‘I can’t make her out,’ said Mary.
‘Well, a few days from now it’ll all be over,’ said Dante, ‘and we’ll know whether her efforts have paid off.’
‘The Lombardi List is announced as part of the Assumption Day festival, in the piazza?’
‘Yes. At five o’clock. Over the years it has become part of the celebrations. The mayor announces the list.’
‘It must be really important to the capital, then.’
‘We will set up a barbecue, at the front of the pizzeria, and offer takeaway food for passers-by. You must make some special biscuits. There are street entertainers galore. Traditional Italian folk music. Painting. Dancing. Craft stalls. The tourists love it – and all the locals who have the day off work. There is a small food market where locals sell breads, cheeses, and olives and pasta … plus a chocolatier and panettone specialist and one company selling nothing but pizza sauces. Natale will set up her table selling jewellery.’
‘She’s worked so hard over recent weeks – I hope her hobby takes off.’ Mary raised an eyebrow. ‘And then there is your dance competition …’
Dante grimaced. ‘We have lots of rehearsals next week.’
They walked silently, arm in arm, until eventually they left the touristy areas and reached a little avenue lined with small hotels and bars.
‘All the things you told Margherita you enjoyed now, like watching Lucia grow up – when were you going to tell me you’d fallen in love?’ she asked, hating herself for mentioning it. Just the thought of him, with another woman, made a sense of nausea back up her throat.
He turned to face her. His chest heaved in and out.
‘The meal tonight. I hope you liked it. It … wasn’t just for work. I wanted to be with you, Mary. I can’t fight it any longer. It’s you. You’ve irrevocably stolen my heart.’
Numbly she stared. ‘But … but wait … no … I mean … that romantic evening was just a business task, wasn’t it, to see how the competition would cope with a special request?’
He shook his head. ‘It was mostly to show you that I’ve been wrong. That really—’
She stepped back. ‘Don’t do this, Dante. You are simply feeling emotional tonight. You aren’t thinking straight. Twice we’ve got close but then you’ve pushed me away.’ Her voice cracked. ‘I can’t go through that again. Don’t play with my feelings. This isn’t a game.’
‘But since we talked last weekend – about Mamma – it’s given me perspective. Oh, Mary—’
‘Don’t ruin things. We can just be friends. That’s what you really want.’
‘It isn’t,’ he said firmly. ‘Just hear me out.’
‘No! Because, do you hear that? It’s my heart breaking, Dante. Actually breaking because no one’s ever going to love me unconditionally and it’s cruel of you to tease me like this.’ She hurried away, Dante following her footsteps with his stick.
‘You just need a good night’s sleep,’ she called back and wiped her eyes. ‘I’m not destined for a Happy Ever After. No point pretending otherwise.’
With that, Mary turned the corner and saw the underground in her sight. She stopped to blow her nose and was just about to stride ahead when a strong hand held her shoulder.
‘Don’t be cross.’ Dante turned her around.
‘I’m not,’ she said firmly. ‘But you’ve got to understand – I can’t cope with the ups and downs. The push and pull. I’ve had that all my life – got attached to people and then been emotionally moved on. I’ve decided to move out of the restaurant as soon as possible, Dante. It’s the best thing. You and I, we are just colleagues.’
‘Moving out? No!’
‘Why not? Only last week you were planning to do the same.’
‘But you belong at Pizzeria Dolce Vita.’
‘You warned me off that. And you were right. I need to carve out a life here for myself.’
‘Can you not see how you have become part of our lives? Lucia adores you. Natale loves the female company. And you have opened up Rocco as if he were a brand-new butterfly just waiting to learn how to fly.’
‘And what about you?’
He dropped his head for a second. ‘I have struggled, Mary. Truly struggled with my feelings for you.’
‘But why? Because of your mum’s death?’
A crowd of youngsters passed them, laughing and joking. Dante jerked his head backwards. ‘Let’s find a bar. Talk this through properly.’
‘There’s no point …’
He took her arm. ‘No arguments. Mochaccinos on me.’
‘No.’ She hurried away, shoes tip-tapping, right to the end of the road. Mary heard the sound of Dante’s stick behind her and, distracted for a moment, managed to trip over her own feet.
Mary pulled herself up. ‘Great. Grimy patches on my skirt.’
‘A lack of caffeine is a terrible thing,’ said Dante, having caught up. ‘It means the brain doesn’t focus properly. Therefore, it is my duty to buy you another dose.’
‘Idiot,’ she said and sighed.
Minutes later Mary found herself sitting in a private corner in a piano bar. Slow-paced jazz sounded in the background. The lights were dim. There were hardly any other customers and the barman started to tidy up for the day.
‘You were so indifferent to me for such a long time …’
‘You seemed indifferent too, Mary, talking about Italy being a fresh start for you, on your own. I honestly didn’t think you wanted a relationship.’
‘You were unfriendly. Resentful – you said it yourself – believing your family had hired me as some sort of nurse. All this push and pull, it’s left me exhausted and … and scared emotionally.’
He took her hand. ‘Oh, Mary – above everything else I was protecting myself. As I’ve told you, I sensed an attraction straight away from the Skype interview. Then you arrived with your clumsiness and adorable mistakes in Italian – with your kind nature and warm, easy-going way with the customers and Lucia … it all touched my heart but I was afraid to fall in love after everything that’s happened during the last couple of years. Yet I looked forward to getting up each morning just to hear your voice – to hear you tease me and treat me like a capable equal, not someone who is handicapped. However, despite all of that, I also had the problem that I felt I needed to protect you from me.’
‘From you? One of the most brave, loyal, sensitive people I know? Although it took me a while to look past that frosty exterior …’
They both smiled.
‘But I don’t understand …’ she said. ‘What’s changed?’
He took a deep breath. ‘I’ve been thinking everything over, since we visited Mamma’s grave. Since you told us about your mum. I’ve gone over those last months of her life. She used anything as an excuse to drink. A birthday party. Good business. Bad weather. An argument with the tax man. Good and bad. There was always a reason – until she reached the stage where she just drank all the time.
‘I’m beginning to think you are right. If I hadn’t suffered that accident, she would have probably found something else to drink on. So …’ his voice broke ‘… for the first time in twelve months I am considering that maybe … just maybe women don’t need protecting from me. That I don’t damage them after all. That I didn’t kill my mum.’
So, what Mary had suspected was true.
‘It’s such a relief. I’m still devastated at losing Mamma but … all the guilt. It’s been a heavy burden, on top of Hugo dying and Alessia leaving me … I guess I’ve been wallowing in those feelings.’ He gave a small smile. ‘The king of the pity party.’
‘We all party like that sometimes,’ she said softly. ‘The key is to know when to stop.’
‘Sorry, for being a jerk the other day. What I said. About you trying to replace the family you never had with ours. It was unkind. My head wasn’t straight.’ He smiled. ‘You are one hard woman to resist and I’ve never been good at fighting my feelings.’
‘To be honest, at the beginning, you were probably right. Finally I did get a sense of belonging and I wanted to hold on tight. But something inside me has grown, since living in Italy. A real sense of identity. It’s come on without me really realising.’ Mary thought about her crystals and realised she didn’t rely on them so much any more. She relied on herself. ‘And I don’t feel I need anyone else – or any other group of people – to make me happy, now. I can find a flat. I love my job. It would be greedy to ask for anything more. And living with you all has made me realise that … that the fantasy of a perfect family, with no problems or sadness … really only exists in films and books.’
‘You mean the Rossi family isn’t perfect?’ He grinned.
‘No. It is just like every other family. Fabulous and flawed.’
‘So where does that leave us?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said shyly.
‘Well, I do.’ He leant forward and slipped his solid arms around her. Their lips met. How she’d ached for that touch that felt headier than the finest Cristal champagne. As his mouth pressed against hers, Mary’s heart raced faster than a machine gun, spurts of pleasure firing throughout her body and into places she’d never known had existed with previous boyfriends. The barman clunked glasses together. The pulled apart and Mary looked over at him. He gave them a glare.
She giggled. ‘The barman isn’t impressed. I feel like a teenager. Come on. Let’s get back.’
They strolled towards the underground, hand in hand. Hand in hand. A small act that really did mean so much. When Mary was younger, and fostered, it really only happened as a safeguarding measure, when crossing a road. Not as a gesture of true love. She interlocked her fingers tightly with his and as they sat down in a train, leant her head against his shoulder. Jake would have said she was too soppy. She’d thought he was right. But with Dante, nothing seemed too sentimental.
‘What?’ he said. ‘You are smiling?’
‘How could you tell that?’
‘Your cheeks plumped up against my body.’
‘What a romantic thing to say! I’m not a hamster, you know.’
‘You are happy?’ he said.
‘Very.’
‘Let me make you even happier later on,’ he said huskily.
When they left the underground neither could get back to Pizzeria Dolce Vita quick enough. Dante locked up whilst Mary headed up to her room. As she put down her handbag and slipped off her shoes, she caught sight of herself in the mirror, lit up by the street lamp. Audrey Hepburn? No. Just plain old Mary Smith. But that felt really okay – in fact, it felt great.
A knock sounded and, catching her breath, she opened the door. Dante closed it behind him. He turned back and smiled before taking her hand and leading her confidently to the bed. He put his protection on the bedside table. She unbuttoned his shirt and impatiently pulled him down, onto the mattress. He slipped a hand under her blouse. A groan escaped her lips, and they kissed more frantically after they both stripped and Dante pressed against her, skin upon skin.
Mary had left the lights off, wanting her experience to be similar to his. Dante trailed kisses down her body, both of them naked, both urgently touching. His strong hands read her body, those slim hips, her soft breasts. What a tortuous process as it heightened her pleasure. She could sense his longing to picture every line and curve. A feeling of impatience, she didn’t quite understand, resonated from her core, as if someone had dropped a pebble in her pelvis and like with water, tremors of ecstasy rippled outwards.
Dante reached for the bedside table. ‘You are so bella,’ he murmured. ‘Dear Mary …’
How did he manage to make her English name sound like the sexiest word in the English language?
‘Hurry,’ she whispered urgently and tried to catch her breath. ‘I need you. Now.’
Dante moaned with pleasure as he entered her. Simultaneously those tremors, in her pelvis, increased to an unbearable rate. Don’t stop, don’t stop, Mary prayed as a primeval urge to be satisfied took over her mind and body. All thoughts, all reservations, had disappeared and left her with just one focus. Her pulse raced, her chest heaved, and flickers of light danced before her eyes. What was happening?
Was that her? Making that noise? It was as if she was separate, lost in an oasis of deep, satisfying pleasure, falling, still falling into the darkest, most sensuous place, her mind emptied of thoughts save the closeness of this strong, powerful man. Her toes flexed and her body squirmed with sensations she’d never experienced before. A tear trickled down her face as the tremors slowly, deliciously dissipated to tease her, in the background.
A floating feeling replaced them. Mary never wanted this moment to end. For the first time in her life she’d been taken to that … special place. For the first time she felt … completely valued. Serene. Complete.
‘You okay?’ he said, moments later, breath raspy as he lay by her side, her fingers interlocked with his.
Barely able to speak, she nodded.
‘Are you nodding?’
‘Yes. I’m okay. I’m good. Great.’ She looked at him sideways. ‘And you?’
‘You smell exquisite,’ he murmured and turned his head away.
‘What’s the matter?’ she whispered.
Eventually he turned back to meet her gaze. She propped herself up on one arm and studied the lines on his brow and the drooping corners of that delectable mouth.
‘I wish, really wish, I could see you, just for a few seconds.’
Her eyes pricked. This was the first time Dante had ever complained about his condition. Oh he got cross, sometimes, about people patronising him, but didn’t moan about his actual blindness. He’d let his mask slip in front of her and she felt privileged.
‘What do you miss seeing most?’ she asked, softly.
‘Colours. Sometimes I get shades of red but it is mostly black and brown. Orange if I’m facing sunlight. Green used to be my favourite colour. And I miss reading – reading emails, books, posters, signs. And then people’s expressions.’ He bit his bottom lip. ‘Alfonso has a killer look he used to give me growing up, if I’d done something wrong. I’d do anything to catch a glimpse of that now.’
‘I can’t imagine how hard it must be,’ Mary said. ‘But, just let me say, you’ve seen far more of me than any other man.’
‘How so?’
‘You’ve seen into my soul. I’ve shared things with you that no other person – not even Jill – has witnessed. You’ve seen the real me.’
He moved towards her and kissed her tenderly on the lips. ‘I’ve also seen your kindness. Your sense of humour. Your resilience.’
She snuggled up close. ‘And I don’t need my eyes open to see that you’re my hero, Dante. I don’t mean like heroes out of an old movie, where the man rides in and saves the damsel in distress. Heroes like that have never existed in real life. You’ve expected yourself to be some sort of protector, but that’s just not possible; people have to look after themselves. Hugo, Alessia, your mum – you haven’t been responsible for the paths their lives took.
‘No, what I mean is, you’re my hero, in this modern day, where … where hopefully I, the heroine, can help you as well. Together we make a good pair. I reckon we’re both pretty strong. And we can save each other from the worst part of ourselves. Heroes and heroines must work together. That way they can take on the world.’
‘So, I’m no Prince Charming?’ he said and faked indignation.
She giggled. ‘You’re a lot of things, but not that. And I’m no Audrey Hepburn.’
I’m just plain Mary Smith, she thought and a smile spread across her face.