spoke with my mother earlier. She said your parents are genuinely upset over your disappearance. I was glad to hear it. Bertina sees a fissure in the ice where they are concerned. I just thought you should know.”
Her eyes clouded over. “That’s pretty hard to believe.”
“I don’t think she would have said anything if she didn’t think it were true.” He kissed her temple. “See you in the morning. I’ll make breakfast when I get here. Same time?”
She nodded, causing her black curls to shimmer. He longed to plunge his fingers into that silky mass and devour her.
Without lingering any longer, he walked out to the car and drove away without looking back. Needing a distraction, he turned on the radio and found a twenty-four-hour news station. But he didn’t hear anything about her case until he’d pulled into the parking area of his favorite sports bar in the village.
That’s when he learned that Interpol was now involved to coordinate police cooperation throughout Europe in order to find the princess.
After shutting off the engine, he went inside and ordered, a pale lager from a Lombardi brewery both he and Takis enjoyed. While he waited for the waiter to bring some appetizers, he phoned Vincenzo. His friend wouldn’t be taking Gemma to their home in Lake Como until next week. Cesare needed some advice and no one had a better head.
He reached Vincenzo’s voice mail and asked him to call him when he could. Once he’d finished his lager, he headed for the castello and let himself in his private office off the lobby. While he did some work on the computer that had been piling up, his friend returned the call and Cesare talked to him about Tuccia’s disappearance.
“Tonight I heard that Interpol is now involved. It’s getting ugly. Tuccia has sent Jean-Michel a letter of apology. He should be getting it soon. But part of me wants to urge her to get in touch with him right away and settle this thing quietly with him and her parents. The press could then be informed that she’s safe and they’ve called off their marriage.”
A long silence ensued. “In a perfect world, Cesare. But I was born in her imperfect one. She’s done something uncommonly courageous. It’s just my opinion, but I think she needs to see it through on her own inspiration, come what may. That’s what I did with no regrets.”
It was the “come what may” part that made Cesare shudder. He couldn’t ignore what she’d told him at the park about her caged life, but he valued Vincenzo’s judgment. “Thanks for listening. I appreciate it.”
“We’ve been through a lot together, amico. Are you going to be all right?”
“I’ll have to be, won’t I.”
He hung up. There’d be little sleep for him tonight. Instead of going up to his room, he began printing off copies of the recipes she’d been following under his supervision. When the time came, she would have to hand them to her assistants.
Dozens of other tasks needed to be taken care of. Why not now while adrenaline surged through his veins over the cruelty Tuccia had endured this far in her life. She’d been robbed of a normal existence. If he didn’t have responsibilities, he’d disappear with her to some hidden spot on the other side of the globe and love her without worrying about anything else.
* * *
This morning Tuccia had got up at five-thirty to finish her surprise for Cesare and make some rolls. She’d started their breakfast before she’d gone to bed and hoped he’d love it. He’d done so much for her that she wanted to do this small thing to repay him. Today would be their last for working together alone.
In the past when she’d gone out on the royal yacht with her parents and their friends in the summer, one of the aspects she looked forward to was the Sicilian breakfast served on board. Curious to know how granita was made, she’d prevailed on the cook to show her.
When the mixture of sugar, water and almond paste was melted, then frozen, stirred, mashed, frozen, stirred, mashed and frozen many times until it came out looking like snow, it was served in a goblet. Eaten with a yeast brioche, it tasted like heaven. The cook also made fruit granitas topped with whipping cream, but she’d preferred the almond and dipped her roll in it.
From the window over the sink she saw Cesare arrive. It was ten to eight. He was early! Every time he came to the apartment, excitement exploded inside her. Thank goodness she’d set the table ahead of time and had made coffee. She’d even designed a menu for him, describing what he would be eating. She folded and propped it where his plate would go.
Though she wanted to fling the door open and run into his arms, she steeled herself to wait until he knocked before answering the door. The second he walked in wearing a dark blue polo shirt and white trousers, he paused. His gaze zeroed in on her.
“Something smells wonderful.”
Somebody looked wonderful.
“I’m glad. Welcome to Tuccia’s, Signor Donati!” She made a sweep with the arm that had fresh honey gauze pads taped over her burns. They wouldn’t be necessary after today. “If you’ll come in and find a seat, I’ll be your server.”
She watched him walk in the kitchen and sit down to examine the menu. His head reared. He stared at her with a stunned expression. “Granita di mandorle?”
“Si, signor.”
Delighted with his reaction, she rushed to pour their coffee. She’d already put sugar on the table because he liked a lot of it. Then she pulled two filled snifters out of the small freezer compartment. After putting them on a plate with a warm roll, she set them on the table and sat down.
Tuccia had already tasted it and knew it was good. Not as good as the cook on the yacht had made it, but she was proud of it. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Cesare take his first few bites, wishing he were her husband so they could do this every morning.
Pretty soon he was dipping his roll into the concoction the way she always did. Halfway through his meal, he ran out of roll and reached for her hand across the table.
“You told me you didn’t know how to cook anything except to make instant coffee and tea in the microwave.”
“I forgot about this. I love it so much I begged the cook on my parents’ yacht to teach me how.”
He released her fingers. “It’s superb...just the right taste and consistency. You must have been up all night.”
“I wanted to treat you for a change. It was worth it.”
He seemed taken back. “My mother’s version isn’t as good as this one. We’re going to be serving your rendition for one of our nightly desserts starting next week.”
She moaned. “It’s so much work!”
His deep laughter filled the kitchen. “That’s what the assistants are for. I have a gut feeling our fame for fine Sicilian cuisine is going to spread and we’ll be inundated with too many would-be guests to accommodate.”
He got up from the table and brought back a plate with more rolls. Having finished off the flavored ice, he devoured the rest of them in no time at all. “These are delicious by the way. You’re such a fast learner it’s breathtaking. I’m convinced you could do anything at all if you put your mind to it.”
“I think you’re flattering me into giving you another serving of granita. I made enough if you want more now.”
“I’ll definitely want some later.” He sat back in the chair. “Tell me. Would you rather lie down for the rest of the morning and catch up on some much-needed sleep? Later on this afternoon I’ll come back and we’ll work on the chocolate torte. Once you’ve made it, we won’t have to worry about your cooking anything new for a few days.”
“I’d rather do it now if you don’t mind. Then I’ll be able to relax enough to face tomorrow.”
“So be it. Let’s get started. I’ll