‘Exactly how much do I owe you for securing the hotel’s kitchen for our personal use?’ Sofia arched an eyebrow at Roberto as she laid out the ingredients for her ganache filling on the gleaming stainless steel counter. She couldn’t believe he’d managed to book the immaculate industrial kitchen for the afternoon.
The pounding anxiety that had consumed her since she’d received the shocking message from Villa Castello had slowly subsided as adrenaline kicked in. For the first time she was letting her anosmia guide her, not hold her back. And in just two hours she’d devised a recipe to replace her cioccolatino fiori, sourced the ingredients and completed the first two elements of her new chocolate.
‘It didn’t cost anything,’ Roberto said matter-of-factly from the opposite side of the bench as he pulled out bowls and equipment for the next stage of her recipe. ‘The owner gave me a freebie.’
‘A freebie?’
‘Did I get it wrong? That’s what you say, no?’
‘Yes but—’
‘I’m the hotel’s best customer Sofia. I get what I ask for.’
‘I bet you do.’
Roberto laughed. ‘Not always, but today, yes. Lucky for you.’
‘I guess I’m not used to freebies. Or good luck.’
‘You deserve it Sofia. You have everything you need here, we’ll perfect some samples and get them to Bonaparte’s by tomorrow, yes?’
‘Yes.’ A sudden burst of fire propelled her back to the task at hand. Sofia looked over the items on the bench in front of her, waiting to be transformed into a winning combination that would blow the mind of the toughest critic.
‘Where’s the couverture?’ Sofia’s pulse quickened as she scanned the kitchen for the main ingredient for her ganache.
‘I thought you’d never ask.’ She flicked her attention to Roberto, his eyes glimmering at her. ‘I have a surprise for you.’
‘I can’t handle any more surprises.’
‘Don’t worry, this one you’ll like.’ He reached under the bench and lifted a large cardboard box onto the countertop. He slit open the top flaps with a knife and carefully unfolded the plastic packaging inside. ‘Try this.’ He offered Sofia a small disc of dark couverture chocolate.
The tension in Sofia’s muscles softened as she admired the intense dark pigment of the chocolate button. She closed her eyes and placed it on her tongue, relishing its velvety creaminess as it gradually melted.
‘What do you think?’
‘I’m getting a faint bittersweet flavour. But the texture, it’s so smooth... it’s incredible.’
‘Si, it’s unlike any other chocolate. It’s made from a rare Peruvian cacao bean. Its flavour is very concentrated compared with other varieties.’
‘It’s so luscious, like liquid silk.’ Sofia rolled her tongue to absorb the last of the chocolate and opened her eyes, fully awakened by the intensity of the rich cacao. ‘It’ll contrast perfectly with the crunch of the praline.’
‘Si,’ Roberto said excitedly as he poured the chocolate buttons into a stainless steel bowl. ‘And its delicate floral accent will complement the toffee nicely.’
‘The texture’s amazing, I can only imagine how complex the flavour is. Where’d you get it?’
‘I made it,’ Roberto said as he busied himself packing away the cardboard box. ‘It’s new so it hasn’t been used by anyone else yet.’
Sofia understood the time, skill and expense involved in creating such an original high-end product. A magical ingredient that could elevate ordinary chocolate to culinary ecstasy.
‘I can’t accept it, it’s too much,’ she said reluctantly. ‘It’s yours Roberto, you should use it.’
‘I don’t need it.’ He pushed the bowl of buttons towards her. ‘I want you to have it Sofia, I want you to create your best work.’
‘So you can compete against the best?’
‘What?’ Confusion flashed across Roberto’s face.
‘Isn’t that what you said in Baraldo? You want me to create my best work so you’ll be satisfied beating the best?’
‘Did I say that?’ He feigned surprise.
‘Yep.’
‘Doesn’t sound like me. A bit arrogant, no?’
‘I thought so,’ she teased.
‘Please accept it.’ Roberto’s smile dissolved as he looked at her seriously. ‘When you explained your recipe to me I knew at once the profile of this couverture would be the perfect match. Now, I can’t imagine using it for anything else. In my mind, it’s already yours.’
‘Are you sure?’ A flicker of excitement shot through Sofia. Roberto’s sublime couverture would give her chocolate a winning dimension she hadn’t anticipated.
‘Absolutely.’ The shining sincerity in his eyes alleviated Sofia’s hesitation.
She nodded acceptance, unable to verbalise her immense gratitude. It was beyond generous for Roberto to give her his custom-made couverture. She picked up the bowl and placed it beside the stove behind her.
She poured cream into a heavy based saucepan, trying to focus on her recipe, not her rolling stomach as she sensed Roberto’s eyes on her back.
Their physical chemistry had been blatant from the moment they’d met. But after Roberto’s thoughtful generosity, she dared to think his feelings for her were more than skin-deep.
‘You can prepare the praline,’ she ordered over her shoulder, eager to occupy his attention with something other than her.
‘Yes chef.’ He reached for the container of salted praline they’d made earlier. ‘What are you using for heat in the filling? Chilli?’
Sofia reached under the counter and flashed a bottle at him. ‘Grappa.’ She couldn’t help grinning.
‘Perfecto,’ Roberto laughed. ‘I better not leave you alone with it.’ He raised his eyebrows, his dark eyes gleaming at her.
‘Very funny.’ Heat rushed up Sofia’s neck and she quickly spun back to the stove. She stirred a shot of the fiery liquor into the warm cream, relieved to be distracted from Roberto’s suggestive stare.
‘I didn’t know you made couverture,’ she said as she picked up the saucepan and slowly poured the grappa-infused cream over the dark chocolate buttons.
‘Si. It’s my specialty. I’ve been experimenting with varieties of cacao beans for years.’
‘You have complete control of every aspect of Conti’s chocolate. Why am I not surprised?’
‘Not complete control. Conti’s recipes are my father’s and after he passed our master chocolatiers took over.’ Roberto focused on breaking chunks of praline into a stone mortar. ‘I just make the couverture. And run the business of course.’
‘How come you don’t write recipes?’ Sofia looked over at him but his attention was absorbed in the praline.
‘My palate is my gift, not my creativity.’ He glanced up at her.
‘I don’t believe that. I could barely taste your couverture but I know it’s unlike anything I’ve tried before. And I’m not just talking about its incredible texture. I feel... awakened by it. I’m still buzzing. Are you sure it’s even legal?’
‘Of course it’s legal,’ Roberto laughed. ‘The beans are very rare. They were only recently discovered from trees that haven’t been touched for hundreds of years. They have a mellow richness that intensifies the euphoric feeling you get even from the most expensive cacao beans.’
‘Wow. How would the rest of Conti feel, knowing you’ve given your couverture to me?’
‘It’s my decision and I want you to have it.’
‘You should make your own recipes. Surely you’ve wanted to?’ Sofia picked up the bowl of emulsified chocolate and cream and stood opposite Roberto at the counter as she stirred the ingredients into a silken ganache. He was so engrossed in pounding the praline he hadn’t seemed to hear her. ‘Roberto?’
‘I did once. Before my brother died.’ He put down the pestle and carefully transferred the toffee crumb from the mortar into a stainless steel bowl. ‘But when my father sent me to Lyon I decided to study cacao and develop my palate.’
‘How old were you?’
‘Fourteen.’ A muscle twitched in Roberto’s jaw as he snapped off more praline into the mortar.
‘That’s pretty young to leave your family.’
‘I can’t complain, I trained at Berouche, one of the best cioccolaterias in Europe.’
‘Not better than Conti.’
‘Conti wasn’t a choice.’
‘Why not?’ Sofia scooped a spoonful of the crushed praline and carefully folded it through the dark chocolate cream, the golden flecks shimmering like treasure.
‘After my mother left, my father was struggling to cope and I... I only caused more trouble.’
‘It must have been hard for you, becoming an only child.’ Sofia continued folding the ganache. ‘Being the one who survived.’ She glanced at him, sensing she was exploring unchartered territory.
Roberto’s eyes flicked to meet hers, his expression coloured with pained surprise.
‘Si,’ he said quietly returning his focus back to the praline. But he sat still, as though frozen in thought.
‘You must have been young when your brother died.’
‘Thirteen.’ Roberto sniffed, snapping out of his daze. He transferred the praline to the bowl. ‘Matteo was five years older. He was my parents’ golden child. But I was never jealous of him, I loved him that way too.’
‘I feel the same about my sister. My mother was always spoiling her, but I adored her just as much.’ Sofia’s heart ached for the young Roberto whose grief she couldn’t begin to fathom; its lasting affects etched into his face. When Sofia had first noticed the fine lines around his eyes she’d had no interest in knowing what had caused them. But now she longed to delve beneath Roberto’s hardened armour and understand the man she was falling for.
‘You said Matteo was a chocolatier too?’ She scooped more praline into the ganache.
‘Si, but his heart wasn’t in it. He wanted to be an artist. My parents had other ideas, they were training him to take over from my father.’
‘Did they know what Matteo wanted?’
‘When he told me his wished to be a professional painter I said not to worry; it was my dream to lead the family company,’ Roberto scoffed as he stared at the pestle, turning it in his hands as though mesmerised by its smooth form. ‘We created a chocolate together to present to our parents thinking they’d be reassured that I had the makings of a Conti successor. We foolishly thought we could both get what we wanted.’
‘Your parents didn’t agree?’
‘Maybe with time, they would have. But it was too late.’
* * *
Roberto put down the pestle and stared at specks of spilt praline on the shining bench, his heart racing as he remembered waiting anxiously outside his father’s kitchen, cradling the chocolate he’d made with Matteo.
Roberto had never confided in anyone about that day. But Sofia recognised the pain that had come to define him, the agony of being the child who’d lived. A constant reminder to his parents of what they’d lost. Knowing Roberto was the cause of their grief had been so painful they’d sent him away.
‘We spent weeks perfecting the chocolate.’ He glanced up, catching Sofia’s eye as she carefully spooned her ganache into a piping bag. ‘Matteo designed a motif for the inlaid decoration. We called the chocolate l’artista, the artist. Perfect for our collaboration, the painter and the chocolatier. I waited by the door while Matteo spoke to our parents first. I couldn’t hear them until my father started shouting. He was so enraged, he said I’d never have what it takes. I was a dreamer.’
‘You were just a boy.’ Sofia’s voice cracked. She put down her piping bag and pushed the bowl of ganache aside, giving him her full attention.
Roberto dropped his gaze, unable to face Sofia’s wide-eyed compassion and confess his guilt; the deep shame he kept hidden, silent and unrelenting. But if she knew something of his past she might understand the choices he’d made … even though he could barely comprehend them himself. He could never be the man Sofia deserved but the thought of her despising him was more than he could bear.
‘I was devastated.’ Roberto picked up a cloth to wipe the bench clean but he just stared at the checked fabric, twisting it in his hands. ‘I ran out into the street, desperate to outrun my father’s words. I could hear Matteo calling after me but I wouldn’t stop, I was so ashamed. Afraid of what my family thought of me. Fear driving me to run faster. And then a car—’ Roberto’s breath caught in his throat; the indescribable, heart wrenching sound of brakes ringing in his ears. A car screeching to a halt allowing just enough time for him to turn and see his brother collide with its windscreen and ricochet onto the asphalt. So effortless and absolute, as easily as a ball rebounding off a wall.
‘I ran to him. It sounds stupid but he looked so peaceful, spread out, like he was sleeping, no? For a moment I thought he was okay. But he wasn’t okay.’
Roberto closed his eyes as he’d done countless times to the image of blood slowly seeping from his brother’s lifeless body. A silent scream exploding in his head, desperate for release. As though his lungs had collapsed, incapable of even a whisper, he’d fallen to his knees and embraced his brother, the deafening scream pounding in his head, haunting him ever since.
‘He was in a coma for two days. I wasn’t allowed in his room but I watched my mother from the doorway curled beside him on the bed, her mouth gaping open but no sound coming out. Silently screaming at the loss of her child. I’d taken him from her.’
‘No Roberto,’ Sofia said urgently, leaning across the bench to clasp his hands in hers, prompting him to look at her. ‘It was an accident.’ Her sympathetic eyes, wet with tears, pleaded him to accept her words.
Roberto squeezed her tender hands and smiled at her weakly, wishing that was possible. ‘It wouldn’t have happened if I’d faced my father instead of running like a coward. I knew that and so did he.’
‘Surely your father didn’t blame you.’
‘He tried not to show it but I’ll never forget the anger in his eyes the day Matteo died, questioning how I could be so reckless.’ After that day his father managed to camouflage his blame but also any other trace of emotion.
‘He was upset.’
‘Si. But I had to accept responsibility. After the accident I vowed to be the perfect son, my parents’ happiness was my only goal. I’ve always done anything for that.’
‘But no recipes?’
‘And remind them of the reason I ran that day and caused Matteo’s death? No. I trained in Lyon to perfect my technique and my palate so I could run the Conti kitchen beside my father and take over as CEO after he died.’
‘And the chocolate you made with Matteo?’
‘It died with him. My father couldn’t cope with his grief. He erased all memories of my brother, packed away his paintings, refused to make his recipes.’
‘And your mother?’
‘She withdrew from our lives and hers. She surrounded herself with Matteo’s paintings at the estate. She preferred to live in the past with his memory than in the present with us.’
‘Then why not make the l’artista for her?’
‘It would awaken the horror of the day Matteo died.’ Roberto was only just rebuilding his relationship with his mother after his debacle with Annabella. Making the l’artista could push her further away.
‘Or maybe it would awaken something else. Your brother’s hope, your shared dreams? A celebration of his life and yours. Remembering rather than fighting to forget. I feel closer to my mother when I’m making her chocolate; it keeps her memory alive. Even with anosmia I could never give that up. Use your recipe, Roberto. You want to free Conti from scandal? Make something with love. For your mother and yourself.’
Roberto stared at Sofia, her soulful eyes glistening at him, believing in him. His body flooded with longing to live up to her expectations. A swell of excitement dared to rise within him at the idea of realising the dream of his thirteen-year-old self, a suppressed desire that still burned deep inside.
But he’d always relied on other people’s recipes. His father’s. Rachel Bonaparte’s. Roberto’s gut clenched that he had taken something so precious from Sofia who now looked at him with such empathy and encouragement.
No one had ever looked at him like that before. An overwhelming need rose within him not to let her down. To give her everything she deserved.
* * *
Sofia chewed on her lower lip as she watched Roberto standing in front of her, slowly running a black silk scarf through his hands. How on earth did she get here? Alone on a luxury penthouse terrace about to be blindfolded by Roberto Conti. With her full consent.
She wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the cool evening breeze. But even the blazing flames in the fire-pit beside them couldn’t calm her shivering skin. And it wasn’t just the prospect of trying her new chocolate for the first time that had Sofia on edge.
‘Ready?’ Roberto perched beside her on the plush outdoor sofa. The warmth of his body penetrated the fine jersey fabric of her wrap dress and her dry mouth suddenly salivated at his closeness. She forced herself to swallow.
‘Not really.’ She stared at the blindfold in his lap, telling herself it was strictly for professional purposes. Though she was sure neither of them actually believed that. ‘What if it’s no good?’
She shifted her attention to the bite-sized chocolate on the glass coffee table in front of her. Its shiny dark domed surface contrasted with a delicate inlaid disc of white Madagascan chocolate embossed with Bonaparte’s cursive B. Visually striking as well as a carefully crafted balancing act of bitter rich cacao and sinfully sweet white chocolate.
‘Trust me.’ Roberto smiled, his luminous eyes reassuring her before he wound the scarf around her head, plunging her into darkness. Another of her senses gone.
Trust him. Such a concept had once seemed impossible but listening to Roberto speak so openly about his past, the raw emotion in his voice as he’d confided in her about his brother’s death. The torment of his parents’ suffering and estrangement from each other and him. Sofia hadn’t questioned Roberto’s heartfelt sincerity. And she dared to believe him when he’d told her this chocolate, her grappatino, was more than worthy of a world class master chocolatier.
With Roberto as her palate in the kitchen, she’d been liberated from the constraints of taste, focusing on the inherent composition of each ingredient for its effect on all the senses. Hot, cold, salty, sweet, bitter, crunchy, creamy. All distilled into one heavenly chocolate with the power to move anyone, even an anosmiac like her.
At least, that was the intention. Now was the moment of truth.
‘I brought you out here because I want you to forget about the kitchen and imagine you’re at the festival,’ Roberto said, his melodic accent accentuated in the darkness. ‘Can you hear it?’
Sofia tilted her head, her ears engaging with the world beyond Roberto’s seductive voice. Laughter of late-night revellers in the streets below echoed up to the rooftop and the lively music of a swing band playing in a nearby piazza infused the night breeze.
‘Uh-huh.’ She nodded.
‘Now you’re at the Valentine’s gala. A waiter offers you a beautiful dolce. Bonaparte’s new grappatino. Dark, rich, decadent. You can’t wait to try it.’ Roberto’s warm breath ignited Sofia’s cheek intensifying the wave of anticipation that rose within her. ‘You take a bite.’
Sofia felt the firm edge of the grappatino on her parted lips and cautiously bit off a tiny sliver. Crunchy specks of salted praline gradually emerged as the chocolate quickly dissolved into buttery nothingness on her tongue.
She savoured the remnants. ‘The brittle texture of the praline balances perfectly with the chocolate, it’s like velvet... I need some more.’ Sofia couldn’t help grinning as her heart swelled on the verge of relief and exaltation.
‘Of course,’ Roberto laughed, his voice rich with joy, sharing her obvious delight. ‘Here it is.’
Sofia opened her mouth, trembling with nervous excitement as she welcomed the rest of the chocolate onto her tongue. She held it there a moment as the hard coating slowly melted. A shot of endorphins fired straight to her head and spread through her veins like an intravenous drug. The power of Roberto’s Peruvian cacao was far more intense than any couverture she’d had before.
Unable to resist any longer Sofia crushed the chocolate against the roof of her mouth. Her tongue delved eagerly through the layer of rich grappa-infused ganache, its creaminess highlighted by the coarse praline sand, and released the fiery liquor centre. She sunk back against the plump sofa cushion and rolled the chocolate around her mouth, luxuriating in its textural complexity and the heat from the liquid alcohol.
‘I told you it was good, no?’
‘Oh my god.’ Sofia relished the last of the grappatino. ‘This is what the Aztecs meant when they said chocolate was the food of the gods.’
‘Can’t get better than that.’ Roberto rested his hand on her thigh as he flopped back beside her, adding to the tide of endorphins already rippling through her blood.
Sofia’s entire being buzzed pleasurably from the ultimate chocolate high: the thrill of triumphing over her anosmia combined with the heady presence of supreme hotness pressed against her side. Despite being without three of her senses, Sofia had never felt so physically awakened.
‘I want more,’ she whispered.
‘Certo, I’ll get you another.’
‘No.’ Sofia’s arm shot across Roberto’s chest, stopping him from reaching forward. ‘Not more chocolate.’ Empowered by the blindfold so she didn’t have to meet his gaze, she rolled her head towards him, her forehead resting against his.
‘Are you sure?’ His heavy breath enlivened her lips.
‘Yes,’ she said softly while her body screamed abso-fucking-lutely!
Roberto lifted his hand from her thigh and tenderly pushed her hair behind her shoulder. Sofia’s heart pounded at the gentle touch of his fingertips on her neck as they glided upwards through her hair and clasped her head. He brushed his lips teasingly across hers. Once. Twice. Like the first exquisite tastes of a virgin chocolate, its thrilling centre waiting to be discovered.
Sofia arched back delighting in Roberto’s seductive game of delayed gratification as he trailed whisper kisses down her neck. He gently pulled aside the top of her dress, her exposed shoulders shivering in the cool night air. The titillating sensation of warm lips and stubble tickling over her décolletage in complete darkness was almost too much to bear.
She bit her lip, her mouth hungry for Roberto’s kiss but not wanting to rush his exhilarating exploration. Breathing heavily she eagerly absorbed his electrifying touch in a previously unknown erogenous zone in the hollow of her collarbone. Delicious tingles ricocheted through her with each flick of Roberto’s tongue on her awakened skin.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and eased her back along the sofa. His muscular leg pressed between her thighs as he moved on top of her and at last he found her mouth with passionate fervour. Their tongues furiously entwined as his restrained approach gave way to urgent desire.
Sofia drove her fingers through his thick hair as she thrust her breasts instinctively into his chest. The friction of his cotton t-shirt against her delicate lace bra hardened her nipples to aching peaks. As though reading her mind, Roberto’s expert hand found one breast, his thumb circling her erect orb, powering the building need between her parted legs.
Sofia impatiently tugged Roberto’s t-shirt out of his jeans and worked her hands underneath, running her fingers over his toned abs, around his sculpted back and dug her nails into his warm skin.
‘I want to see you,’ she moaned.
‘Not yet amore.’ Roberto scooped his arms under her and swept her into his embrace as he stood upright.
‘Where are we going?’ She clasped her hands around his neck as he cradled her close to his body.
‘The chaise is better for what I have in mind.’
The cool fabric of a cushioned seat sent a chill across Sofia’s bare legs as Roberto lowered her onto the sun longue and gently laid her back. He lifted her arms above her head guiding her hands to the top of the timber frame.
‘Keep them there.’
Sofia willingly obeyed, her body writhing with blissful vulnerability as Roberto skimmed his hands over her breasts. He pulled aside the shear lace of her bra and eagerly sucked each hardened nipple as he untied her belt, draping her dress open.
‘Mamma mia,’ he groaned, no doubt at the discovery of Sofia’s sheer G-string.
‘Fabrizio says a visible panty line is fashion suicide,’ she giggled.
‘Remind me to thank Fabrizio.’
Sofia gasped as Roberto’s thumb rubbed her swollen bud through the fine lace. His fingers nudged the G-string aside and slipped inside her in a blissful rhythm as his mouth possessed her nipple again. Sofia gripped the hard edge of the chaise above her head and rocked in time with his mind-blowing touch. Each downward movement releasing a euphoric wave of pleasure.
Blindfolded, in Roberto’s expert hands, Sofia was on the verge of control, unable to hold on for much longer. The merry sounds of the festivities in the city below faded to a distant hum as her rioting heartbeat amplified in the darkness. She inhaled forcefully through clenched teeth in sudden awareness of Roberto’s tongue working in glorious harmony with his fingers, spiralling her to another dimension as he erotically tongue-kissed her most intimate place.
On the brink of orgasmic collapse, Sofia tore off the blindfold only to be further aroused by the sight of Roberto’s head nestled between her legs.
‘Come to me,’ she gasped.
Roberto’s eyes shot up at her. ‘This is about you Sofia.’
‘And I want you inside me.’
His eyes blazed with animalistic need as he leapt up and pulled off his t-shirt in one swift motion. His chiselled torso gleamed in the moonlight as he popped the top button of his jeans and released his urgent erection. Sofia almost whimpered at the sight of his glorious, thick silken shaft. Her sex pulsed with yearning and she arched on the cushioned backrest, dropping her legs either side of the chaise, inviting Roberto to fill her completely.
He shrugged off his jeans and boxers and gripped the sides of the longue, balancing over Sofia as energy vibrated between their almost touching bodies. Roberto locked eyes with hers as he slowly rubbed the velvet tip of his erection over her throbbing bud.
‘Is this what you want?’ he asked huskily.
‘Yes.’ Sofia breathed heavily struggling to hold Roberto’s gaze as he teased her with his cock. Her opening buzzed with indescribable pleasure as he dipped into her and pulled out.
‘Again?’
‘Uh-huh.’ Sofia bit her lip as she looked at him pleadingly.
He leant down and devoured her mouth, his tongue engaging hers in lustful rapture as he slipped his hard tip into her again. And out again. In. Out. A little deeper each time until his full girth enlivened her every nerve ending.
‘Oh Dio, wait.’ He pulled out suddenly and grabbed his jeans from beside the chaise. He whipped a condom from the pocket and tore the packet open with his teeth.
‘Planning on getting lucky?’ Sofia laughed.
‘I’d hoped.’ Roberto’s face shone with boyish cheek.
He deftly sheathed his erection and lowered on top of her again. He watched her intently, his pupils dilating, as he gently inched into her. Staring into each other’s eyes as they became one, their connection transcended the physical. Sofia had never experienced such intimacy before.
She encircled her legs around his waist as he cupped her behind, his fingers sliding against her aroused opening heightening the erotic sensation that filled and enveloped every part of her.
The distant sound of fireworks exploding over the Arno River echoed the blissful release in Sofia as she welcomed Roberto fully, swaying back and forth on the chaise. Her bud rubbed against the base of his shaft as his cock drove into her, soaring her to euphoric oblivion. Wave upon wave of ecstasy crashed over Sofia leaving her trembling uncontrollably in the moonlight.
* * *
Roberto’s eyes followed the glow of the fire flames dancing across Sofia’s bare skin as she lay in his arms on the chaise longue. He ran his fingers down her smooth back, mesmerised by the gradual formation of goose bumps as she shivered at his touch.
‘Are you cold amore?’
‘No, that feels nice,’ she murmured.
‘Happy with your new cioccolato?’
‘I think actions speak louder than words.’ She lightly circled his nipple with her fingertip triggering a rush of goose bumps across his own skin.
‘How will I last two whole days without more of this,’ he moaned.
‘It won’t be easy.’ Sofia looked up at him, her eyes flashing suggestively. ‘But I have to brief the staff at Bonaparte’s on the grappatino and get it ready for Valentine’s Day. So we’ll meet at the gala? Can you wait that long?’ She arched an eyebrow at him.
‘Do I have a choice?’
‘Not really,’ she giggled, resting her head back on his chest.
Roberto inhaled the familiar vanilla perfume of Sofia’s hair, the fragrance that would forever capture this moment in his memory.
He yearned to indulge in her naked flesh again and again. But it was more than physical ecstasy he craved from Sofia. He wanted all of her. She’d opened his eyes to his past with fresh perspective. His memories of his brother, always bathed in pain now shone with renewed hope. She’d made him think the impossible was within his reach. The chance for a life he wanted to live, where passion overshadowed obligation.
‘I can’t remember the last time I felt as... content as I do right now,’ he said.
‘Me either.’ Sofia squeezed her arms around him, nuzzling her head against his chest. ‘You know I was horrified in Baraldo when you told me we were going to be stuck together.’
‘Si, I got that impression.’
‘But you surprised me. And you were the perfect gentleman.’ She rolled her head up to look at him, resting her chin on her hands.
‘Maybe not entirely perfect.’ The corners of his mouth curled upwards.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Let’s just say you were quite flirtatious that first night and I’m only human.’
‘I knew it!’ Sofia arched up to look at him directly. ‘You said nothing happened.’
‘It didn’t.’ He paused. ‘Just some kissing before I realised you were drunk. That’s all, I promise.’
‘That’s not so bad I guess.’ Her posture softened as she relaxed back into his arms.
‘It was far from bad. But it didn’t go any further because I wouldn’t let it.’
‘You weren’t interested in ravishing me?’ Roberto’s skin reeled as she gave his pec a playful pinch.
‘Oh, I was very interested.’ Sofia laughed as he stroked his hands down her back again. ‘You really don’t remember anything about that night?’
‘Not after the colossal grappa hit. I guess I blacked out.’
‘Has that happened before?’
‘Sure, in my misspent youth,’ she said light-heartedly. But Roberto sensed from her dismissive tone she was masking a deeper pain.
‘You were young when your mother passed, no?’
‘Yes.’ She stared into the fire as her fingertips lightly glided back and forth across his chest.
‘Then it was just you and your sister?’
‘We didn’t have any other family. I promised Mum I’d look after Annabella so she wouldn’t end up in foster care. And I needed her just as much as she needed me. Staying together helped us survive.’
‘It must have been hard taking on that responsibility when you were so young yourself.’
‘It was.’ She tucked her hands under her chin. ‘But I put on a brave face for Annabella. She still doesn’t really know how out of control I was those first few years. By the time we went to Paris for our training I was so desperate to feel secure, I got sucked in by the wrong person.’
‘A man?’ Fire shot through Roberto at the thought of someone hurting Sofia when she was at her most vulnerable.
‘It’s such a cliché. Marco was my mentor at the academy. He was much older than me. Daddy issues, right?’ Her voice cut with cynicism. ‘I was so naïve, I really thought he loved me. But he was just using me. By the time I realised I was in too deep.’
‘You were in love?’
‘Like an addiction. But I—’ She sniffed sharply and cleared her throat as if trying to rid herself of the brittle emotion in her voice. ‘I was pregnant.’
‘Oh Sofia—’
‘He’d left before I had a chance to tell him. Back to a family I didn’t even know existed. I was so...’ she trailed off, staring at the fire as though hypnotised by its flickering flames, locked in the painful memory. ‘I was so broken I couldn’t give my baby the love—’ she gasped suddenly, squeezing her hands into fists, ‘—the love she needed to survive.’
Roberto wrapped his arms around her shaking body, his heart splintering at the raw pain and regret imbued in her voice. He squeezed her tightly in his embrace, wishing he could absorb all her pain; let it torment him and set Sofia free.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered as her silent tears trickled into his chest.
Sorry for her loss. Sorry he hadn’t been the man she deserved. Roberto had no right to hope for a relationship with Sofia. She’d trusted him with her most intimate secret and he’d only offered her a fragment of his past.
But if he told her the whole truth now, she’d question everything she knew about him and herself. That renewed confidence that lit up her face as she’d ruled the kitchen despite her anosmia might evaporate into insecurity and despair. Roberto couldn’t do that to her.
He’d wait, until after the Valentine’s gala, where her chocolate was sure to be a success and the return of her career would soften the blow of his deceit. Roberto would tell her everything. Even if that meant losing her. He refused to be the man he was when they’d first met.
If, by some miracle, Sofia forgave him, they’d start their relationship with a clean slate. If she didn’t, their contract would be over and she’d be free to leave him. And he’d get what he deserved.