. That didn’t sit well with her image of Mr. ‘Haughty’.

He stepped closer. She started as he reached toward her, but he only plucked a grape beside her arm. Aja reflexively stepped away. So far she hadn’t noticed an allergy to grapes or wine, though the amount consumed during her university years should have put her off it forever.

He lifted the grape and examined it carefully. “Generations have poured their lives into creating this,” he mused. “My ancestors loved wine, and they spent their lifetime giving to this winery only to get back this small return.” He shook his head as if mystified by it all.

“I thought your father came from Canada?” she asked, a little hesitant to break into his reflective mood.

He wasn’t disturbed. “You’re right. He did come from Canada, but my mother’s people have owned this vineyard for generations. My father married her and took over the running of it until he died. My mother worked it until I finished my studies and took it over. It’s been an honorable life.”

The way he said it spoke to her of dissatisfaction, and dreams of other things, but that didn’t make sense. When he spoke of the vines, the grapes, she heard passion. You wouldn’t have passion for something you didn’t love to do.

Hesitantly, she voiced these thoughts and he turned to her with a smile. His eyes were unnerving when turned fully on her. “You surprise me, Aja. You understand a lot without being told.”

His praise warmed her. She wondered if the Italian air was turning her into a weak woman. Just an hour before, she’d hated him.

“You’re right; I am dissatisfied. Not with growing grapes and making wine, but with the old ways. I want to try new things and move forward with the times… but we’re in Italy.” He shrugged. “I fight against progress, I fight against the old ways, and then I’m made to feel disloyal to my ancestors. I can’t do it anymore. I want to go where they embrace progress.”

He finished and stared skyward for a moment, then turned to her. “I’m sorry, Aja. I didn’t mean to tell you all this.” He cocked his head and studied her. “You are a very sympathetic listener. I’ve never talked to anyone about how I feel.”

“Not even Nona?”

He laughed, but didn’t sound amused, more like cynicism. “Especially not Nona. She would have a heart attack to hear me speak of these things. She’s always done everything the way it’s always been done.” His shoulders slumped in frustration.

“Maybe that’s because it’s the only way she knows. No one has ever asked her to try a different way.”

He lifted his head and stared into her eyes for a minute. She could see hope sparking in his eyes before it slowly dimmed again. He moved his shoulders as though easing the fit of his shirt. “No. It’s not that. You don’t understand.”

“I guess I don’t. What do I know about wine growing? I’m allergic to the vines.”

Marco laughed and took Aja’s hand, pulling her close to him. He brushed his other hand over her hair and smiled into her eyes. She stared up into his, unable to look away. He leaned down and brushed a soft kiss on her mouth, hovered for a minute, then pulled her into a full, wet, amazing kiss. Aja’s head spun and she hung onto him, trying to keep her balance. He pulled her close, rubbed a hand down her back and over her thin tank top. Aja’s breasts were pressed into his chest and she wanted more, much more.

He wrenched away with a gasp and stared at her, his eyes wide. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, then turned and left. Aja heard him say, “You better get inside,” before he disappeared. It took her a few minutes to recover. She wandered toward the women’s villa in a daze, unsure what had just happened. She knew one thing for sure: she had no idea who Marco really was. He’d shown a side of himself that shocked her, but one she liked very much. Aja couldn’t reconcile it with the haughty man who’d spilled the espresso in her lap without even a glance or an apology. He intrigued her and that was not a good thing.
Not a good thing at all.

Chapter 17

The morning came early. Aja felt groggy as she stumbled around getting dressed. Her stomach did flips and flops as she thought about her new position as a nanny. She knew nothing about interacting with children; her biggest hope was that she at least wouldn’t kill one of them.

After getting ready, Aja went downstairs and found her co-workers gathered around the table eating. She smiled and joined them. They were all speaking in Italian and she felt like the foreigner she was. They smiled at her, said a few things in Italian to which she smiled, shrugged and said, “
Non parlo Italiano
.”

They all seemed surprised that a worker wouldn’t be able to speak the language. They went back to their conversations, their eyes drifting to her every so often so she knew they were talking about her. It made Aja uncomfortable not knowing what they were saying, so she carried on a pretend conversation in her head.

Lady #1: “Did you see her nice clothes? I wish I could ask her where she bought them.”

Lady #2: “Yes, she’s very stylish and beautiful.”

“Lady #3: “Did you see her kissing Marco last night?”

With a jerk, she realized the conversation was veering into dangerous territory. She had been trying not to think about him so her make-believe ladies decided to bring it up. Marco. What on earth possessed him to kiss her last night? What possessed her to kiss back? She didn’t even like him. Then he’d had to share his dreams, become human, and she couldn’t resist him.
Anytime a guy gets all sappy with me, I’m gone. It’s a good thing most guys don’t know that or they’d invent a secret formula to use on me. “Hey dude, just do this and she’s yours. She’ll be like putty in your hands.”

Aja ate fast, unable to eat more than half her breakfast because of her nervous stomach. She left before the other women so she could have everything prepared for them like Nona said. At least the ladies she was staying with wouldn’t be there. The married women brought their kids from home.

Aja opened the nursery door and saw someone was already inside. It was a young girl, about twelve years old.
 

“
Ciao.
”

The girl smiled, her brown eyes lighting up. She was very pretty.

“
Ciao. Siete la nuova bambinaia
?”

“
Non parlo italiano
.”

The girl was surprised, and her brown eyes opened wide. “
Io
non parlo inglese
.”

That was something Aja understood. Her stomach sank. She was going to have to learn a few words at least. She smiled and shrugged. “
va bene
” (It’s okay) She wracked her brain to think of any more phrases she’d picked up along the way.

“
Lei parla un po 'italiano
” the girl said, giving Aja a big smile.

It sounded like she was saying, “You speak a little Italian.”

Aja said, “
Pochissimo
.” She knew that to mean ‘very little’ from her forays into the restaurants.
 

While they weren’t talking their heads off, they were communicating a little,
a pochissimo
.

Aja waved her hand at the room. “Um,
per favore
...” she waved at the room again, not knowing how to ask the girl to show her where everything was and what to do.

The young girl studied Aja for a minute, then said, “
Mi chiamo Daniela
.” She thumped her chest. Aja got it.

Aja tried to copy her words exactly. “
Mi chiamo Aja
.” She thumped her chest a little more dramatically and Daniela laughed.
Good. Now we know each other’s names.