about you. Have you decided what you want to do with your life?”
A slow smile broke out on her face. “That was a trick question, right?”
The woman was getting to him. “Not at all. Since you never intended to follow through on the betrothal, what had you imagined you would be doing when you finally made your escape?”
Her smile faded. She looked away. “To be honest I only thought about how to subsist until my parents stopped looking for me and go from there.”
Cesare had assumed as much. “If I hadn’t offered you safe passage on the jet this morning, what was your exact plan when you reached Catania?”
“I was going to find temporary work in a greenhouse through an old school friend until I’m forced to move on for fear of being spotted.”
He hadn’t expected to hear that. “Are you a gardener with a knowledge of horticulture that would make you an asset at the greenhouse?”
“Of course not.”
“Yet you’re willing to prevail on the friend you mentioned to get a job there?”
“Yes. She works at the university and could help me find a position for a while. But because you told me not to use my phone, I haven’t talked to her yet and wouldn’t be able to until I reached Catania.”
“Do you have an affinity for flowers?”
Her head flew back. “Have you forgotten I’m a princess who has no knowledge of anything practical? But I’m strong and could cart plants around in a wheelbarrow if I have to.”
“I wasn’t trying to insult you.”
“I know,” she half moaned. “You’re being so good to me. I’m sorry I snapped.”
“I think you’re handling your desperate situation with amazing grace.”
She shook her head. “But it’s one I created and I don’t deserve your kindness.”
“Why do you say that? Everyone deserves help from time to time.”
He heard a deep sigh. “I guess because my parents rarely showed any kindness to me while I was growing up.”
“Did they hurt you physically?”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that. But their stifling, rigid rules made my life unbearable.”
“Nevertheless it doesn’t mean you’re not deserving of kindness,” he reminded her. “Just so you know, your letter to Jean-Michel has been dealt with in a way that won’t be traced to you. He should be getting it in a few days, so you can put that worry out of your mind.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You’re a saint.”
“Hardly.” He leaned toward her with his hands on his thighs. “I’ve given your precarious position a lot of thought. Your idea to go to Catania would only be a stopgap for a few days. I still think it would be best if you leave Europe tomorrow. I’ll arrange it.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t let you do that. You’ve done more than enough for me and have your own problem to solve right here.”
“First things first, Tuccia. You need to get far away. New York would be the perfect place to get lost. With my contacts, I could set you up in your own apartment and they would help you find a job that you would like to do. No one would suspect you’re the princess who disappeared. You’d be safe. That is what you want, isn’t it?”
“You know it is, but I’ve been thinking about the chef who’s in the hospital and how desperate you must be feeling right now. You saved my life by bringing me to Milan. Instead of putting you in an impossible position, I’d like to do something of value for you in return,” she said in an aching voice.
She had a way of running over every roadblock. He sat back and studied her for a moment, intrigued. “What do you mean?”
“Why not teach me to be a pastry chef so I can work at your ristorante until he’s well and can fly here. I’d do anything to help you if I could.”
It took all his self-control not to laugh. To his shock, he had the strongest suspicion she was being completely serious. “Are you saying you know how to cook?”
A small sound escaped her throat. “No. I’m embarrassed to tell you I’ve never cooked anything from start to finish in my life, although I spent a lot of time in the palazzo kitchen growing up. The cooks were kind to me and let me watch. I washed lettuce and sometimes they’d let me beat egg whites or stir the gravy. Once in a while they’d allow me to sift the flour into the cake bowl before it was baked.”
“Does that mean you didn’t learn to cook at boarding school?”
She laughed outright. “You have a strange idea of what goes on there.”
“Actually I do know, and was only teasing.” Despite the impossibility of what she’d said, the more they talked, the more he found himself enjoying her company. Too much in fact.
“I’m relieved to hear it, Cesare. To be honest, that boarding school in France happened so long ago I’ve forgotten. All I know is, I was waited on. When my parents enrolled me at the University of Paris, I had to live with them in an apartment in St. Germain des Pres. Would it reassure you to know that I told my maid I could make my own tea and instant coffee in the microwave?”
He laughed at her sense of humor and her sparse knowledge in the cooking department. A princess with a classic education from the finest schools and universities in Europe, but to make a pastry... “Tuccia—”
“Please hear me out, Cesare,” she cut him off before he could say anything else. “According to your mother, you could head any Cordon Bleu cooking school in the world. You could teach me. It would be like getting a college education of a different kind.”
His eyes searched hers. She wasn’t kidding. Princess Tuccianna had been known for doing some daring, outlandish things, but this idea had shocked him to the core.
“As intelligent and resourceful as you are, you don’t know what would be entailed.”
She sat forward. “My parents’ cooks didn’t know how to cook in the beginning, did they? They had to learn from someone,” she reasoned. “Why couldn’t I do the same thing under your expert tutelage? I’d work fast and it would free you up to get on with running all your businesses. My anonymity would be assured hidden behind the castello walls. Within six months, the chef you hired would be back.”
Cesare no longer felt like laughing. This beautiful young woman was bargaining for her life. He had to give her credit for possessing the kind of guts he hadn’t seen in most people.
When he didn’t say anything, she blurted, “I’ve been thinking about what you asked me.”
“What was that?”
“About what I wanted to do with my life. If you were to teach me how to make pastry, I would have learned a marketable skill. When Signor Fragala returns, I’d be able to use all that knowledge I’d learned from you. With a reference from
