buried before her. Gio fought down the predictable tightness in his chest, and Valentina continued. ‘She was a cook for a local trattoria, and she was my first teacher. From when I was tiny she taught me all the basics and her secrets. When I left school I went to work with her, and then when she passed away, I worked for Marcel Picheron as a commis-chef.’
Her mouth twisted minutely. ‘My parents had pooled all their resources into—’ She stopped abruptly and the name hung silently in the air like an accusation—Mario. Then she looked away for a moment before continuing through the thick tension in the air. ‘They had no more money to send me to college, but I heard about Marcel’s open days when he would audition unknowns so I auditioned and got in.’
Gio remembered well how Mario’s parents had put every cent into his education. And yet Valentina had never shown any signs of being bitter about her own education being neglected. She’d been as proud as they had.
He could only imagine how good Valentina must have been to impress the cantankerous old French chef who had more Michelin stars than any other chef in Italy and who ran the most exclusive restaurant on the island. It had a waiting list of six months.
Valentina glanced at Gio again. ‘I worked my way up to sous-chef but I found that my forte was in devising menus and creating hors d’oeuvres.’
Dryly he remarked now, ‘You probably have had a better training than most people out of a cordon bleu school in Paris.’
Valentina shrugged, her cheeks going pink. ‘I set up my own catering company with two friends a year ago. We come up with menus for events, and then we hire outside chefs to come in and cook. I make all the canapés. In general I supervise everything, and step in to chef if I need to.’
Gio recalled the small part of the reception he’d seen a few weeks ago. He could remember the intricately delicate canapés, how appetising and original they’d looked even though he’d had no appetite for them, his gut too churned up to be there in the first place.
He got up from behind his desk and stood at the huge window with hands in his pockets, observing but not really seeing the hive of activity out on the racecourse. He turned back to face Valentina, who was sitting in a chair. She looked as delicate and brittle as spun glass.
‘The annual Corretti Cup race meeting is coming up in three weeks. It runs for three days with the Corretti Cup race on the last day. We provide a full entertainment package here, including a set menu for lunch every day. I’d like you to come up with the menu for that main luncheon each day, and also look after catering for the evening champagne receptions.’
His words took a minute to sink in. Valentina stood up, feeling a little shaky and disbelieving. She’d imagined Gio telling her she could work on the lowest rung of the ladder in his kitchen. Not that she could be handed the entire catering job for the Corretti Cup! Suspicious now she said testily, ‘I’m not a charity case.’
His eyes flashed and his jaw tightened. ‘I don’t hire people out of the goodness of my heart. I hire them because they’re good. I’ve got a new chef that I’m not sure about so I want you to devise a menu for him to work to. I saw what you did at the wedding reception—your work is good, very good. Quite apart from the recommendation that my aunt hired you in the first place when she’s a notorious stickler for perfection.’
A warm flush of pleasure took Valentina by surprise and she realised what an opportunity she was being presented with. The annual Corretti Cup was a very prestigious international fixture. Whatever the kudos of doing a Corretti wedding, this was on another level. Suddenly she felt giddy at the thought.
She bit her lip. ‘I had two full-time staff working for me. I trust them.’
Gio waved a hand. ‘Hire them back. Whatever you need.’
He came back around his desk and sat down and looked up at her, completely business-like. ‘Let’s discuss your fees.’
* * *
An hour later Valentina’s head was whirling. She’d been despatched with one of Gio’s assistants and given a thorough tour of the kitchens and dining areas. It was all state of the art and luxurious without being ostentatious. There were VIP corporate boxes that overlooked the stadium, with their own balconies. There was even a couple of royal suite boxes.
When they emerged back out onto the main track area her guide pointed behind the huge stand and said, ‘That’s where the stables and practice gallops are situated, and the staff living quarters. Signor Corretti keeps the rest of his horses at his castello nearby where his stud is based.’
Valentina pushed down the lancing pain when she thought of the castello grounds where Mario had died and asked, ‘What’s it like to work here?’
The assistant answered enthusiastically, ‘Signor Corretti is a tough boss but fair. He always knows exactly what’s going on, and we get better paid than at any of the other racetracks in Italy.’
Valentina told him she was fine to wander on her own after that. The truth was, Gio had been more than fair with her pay. He’d been positively generous. When she’d balked at the amount, he’d said, ‘I pay all my staff well, Valentina. I’m not interested in having people working for me who are grumbling about pay or overtime. I can do this, and so I do.’
Valentina surmised now that the vast wealth he’d built up from his horses came in handy when you wanted to keep your employees loyal. But for some reason that churlish thought didn’t sit entirely right. Gio hadn’t struck her as the type of person to buy his staff’s favour. They all seemed to genuinely like him.
She saw his tall form now in the distance and it made her heart kick in a very betraying manner. He’d spotted her and was striding towards her. Valentina had the abrupt urge to turn and run away fast but she didn’t. When he stopped before her he asked her how she’d got on and she told him. Dark glasses hid his eyes and Valentina had the perverse urge to take them off so she could read those changeable green depths.
She curled her hands to fists at her sides.
‘So you’ll start tomorrow then? There’s a lot to do in three weeks.’
Valentina nodded and looked away. ‘Yes, I’ll start tomorrow.’ She looked back to Gio and said haltingly, ‘I...just wanted to say thank you. You didn’t have to do this.’
Mario. Of course he had to do this.
The name hung in the air between them again, even though neither of them had said it. Gio shrugged lightly. ‘I’m always on the lookout for good staff and I think you’ll add an edge to this year’s Corretti Cup.’
He was perfectly solicitous and polite, much as Valentina would imagine him being with anyone else, and she suddenly hated that. She didn’t want to be just another employee. So what did she want to be then? The dangerous revelation of that thought made her step back hurriedly. ‘OK, well, I’d better get going.’
‘You know you can move into the staff quarters here if you like?’
Valentina shook her head. ‘No, with my father in hospital I’d like to see him every day. And my mother needs me.’
‘That’s going to be a killer of a commute. I don’t need you falling asleep in your canapés.’
Valentina glanced quickly at him and away again when she saw his rigid jaw. ‘It’ll be fine. I won’t let you down.’
She moved to leave and Gio put his hand on her arm. She stopped in her tracks, breathless.
‘I didn’t mean that you would let me down. I’m concerned it’ll be too much.’
Valentina forced down the tender feeling rising up and looked directly at Gio’s dark glasses where she was reflected as a tiny figure. She pulled her arm free and said coolly, ‘I’m not your concern.’
Gio’s jaw clenched tighter. ‘You are if you’re my employee.’
Valentina faced him directly, something dark