The Sicilian's Proposition (4 page)

She smiled. There was such warmth behind her eyes. “It’s anything but humble, Dante. This has to be the most luxurious suite I’ve ever seen in my life!”

Her eyes widened as she looked right and left. He liked that. She seemed awestruck by her opulent surroundings. Whereas, someone like Carla took all this for granted.

“One of the perks as owner of this hotel, but if I am honest, there is an even better suite of rooms on the top floor.”

He admitted he took a lot for granted too. This room with its marble floors, mirrored walls interspersed with mosaic tiles, was very grand. Even the fountain in the middle of the room was magnificent. Yes, he was a lucky man.

“So the rooms upstairs,” she inquired, “who stays there?”

“Well, apart from some famous celebrities you would certainly know, at the moment there is a sheik staying there.”

She arched her brows. “With all his wives?”

He laughed. “No, just one wife and his entourage.” This woman was so charming, so simple and petite. The total opposite of Carla, in fact. She would not be enthralled by any of this.

“I suppose I was making an assumption…”

“You were indeed. Now where are my manners, let me take your wrap and would you like a drink?”

“No manservant?”

He laughed again. “No, not on this occasion. I thought it was better we dined alone.” For a moment, he detected a suspicious look in her eyes. “Have no worries…it’s because I have personal information I want to share with you that I’d rather we were alone.”

***

How had he known what she was thinking? Well he did have a reputation he’d prefer not to uphold. Her cheeks suffused with heat. “Yes, I would like a drink, please.”

“So, what’s your poison? I have white wine, red wine, cocktails, beers, soft drinks.” He opened a large refrigerator she had thought was an ornamental cabinet.
How clever that disguise was.

“A vodka and lemonade, please.”

“Coming up! Please make yourself comfortable.” She drank in her surroundings as she sank into a gold sofa covered with scatter cushions of red and gold. In her wildest dreams, she’d never been in a hotel room like this with a man.

She trembled and wondered if she was just cold. The door to the balcony was ajar, or was it that she felt nervous in the company of such an attractive man? She got out of the chair, meaning to close the balcony door. Instead, drawn onto the flowered balcony with its ornate table and chairs and the most breathtaking view of London she had ever seen, she stepped outside. In the distance, she could see the London Eye. How glorious.

She turned to see Dante offering her a drink in a tall glass. “Your vodka and lemonade,
signorina
. I took the liberty of adding some ice and a slice of lemon.” She smiled and thanked him, taking the chilled glass from his hand. “You like it out here?”

“I do. It must be amazing for you coming out onto this balcony at night when the stars are out, to see the lights and the hustle and bustle down below. Then to get up in the morning and maybe have your breakfast out here?”

He smiled, one of his broad grins revealing his white even teeth. “It is, yes, but I have to admit I take it too much for granted. I’ve been living between here and Sicily for the best part of two years. Sometimes we fail to see the beauty in front of us. It’s a bit like when a couple gets married. At first the groom thinks, if he is lucky, his bride is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. He gazes into her eyes and feels he could get lost in them. As time goes on and they start a family, he forgets to look into those eyes. Then like a fool, he may even look elsewhere. His bride becomes part of the furniture. The bride thinks on her wedding day, also if she is lucky, her husband is the most handsome man at the banquet, but as time marches on, she forgets to look at him in the same way. He also blends into the background.”

“That’s very profound of you, Dante.”

“It is, yes. I have my moments.” He took her by the hand and turned her around. “Here, come back inside, it’s a little chilly. We can go out on the balcony later. I will lend you my jacket to drape around your shoulders.”

She shivered as he led her inside.
This wasn’t supposed to happen, was it? Such intimacy?
She was here on a professional level and needed to remind herself of that fact. Taking her time, she eased her hand out of his.

“So, I think I’d better get those facts recorded before I drink too many of these!” Her laugh sounded hollow to her own ears.

“I thought we could dine like before and chat as we go along,” he chided.

“No.” She shook her head. “Just let me run through this list of questions that need clearing up. The tape didn’t work yesterday, and I want to check my facts.”

“Very well, come into my office.” He led her down a long, narrow, tiled passageway and into an impressive looking office with what appeared to be walnut furnishings and large prints of old London on the walls. “I shall be right back,
un momento
…”

He was only gone for a couple of minutes, leaving her to absorb her surroundings.

On his desk she spied a silver frame of an elderly looking man and woman. “My mamma and papa,” he said with obvious pride as he entered the room.

She turned. “They were that bride and groom you spoke about?”

He nodded and swallowed. “Yes, they forgot about one another. Mamma had six children including me. I am the youngest. Papa worked hard at the vineyard. They stopped looking at one another. I don’t want that to happen in my relationship.” It was beginning to make sense now, why Dante, disillusioned with married life, might have become a playboy. “But there is a happy ending to the tale.”

“Yes?”

“They got back together in later years. You see, they had never fallen out of love in the first place. They were meant for one another. They just forgot one another along the way. She died in his arms, but she was at peace.”

She could see the love he had for his parents reflected in his eyes and longed to hug him, but if she did, he might get the wrong impression.

Letting out a breath, he gestured for her to sit down as he sat opposite on his leather-backed computer chair. “Please, Joanne, fire away…”

It was at least another hour before they emerged from the office. She was exhausted but happy with how the interview went. She’d come to know a lot more about the man, and what she heard about him, she liked very much indeed.

“Come on, it is time to eat,” he invited.

She hadn’t eaten much all day and hadn’t thought about food, either, but now for some reason was ravenous. Maybe it was because she was more at ease. More in control. She held the trump cards and didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to. She was safe. In any case, poor Mediterranean men had an awful reputation to live up to and that included Dante.

He led her into a dining room with a grand long table decked out with silver salvers covered with lids. There was a huge distance between both chairs.
How impersonal.

“I got my chef to prepare a little something for us.”

A little something? You could probably feed the five thousand with what was beneath those salvers.

He chuckled to himself.
What was he finding so funny?

He led her to the table and whipped back a silver lid with a flourish. There was some sort of package beneath, wrapped in newspaper.

“I don’t understand?”

“It’s fish and chips, Joanne. I arranged for someone to go out and pick them up. I know a great little chip shop around the corner.”

She burst into laughter. All this finery for a portion of good old cod and chips.

“We can take them out on the balcony; there’s a heater out there and you can borrow one of my jackets. You do like fish and chips, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do very much. You couldn’t have chosen anything better, honestly. Although I loved our lunch the other day, this really does it for me.”

“I shall have to remember that. Follow me, Joanne,” he said, lifting the salver of fish and chips in one hand and placing a hand on his hip for her to link with him.

When they arrived on the balcony, she could see the heater was already on and the railings had been adorned with twinkling white lights; in the corner was an old gramophone player. He must have done all this while he left her in his office earlier. What a surprise.

“Just a moment…” he said, placing the salver on the table, “there’s something I have to do…” He lifted the needle onto a record already on the turntable and a soft Italian ballad wafted from the speaker.

“Mamma loved this song. Papa sang it all the time to her.” His face took on a wistful look, and he sat down opposite her at the table. For the first time she noticed a bottle of white wine. “Would you like some?” he inquired.

“Yes, please.” She unwrapped the packets of fish and chips.

“There’s salt and vinegar on the table,” he said.

“Thank you. You looked pensive when you put the record on.”

“Yes, I was. I was thinking about Mamma and Papa, and the love they shared with one another. Sometimes people search a lifetime for it and never find it. They had it all along but lost one another for a time, but thankfully both got back together in the end.”

Now she understood. Swallowing, she said, “Yes, that kind of love is special, isn’t it?”

He looked into her eyes and they shared a moment. “Now please eat your fish and chips.” He dazzled her with his smile.

She nodded and tucked in. They were the best fish and chips she’d ever tasted. The batter coating on the fish was light and crispy and the chunky chips cooked to perfection. It was reassuring to know someone like him who was used to the finer things in life also loved the simple things.

“You enjoy?” He asked, his eyes full of concern.

“Very much so. Thank you, Dante. You’ll have to give me the name and address of that fish and chip shop.”

He laughed. “It’s no secret, Joanne. A new friend of mine, Jack Harding, runs it. It’s a family business. I’ll write the name and address down for you, if you like.”

She nodded. “I would like.” Then she bit into a chip. There was something about eating fish and chips out of newspaper and in the outdoors that made them taste so much better. It reminded her of family holidays at the seaside with her parents.

When they had finished eating, Dante removed the rubbish from the table and poured another glass of wine. Then he put on another record to play. This she recognized as a sultry love song. “Shall we?” he asked, taking her hand.

Her heart beat a wild tattoo beneath her dress, and although she had been quite cool, now she was hot for some reason. She removed his jacket from her shoulders and they both stood. When he took her into his arms, she trembled as he closed in. He took her one hand in his, and wrapping his free arm around her waist, he placed his cheek next to hers. This was so up close and personal. Unused to such intimacy from him, she held her breath and then let it out again.

She was so close she could feel the beat of his heart up against her chest and inhale his fragrant aftershave, which she guessed was very expensive.

Clearly, he was used to this kind of thing; it was so natural to him. The heat emanating between them and the tension was palpable. She took a steadying breath to remind herself she was working.
But couldn’t work and pleasure mix now and again?

“Did you know this song is well-known in Sicily?” His warm breath tickled her ear as he whispered, seduction incarnate. She shook her head. “Yes, and after a wonderful meal and a good bottle of wine, what could be better than to dance to this under the moonlight?”

All too soon, the music drifted away and he released her from his embrace and seated himself back at the table as if nothing much had happened, but she knew it had, at least on her part. She wondered for a moment if he had imagined Carla was in his arms.

They both sat sipping wine in silence for a while.

“A pound for them, Joanne?” he said, quirking a brow.

Puzzled, she frowned and then burst into laughter. He’d mixed up his words. “Don’t you mean a penny?”

His tanned face broke into a huge grin. “Yes, sorry, that was what I meant.”

“I know you have a lot of money, Dante, but there was no need to show off!”

He laughed. “Seriously, though, you looked deep in thought.”

“Some old memories returned to me…”

“Oh?” He leaned across the table, and for a moment she questioned whether he was about to take her hand.

“Eating the fish and chips out of paper reminded me of the seaside holidays I had with my parents as a child.”

“That is good,
si
?”

She nodded. It was good, yes, but painful too. “I need to sort out a photo shoot with you, if that’s okay?”

“Yes, but of course.”

“I was thinking maybe a few photographs taken in your hotel suite, and maybe at the London office of the Foundation?”

“Yes, that sounds good to me, but how about also at my family home in Sicily?”

She gulped. “Sicily? I don’t know if the magazine would pay to fly both myself and a photographer over there.”