Struggling to calm her rising heart rate, Sofia straightened the neat lines of praline truffles and hazelnut noisettes for the millionth time. He was almost late. The day had only just begun and Roberto was already annoying her. She was annoying herself for goodness sake. Anxiously waiting for a man to show up was pathetic.
At least in the reassuring comfort of Bonaparte’s new boutique she could just be herself. Without the distraction of aching stilettos and chocolate-smeared abs. No costumes or cameras, it was time to talk business without the innuendo.
She closed the cabinet drawer and rested her hands on the glass countertop. Deep breaths, her therapist had advised soothingly whenever Sofia thought she might lose it. Take a moment and breathe, recalibrate. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes. A golden flash through the blackness. Her body pulsed remembering Roberto’s naked torso thrust against hers, his fingers squeezing her bare thigh, the electrifying brush of his stubbled jaw on her neck...
Her eyes flicked open at the shrill tingle of the bell on the shop door as it opened. Deep breath.
‘Buongiorno, amore.’
Sofia had hoped the addition of clothes would quell Roberto’s hotness. But as he strode confidently into her precious space he looked like he’d come from an Italian Vogue fashion shoot. Understated Ray-Bans, designer stubble and a glorious Mediterranean tan. His tousled hair combed back with just the right amount of nonchalance.
His immaculate navy tailored suit fitted like a glove to his well-honed body that Sofia already knew in intimate detail. He looked refined, expensive and much to her annoyance, right at home in the luxurious environs of Bonaparte’s.
‘We’re alone here Roberto, enough with the amores.’
‘Good to practise though, no?’ He whisked off his sunglasses with one hand, his eyes brushing over her. ‘You look beautiful this morning Sofia.’
She straightened at the unexpected compliment. Was he being sarcastic? She’d happily abandoned yesterday’s sexy get-up in favour of a simple black t-shirt and jeans. Her armour of make-up replaced with a smear of nude lip gloss. Though she hadn’t brushed out her blow wave; she rather enjoyed the sexy feel of voluminous waves after years of limp nothingness.
She cleared her throat. ‘I’m glad to be back in my own clothes.’
‘Me too. Though I think I still have gold leaf stuck in some hard to reach places.’
Sofia snapped her attention back down to the cabinet, pretending to secure it closed as prickling heat wound up her neck.
‘I like what you’ve done with the place.’ Roberto strolled to the large hexagonal display case in the centre of the room thankfully ignoring her obvious awkwardness. ‘Bellissimi.’ He leant over a suite of gianduja mousse truffles.
Sofia shook off her unease, bristling as she slowly walked around the side counter towards Roberto, like a mother approaching a wild animal salivating over her precious young.
Anosmia had stolen Sofia’s interest in food but chocolate was the exception. She’d swapped an indulgent diet for a bland menu of nutritious meals prescribed by her therapist. A seemingly endless cycle of green smoothies and herbal teas; nutritious and quick to consume with no time to dwell on the flavours she missed. But she could never abandon chocolate, it was in her blood, her soul. And it defined her relationship with her mother and sister.
Sofia hovered beside Roberto as he ogled her treasured creations. Why the hell did she invite him here, behind enemy lines? He may look the part but he didn’t belong in Bonaparte’s. She and her sister had worked so hard to redeem their mother’s reputation in Italy after the damage his father had caused.
Their company was a tribute to their mother, a celebration of her life’s work and a continuation of her dream. Sofia had no doubt Roberto was just like his father and having him, Conti Creation’s head honcho, in this special place was like sacrilege.
‘You must be proud Sofia, these truffles look exquisite.’ He stood upright, his dark eyes homing in on her. ‘How do they taste?’
‘Like the best chocolate you’ve ever had.’ She met his eyes, like a woman with nothing to hide. Annabella had warned her Roberto knew about her anosmia and her participation in the medical trial last year. For the sake of their business, the sisters pretended Sofia had been cured. If Roberto suspected she hadn’t been he’d be sure to use it against her.
‘I heard you’d recovered from your condition. I’m glad.’
‘I couldn’t do what I do otherwise.’
Countless recipes were so ingrained in Sofia’s psyche she could recreate any chocolate from her past; she didn’t need to taste them to know they were sublime. But the thought of never creating anything new again festered in the corners of her mind, threatening to plunge her back into the depths of despair.
‘Brava. A talented master chocolatier and a beautiful boutique.’ Roberto relieved her of his inquisitive stare as his eyes swept around the finessed interior.
Sofia’s spine lengthened as she followed his appreciative gaze. Like their boutique in Melbourne, she and Annabella had chosen an Art Deco inspired fit-out to showcase their collection. The sumptuous décor of dark timber panelling, customised glass cabinets and oversized teardrop chandelier echoed the luxurious richness of each tempting confection waiting to be devoured.
‘Your cioccolato looks like... beautiful gems in a designer store. Impossible to resist, no?’
‘That’s the idea. Bonaparte’s isn’t a place for a quick sugar fix.’
‘No. Here you recline.’ Roberto glanced over at the burgundy velvet chaise longue by the draped window. ‘You relish each bite and enjoy a moment in heaven, yes?’ His intense gaze rested on her again, his splayed fingers on the display case almost touching hers.
The thought of Roberto’s caress should sicken Sofia but instead he ignited a dormant desire buried within her that refused to abate.
‘Until life drags you back to the real world.’ She crossed her arms.
‘Si. The exotic flavours will fade but the memory of the brief encounter will remain long after.’ His eyes scanned her face, lingering too long on her lips.
Why not enjoy ourselves? he’d taunted yesterday.
Sofia wasn’t opposed to no-strings sex, emotional detachment had become her forte. But Roberto was her kryptonite. A tsunami of shame would immediately follow any kind of tryst with him. Just entertaining the idea rattled her with guilt.
‘I think we need to establish some boundaries.’ She grounded herself, hands on hips.
‘All’s going well so far. The producers were thrilled with Fabrizio’s photos. Bonaparte’s international debut is sure to be a success after our publicity campaign.’
Sofia never would have agreed to their deal otherwise. ‘Despite your efforts, right?’
‘What do you mean amore?’ Roberto cocked his head slightly.
Arsehole. He knew exactly what she meant.
‘Please, your despicable behaviour last year was typical Conti MO.’ She leant in, close enough to make out a myriad of fine lines etched around each of his eyes, liberated from the make-up of yesterday’s photo shoot. A little imperfection after all.
Character lines her mother would have called them. But, even though he was probably ten years older than Sofia, maybe too many for someone his age. Had he laughed too much? Or cried? They definitely weren’t laughing eyes now.
Sofia wouldn’t break eye contact, this was her territory and he wouldn’t intimidate her here. ‘And I told you not to call me that.’
‘Calma Sofia. There was a lot of miscommunication with your sister.’ Roberto waved his hand dismissively.
‘You didn’t try to blackmail her to leave the country just like your father did to our mother?’ Sofia struggled to control her breathing as her temper flared, remembering her dying mother telling her of Umberto Conti’s betrayal that shattered her heart and her career, forcing her to flee Italy.
‘Sofia—’
‘I know all about it Roberto. You gave photos of you and Annabella to the paparazzi to make it look like she was making a deal with Conti and betraying Alessandro and his company. You thought it would end their relationship thereby destroying your main competitor.’
‘It was much more complicated than that.’ He edged closer, Sofia shivered as his warm breath brushed across her cheek.
‘But in a nutshell, that’s how it went down. Right?’ A swell of anger burnt her throat, quashing any urge to back away. She paused, giving him the chance to speak but he just sighed and raised his palms upwards in an insouciant shrug. ‘And it backfired, big time,’ she spat.
‘It’s true, I have some work to do to clean up the mess your sister made.’
‘Your mess, Roberto. That’s why we’re here. You need me to make you look good.’
‘Let’s not forget, you need me just as badly... amore.’
Sofia swallowed, the veracity of his infuriating words sinking to her stomach. She and her sister had planned the opening of their first international boutique to coincide with the publicity for Florence’s famous Valentine’s festival. Annabella and Alessandro would have time to visit Australia before returning to star in the promo campaign. Everything had been meticulously planned to the last detail. Until the call from the hospital.
The fear in Annabella’s tear soaked voice had awakened memories Sofia longed to forget. She’d have agreed to anything to save her sister from the trauma that haunted her. So when the festival producers demanded Sofia feign love with Roberto Conti of all people, she’d agreed to dance with the devil.
‘You’re right, it’s out of my control and I’ve gotta make the best of this bizarre situation. But I’ll never forgive you or your family for what you’ve done to mine.’
‘I’m not asking for your forgiveness, just your cooperation.’
‘I think I proved my commitment to our deal yesterday, don’t you?’
‘Certo. But now we must get to know each other so we can play a convincing couple at the festival.’
‘About that, I don’t think we need to touch, speak or even see each other when there’s no one around to witness it.’
‘I disagree. The photo shoot went well but it’ll be much harder surrounded by a sceptical public. Not to mention the media studying our every move.’
‘I know all I need to know about you, I’m not interested in learning any more.’
‘I’m not as bad as you think, Sofia. And how will it look when the love of my life shudders at my very touch?’ He brushed a finger against her forearm. ‘Or my kiss?’
He reached for Sofia’s hand and pressed his lips gently to her skin making her tingle for all the wrong reasons.
‘What are you doing?’ She whipped her hand from his grasp and stepped back.
‘You need to learn to control yourself around me. When I touch you, you need to look like you’re enjoying it.’
‘When the time comes I’ll play the doting girlfriend. I proved yesterday your touch isn’t so earthshattering.’ She sniffed, hoping her words sounded convincing. ‘Until then I don’t want to see you.’
She offered a curt smile and turned, pretending to inspect the chocolate display as she paced to the safety of the other side of the large cabinet. Roberto’s insistent closeness threatened to unravel her composure; her pulse raced when all he’d done was kiss her hand.
‘That’s not going to work. What about the chocolate, we must discuss that, no?’
‘What chocolate?’
‘For the gala evening.’
Sofia recoiled, confiding in Roberto about her mother’s recipe was the equivalent of ripping open her heart and baring her soul. ‘That has nothing to do with you.’
‘We’ll be attending the gala as a couple. Of course I must know what we’ll both be serving.’
‘All you need to know is I’ll hold up my end of the bargain. As your pretend girlfriend not your colleague. Annabella and I have perfected our Valentine’s recipe, I’ll be damned if I discuss any of it with a Conti. Nothing is beneath your family, I shudder to think what level you would sink to.’
‘I’m here with you, aren’t I?’ Roberto’s eyes suddenly flared with fire. ‘I think that’s as low as I can get.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Do you think this is what I want? Your sister destroyed my reputation, disrespected me and my family on national television. I had to rebuild my company, placate our shareholders. And in my mother’s eyes? Declaring to the world I’m madly in love with you, the daughter of the woman who seduced her husband, is as low as I can get.’
Roberto’s chest heaved as he stared at Sofia, his fierce words shooting across the divide of the vast cabinet straight to her heart. The mention of his mother, an innocent victim in the history of their families, caught her off guard. A flash of empathy unsettled her; she sensed Lucia was the chink in Roberto’s armour. Just as her mother was to her.
‘We can agree not to like each other Sofia,’ he said calmly. ‘But for the next few weeks we need each other.’
‘No recipes. That wasn’t part of the deal.’
‘Okay. But we need to spend time together, learn to be comfortable around each other if we have any hope of pulling this off.’
‘Fine.’ She stuffed her hands in her pockets as she reluctantly surrendered to the inevitable. ‘I’m out of town tomorrow for the night, we can meet when I get back.’
‘There’s not enough time, you’ll have to change your plans.’
‘No, I’m not going to change my plans.’ The cheek of the man. ‘I need to collect an ingredient for my Valentine’s recipe.’
‘You can’t get what you need in Florence?’
‘No. I have to go to Baraldo.’ A look of surprise flashed across Roberto’s face, so brief Sofia thought she might have imagined it.
‘Baraldo?’
‘It’s a small town near San Remo. I won’t be gone long.’
‘That’s hours away. I’ll send someone to get it.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Sofia scoffed. ‘It’s more secure if I pick it up myself.’ She wouldn’t trust the priceless floral concentrate in anyone’s hands, certainly not anyone associated with the Conti family. Umberto Conti had shamelessly used her mother for her recipes then abandoned her when she needed him most.
‘I’m intrigued, what is this elusive ingredient?’
‘None of your business,’ she said firmly.
Sofia’s mother had experimented with the unique ornella concentrate when she’d lived in Baraldo. Soon after she’d left the hamlet town she’d rationed her precious supply, using it only in her chocolate for her young daughters. Sofia had almost wept when she’d discovered the rare nectar had been harvested again. Finally she’d be able to recreate one of her mother’s most treasured recipes, the cioccolatino fiori.
‘Very well, but I’m coming with you,’ Roberto said with the confidence of someone unaccustomed to hearing no for an answer.
‘I don’t think so. I don’t want to be surrounded by a media circus.’
‘Media circus? No one even knows we’re a couple yet.’
‘Just being seen with you will alert the paparazzi.’
‘Then I’ll pick you up on the way out of town where it’s not so busy... near Ponte a Varlungo, you know the bridge?’
‘Yes, but—’ She scrambled for an excuse.
‘Brava. I’ll meet you there. We’ll... what’s that saying? Fly under the radar, yes?’
He glanced at his expensive watch and whipped his sunglasses out of his top pocket. A man like Roberto was incapable of flying under the radar. In the sleepy township of Baraldo he’d look like a shiny urban god among the country mortals.
‘I’ll see you in the morning, say nine o’clock... amore.’ He winked at her before shielding his eyes with his glasses and turning to the door.
‘Roberto?’ Sofia shot out her hand, flailing to regain some control over the situation.
‘Si?’ He half turned back to her, the morning sunlight streamed through the doorway, casting a shadow over his perfectly sculpted jawline.
‘Try to look a little less... conspicuous.’ The inflection of her tone sounded more uneasy than assertive as she dropped her hand back to her side.
‘Relax.’ Roberto smiled, his shining white teeth conveying as much reassurance as a used-car salesman. ‘I can do inconspicuous. Ciao bella.’ Without glancing back he strode through the door out onto the narrow cobbled street.
He was so infuriatingly sure of himself. He’d probably never questioned an action in his life. Even when things didn’t go his way, Roberto Conti was the type of man who always landed on his designer clad feet.
* * *
Roberto glanced in his rear-view mirror and scanned the morning passeggiata alongside the Arno River. Shopkeepers were setting up alfresco tables and chairs on the sun-dappled pavement. Groups of optimistic tourists wore t-shirts and licked gelati denying the crisp chill in the air, as though the late winter sunshine had already turned to spring. A hive of morning activity but no sign of Sofia.
Baraldo. Her mention of the small mountain town had been like music to his ears.
Roberto smoothed his hand over the worn leather cover of the black journal in his lap. After he’d left Bonaparte’s he’d frantically searched the Conti estate for the little book he’d packed away as a child, unsure of what he’d do if he found it. But once it was in his hands, like a conduit to the past, Roberto knew exactly what was required of him.
He flipped through its contents, the scratchy writing and sketches a blur of possibilities. A strange mix of loss and excitement swelled in his stomach as he studied the pages just as he’d done countless times as a boy.
Bellissima. His father would have whispered in awe if he were here now. In his eyes a flicker of pride that would be enough for Roberto to justify anything.
He’d lied to Sofia yesterday when he’d told her he’d sunk to his lowest level. That moment was yet to come. But any trace of doubt evaporated as he studied the journal, imagining his father’s admiring voice, fuelling his resolve.
Roberto looked up in the mirror again. A flash of red behind a school group excursion caught his attention. A bright vermillion scarf, a brilliant contrast to Sofia’s long dark hair, floated over her head and around her neck in the breeze as she navigated her way around the children and strode purposefully towards Roberto’s black SUV.
He quickly leant down and slid the journal under the driver’s seat and got out of the car. He waved to Sofia as he waited for her by the passenger door.
Several men admired her as she hurried past the shop fronts. Casually dressed in a black sweater, dark-denim jeans and ballet flats, she looked just as alluring as she had at the photo shoot. She didn’t need high heels to give her hips a seductive sway as she walked.
After their meeting at Bonaparte’s Roberto couldn’t deny his attraction to Sofia was more than skin-deep. Her fiery spirit and confidence to stand up to him was such an unexpected turn on.
He’d dated countless attractive women but none had ever challenged him. That’s why he’d chosen them; attention seeking C-grade celebrities hungry for the fame that being with him would provide. His ‘relationships’ were easy, mutually satisfying affairs, over before any expectations had a chance to flourish. Roberto had no right to desire anything more.
Sofia quickened her pace when she saw him. Her large black sunglasses concealed her expression but the tight line of her lips told him she wasn’t happy.
‘Buongiorno, amore.’ Roberto smiled optimistically as he opened the car door for her. ‘A beautiful morning, no?’
‘What’s wrong with you? Get in the car.’ Sofia quickly looked up and down the street before climbing into the cream leather seat, pulling the door behind her.
A shot of desire coursed through Roberto at her abrupt chastisement. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman ordered him what to do. But from Sofia’s hot lips he’d welcome another reprimand.
‘Bad night sleep?’ Roberto slid into the driver’s seat and closed his door.
‘I told you. I don’t want anyone to see us together. Not even for a moment.’
‘Relax, no one saw us. Besides you’re in disguise.’ He playfully tugged her scarf.
‘Funny.’ She brushed his hand away and took off her glasses. ‘It’s not me people are going to recognise. It’s you. And this Porsche is hardly subtle.’
‘Would you prefer I’d brought the red Ferrari?’ His taunt was met with a stern glare. ‘You said we’re going Baraldo, no? We’ll need four wheel drive up the mountain.’
‘I’m guessing this car’s never seen a dirt road.’
‘You’d be surprised. My chauffeur takes it out regularly.’ Roberto grinned, enjoying getting a rise out of her.
Sofia rolled her eyes and buckled her seatbelt. ‘Let’s go.’ She slumped back and stared out the tinted window.
‘You okay?’ Roberto pulled out into the busy traffic along the promenade.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Come on, Sofia, we’ve got a long drive ahead. Talk to me.’
She sighed and turned her head half-heartedly towards him. ‘Going to Baraldo with you wasn’t the plan.’
‘Si. But we have to spend time together, polish our performance. What’s wrong with that?’
‘It’s personal. And we’re... not.’ She shifted in her seat. ‘My mother lived in Baraldo, she was happy there and I don’t want to tarnish another part of her memory with Conti propaganda.’ She rolled her head away from Roberto back towards the passenger window.
His knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. His family wasn’t entirely innocent but they weren’t to blame for her mother’s downfall. But now was not the time for confrontation and what Sofia thought of him didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.
‘At least tell me what we’re picking up.’ Roberto thought of the journal tucked under his seat. Did Sofia hold the key to unlock Conti’s next chocolate masterpiece? He vowed to find out, knowing not only would he redeem his reputation with Sofia by his side, he may also get the chance to regain Conti’s rightful place as Italy’s premier cioccolateria.
‘There is no we Roberto.’ She whipped her head around to glower at him. ‘You’re not picking up anything. We’ll go up the mountain, you’ll wait in the car and we’ll come down again, okay?’
Hot blood spiralled through Roberto as he suddenly swerved the car. Infuriated drivers beeped their horns as he cut through the traffic.
‘What the hell?’ Sofia’s hands shot to the sides of her seat, her fingers clenched into the soft leather as he swung into the curb.
Roberto winced at the hint of fear in her voice. He knew she’d been in a serious car accident a few years ago. Her stellar career put on hold while she’d recovered. She’d overcome her anosmia but he suspected her emotional scars ran deep. He made a mental note to drive more carefully from now on.
‘I’m sorry about that.’ Roberto inhaled deeply regaining control over his rising blood pressure. ‘But there’s only so far you can push me until I push back.’
‘Is that a threat?’ Sofia’s eyes widened in disbelief.
‘No, just a warning. If we don’t work together, neither of us will get what we want. A little less attitude okay?’
Sofia breathed heavily and held his gaze, clearly fighting the urge to get out of the car, slam the door and be rid of him. Roberto was familiar with that scenario from previous relationships. Thankfully she nodded reluctantly and sank back into her seat.
‘Fine,’ she said through gritted teeth.
* * *
Sofia tilted her head back and filled her lungs with the clean mountain air. She exhaled slowly, her vision a pink haze as the faint afternoon sunlight danced across her closed eyelids. Her skin hungrily absorbed its comforting warmth and for the first time in a long while a sense of calm washed over her.
She opened her eyes and looked at the small vial of dark amber concentrate in her hand. Like liquid gold. A frenetic combination of excitement, anticipation and fear whirled within her. When she’d heard the rare ingredient was available again, she’d convinced Annabella to focus solely on perfecting their mother’s cioccolatino fiori for the Valentine’s festival. It was a risk. They hadn’t used the potent ingredient before and if the test recipe failed they’d have nothing new to showcase. But if it was a success the payoff was priceless.
The unusual flavour of the ornella nectar was embedded in the recesses of Sofia’s memory. Subtle hints of vanilla with citrus overtones underscored by a spicy note. Use too much and its bitter aftertaste would taint the palate. Too little and its delicate, complex piquancy would be wasted. But the right amount could position Bonaparte’s cioccolatino fiori as an international icon. Like a Ferrero Rocher, a Baci kiss or a Lindor ball, it would be known the world over.
But more than that, gleaming in its little glass bottle, the concentrate looked like a magic potion. Sofia dared to hope it might be a miracle worker and awaken her deadened senses. Her mother’s ornella infused chocolate had the power to unlock countless precious moments from her childhood, sparking memories that might otherwise be forgotten.
As the sting of tears threatened, she carefully slipped the vial back into its protective pouch and zipped it into the lining of her handbag. She wound her scarf around her neck against the cool breeze that promised a cold night ahead and made her way down the gravel road, looking forward to the warm interior of Roberto’s heated car.
Thankfully he’d agreed to wait for her while she’d visited the private Villa Castello property, the sole harvester of the ornella wildflowers. But as Sofia got closer to the Porsche she realised Roberto wasn’t in it. She grabbed a note from under the windscreen wiper: Amore, meet me at the bar across the road, R xox. She could hear his smooth voice in his written words teasing her with his fake affection.
Sofia looked over at the understated bar, laughter from inside echoed into the quiet street. She quickly paced across the uneven stones, it would be dark soon and she was keen to get going.
As she approached the bar, she saw Roberto through the shop front window. He was perched on a stool, apparently right at home among a group of locals. He was gesturing with his hands as though telling an amusing anecdote, his enthralled audience listening with a ready laugh.
Sofia had imagined Roberto alone, tucked in a corner. Espresso in one hand, his cell phone in the other. Not the life of the party, downing grappa with the country folk. Realising she was smiling at the unexpected tableau she quickly adjusted her expression back to mild annoyance as she pushed open the shop door.
‘Ah, Sofia.’ Roberto looked over from his fan club and smiled at her as she entered the cosy bar, the door swinging closed behind her. ‘Have a seat.’ He dragged a stool alongside his.
Sofia politely nodded hello to the small crowd but remained standing by the door.
‘I think we better get going,’ she said quietly hoping to convey her irritation to Roberto through her hard stare and subtle raising of eyebrows. He was meant to be keeping a low profile, not living it up with the locals.
‘Bad news I’m afraid,’ he said without moving. ‘Alfredo here tells me there’s been a landslide across the road down the mountain. No one’s going anywhere tonight.’ He shrugged, seemingly unperturbed.
‘A what?’ Sofia glanced at the weathered old man sitting beside Roberto. He had a full girth and a kind face with warm, watery blue eyes. Next to Roberto, he was a stark contrast of down to earth substance versus slick urban vanity. If any one could be trusted here she felt she could trust a man like Alfredo. But he said nothing. Sofia flicked her eyes back to Roberto.
‘Apparently a large tree fell across the road followed by a small... ah what do you call? Avalanche?’
Sofia blinked at his nonchalance. ‘An avalanche? That sounds serious.’
‘A small avalanche. No one was hurt amo–’
Her glare stopped him from uttering the pet name. Had he forgotten their deal? What was going on here? It was like she’d stepped into a parallel universe. Only moments ago she’d been soaking in sunshine, her hopes reignited by the golden panacea nestled in her handbag. Everything was looking up.
Now a strong wind shook the windowpanes as darkness descended and she was apparently trapped up the mountain. With Roberto.
Sofia scanned the crowd along the bar: next to Alfredo an elderly couple enjoyed an aperitif; two middle-aged men in farming gear nursed small tumblers of red wine; and a young woman wrangled a toddler as he tried to face-plunge into his hot chocolate.
Each friendly face nodded at her as if to say Yes, there has indeed been an avalanche and you’re not going anywhere. Isn’t it wonderful?
Sofia slowly walked to the stool and perched between Roberto and his new friend Alfredo.
Her Italian was embarrassingly limited. ‘Parla Inglese?’ She looked around hopefully but was met with the regretful shaking of heads.
‘How about a drink? Hot chocolate?’ Roberto gestured to the machine on the counter churning the smooth, lusciously thick traditional Italian treat.
Sofia used to love the decadent confection, so satisfying on the taste buds she’d momentarily forget the horrifying number of calories in just one cup. Many of her teenage kilos had been a result of her mother’s hot chocolate in the wintertime.
The silver lining of her anosmia, more effective than any diet: why bother if you can’t taste it? Besides, hot chocolate was really a tourist drink and she needed the comradery Roberto had so easily attained to hopefully get some answers from her expectant audience.
‘Grappa, per favore,’ she said to the young woman behind the counter. A hopeful attempt to impress the locals by drinking their homemade specialty.
‘Prego.’ The pretty woman’s face lit up, apparently pleased with Sofia’s choice. She reached for a large flagon, poured a generous shot of the clear liquid and gently pushed the small glass across the bar to Sofia.
Silence descended as though a spotlight had flicked on with Sofia centre stage as she lifted the full glass to her lips. The potency of homemade grappa could make the toughest of eyes water. But without a sense of smell or taste, Sofia didn’t flinch as her audience might have expected. Quite the party trick.
‘Salute.’ She raised the glass briefly before downing the shot in one; the scorching burn in her throat as she swallowed warned her not to have another. She’d always been a cheap drunk.
Everyone in the bar clapped as she daintily placed the glass back on the counter as though the fiery liquor was of no consequence at all.
‘Brava, Sofia brava,’ Roberto laughed as he joined in the applause, his shining eyes capturing hers.
‘Grazie.’ Sofia couldn’t help smiling back. ‘It’s a talent,’ she said wryly but then quickly looked away, confused by her response. Roberto’s expression of... what, admiration? … sent a flutter of happiness to her head. Something she’d thought he’d be incapable of doing. But it was a freak moment. He couldn’t be trusted. Ever.
She looked at Alfredo hopefully, his friendly eyes welcoming her conversation.
‘Alfredo. Sono Sofia.’ She held out her hand.
‘Piacere.’ He took her hand and leant forward to kiss her once on each cheek before resting back onto his stool.
‘La strada?’ She pointed to the road outside.
‘Si?’
‘Un grande... albero?’ A big tree?
‘Si.’ He nodded.
‘E una...’ Sofia paused as she quickly dug her mini-Italian dictionary out of her handbag and flipped through its pages. ‘Una valanga?’ She rolled her hands around forcefully illustrating the motion of an avalanche.
‘Si, si,’ Alfredo said without question. Sofia glanced at the rest of the bar’s patrons and was met with more enthusiastic nodding.
‘Sofia, why would I make that up?’ Roberto asked bemusedly. ‘Don’t you think I’d prefer to be back in the comfort of The Grand Hotel in San Remo?’
What did he have to gain by staying here? She’d already agreed to spend time with him before the festival to ‘get to know each other’. And the locals at the Baraldo bar who were smiling at her so warmly, why would they lie to her?
‘Okay. So if we’re not staying at The Grand tonight, where are we going to stay?’
‘There are some medieval buildings that have been restored up the hill.’
‘Medieval? Sounds rustic. And kind of creepy.’
‘They are... rudimentary, yes, but you don’t have to worry. I’ll be with you.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Bianca tells me.’ Roberto flashed his dazzling teeth at the woman behind the bar. She smiled back, a pink hue colouring her complexion. ‘There’s an artist retreat on at the moment and there’s only one available room left.’
‘Of course there is,’ Sofia scoffed, shaking her head. ‘Stranded on a mountain, only one bedroom left in a crumbling medieval hotel. You’ve got to be kidding.’
‘Bianca’s father is the property manager. He’ll be here soon, so you can interrogate him if you don’t believe me. You have your dictionary.’ He gestured teasingly at the small book clutched in her hand.
Sofia looked at Bianca, her round face dimpled with an innocent smile. ‘No.’ Sofia sighed. ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine there.’
‘You mean we.’
‘You can sleep in your car. There’s plenty of room for you to stretch out in the back.’
‘Sofia, it’ll be freezing tonight. We’ll share the room. I’ll even sleep on the floor.’
‘Until the heating mysteriously stops working and we have to share a bed for body warmth, right?’ Heat rushed to her face as the image flashed through her mind and she wished she hadn’t spoken the words.
‘I can only hope.’ Roberto grinned, no doubt amused by her reddened cheeks. ‘A joke Sofia. You’ve got nothing to worry about.’ He stood up. ‘Shall we?’
Like she had any choice, she could hardly spend the night in the bar. Sofia stood, catching her balance on the edge of the counter, unsure if her dizziness was the result of the grappa kicking in or the idea of sharing a hotel room with Roberto Conti for the night.