waiter had shown them to a front table on the shaded terrace overlooking sun-drenched vineyards and there they had chatted like old friends as they soaked up the wine and many delicious Italian flavours such as the Caprese salad with sweet tomatoes and mozzarella splashed with fresh basil, ricotta ravioli pasta with a fusion of fresh herbs, and a delicious pork medallion with vegetables, all followed by a show-stopping and irresistible mille-feuille, or what Olivia recognized as a cream slice.
More than a dinner, it was a feast, and throughout Alberto entertained her with stories about his many failures as he attempted to find solutions to the numerous challenges involved in creating some of the greenest cars on earth. He also talked about how he enjoyed not only lecturing students, but engaging with them as well.
‘They believe anything is possible,’ he’d said, which is why he loved to learn from them as well as teach. Even younger kids had brought something to the table when he’d visited schools, whether ideas for fuelling future cars or designing them. She found it endearing that he drew so much of his inspiration from the younger generation, though was wholly ashamed at how little she knew about the subject herself.
She’d tried desperately to rack her brains for a name in car design and had said, ‘I’m sure Enzo Ferrari would have been wise to utilize wider resources for his research.’
Alberto had laughed, displaying beautifully strong teeth. ‘Ah, now that is interesting,’ he’d said, ‘and I won’t bog you down with all the detail but, although the industry was mainly selling speed and sex when Ferrari built and styled the V12 engine for racing, Enzo Ferrari also built a training institute for technicians; mainly for his company, but which still exists today. He was a big inspiration for me, in fact.
‘He realized too, I’m sure, that young minds can contribute to education and knowledge in the world of mechanics and physics. Perhaps it was because his son Alfredo – they called him Dino – died young. He was only in his early twenties when he died, and was still working to develop the 1500 cc V6 engine, which they released within a year. I know our cars sit on very different shelves in the supermarket,’ Alberto had said, providing her with a strong image of those magazines on top shelves in the shops, ‘but it’s not so dissimilar to your industry, really is it? A massage can have so many possible markets.’
He’d said it sliding a hand across the table and catching her wrist, his eyes brimming with lust as his fingers squeezed hers.
Usually Olivia would have snubbed such an unoriginal and corny comment about her work, but the way Alberto had relayed the inspiration behind his work and the ethos involving students was admirable. What he said was true. Plus, his touch was electric. She’d watched his glasses slide down his nose, his eyes instantly rousing her.
She would have fallen into his arms that very second, spellbound by lust. How she’d managed to keep her hands to herself when his lips found hers, she’d never know. Instantly her body responded like never before. Like her, however, Alberto had managed to restrain himself, and pulled away, leaving her panting for more.
It took her another glass of wine to recover, so after resting on his chest, watching the sun inch behind the distant hills, he’d driven her safely back to the villa and left her aching for his body all night.
***
Shifting heavy bedroom furniture and rugs to sweep underneath was becoming tiring. There were so many bedrooms, but it had to be done, as did the mopping of the floors and polishing of copious amounts of antique cabinets and ornaments. At least they could be packed away straight away after the viewings were over, she thought. Each room was smelling as fresh and as inviting as she could manage with dust removed from every nook and cranny, even the ceilings.
By the evening, she was physically exhausted but satisfied and every room had been reinvigorated. She hankered after the tasty pasta she’d eaten the day before. After closing up the well-aired rooms, she headed downstairs to the kitchen and reached for the dried pasta in the cupboard. Inspired by her time with Alberto, who was now probably tinkering with some new energy theory, she was reminded of the explosion of herbs in her mouth at the restaurant, along with the warmth of the afternoon sun.
She missed Alberto already and couldn’t wait for their next date. Whilst boiling the pasta she created a sauce with chopped tomatoes and a handful of fresh basil and thyme from the tub outside. The aroma was delicious, making her mouth salivate and the memory of Alberto surge to her mind – to the moment he’d first brushed his lips on hers before moving to the seat beside her and, gently, lifting her chin and placing his mouth on hers again. Their first kiss.
At once her heart skipped at the recollection. Every nerve inside her had jostled before fusing to a monstrous heat and melting her body like liquid metal. A sensation alien to her. She regained her breath, and stirred the sweet-smelling tomato sauce. Alberto had scorched a part of her that she never knew existed and it had certainly left her body screaming for more.
Cupping her hands on her cheeks, as if covering her blushes, she recalled his parting attempt. As Alberto had stopped the car outside the villa, he turned his head to her, his eyes hungry, just like her own, but then, regaining control he averted them and gripped the steering wheel as if to tame his urge. The creases in the corners of his eyes had dropped. They both knew kissing would be highly dangerous.
Instead, he drew in his breath, stroked her wrist, and said, ‘I would love to see you again. Tuesday? I could pick you up at seven and take you into Florence.’
Biting her lip to curb a yell of extreme joy, she nodded, surreptitiously monitoring every minute flinch between them. ‘That would be lovely. Yes, I’ll look forward to it.’
They’d restrained their blatant hunger, possibly both subconsciously saving it for the right place. Olivia failed to understand how she’d managed. As he’d kissed the top of her forehead and said goodnight, he’d let her smoulder briefly in his arms.
***
Olivia woke Monday morning to the sound of the doorbell. With muscles refusing to cooperate from her cleaning binge the previous day, she tried to lift herself out of bed and took a few moments to stretch out before hobbling in her pyjamas to the front door. It sounded again as she unbolted the top and bottom.
‘All right, I’m here.’ She turned the lock and drew back the door, her eyes meeting with a pleasing plate of croissants along with a smile from a friendly face. ‘Gabriella, how thoughtful. Come on in.’
‘I cannot stop now. I have guests in the dining room but I would like us to sit and talk soon,’ Gabriella said, her eyebrows squeezing together. She stepped towards Olivia, lifting the plate slightly. ‘I thought you might want something fresh and filling this morning as you have people coming to look at house.’
Olivia took the neatly arranged croissants and raised them to her nose. The buttery essence wafting up her nostrils was heavenly and instantly reminded her of Nonna. ‘Mmm, delicious, thank you. Oh, but what a shame you can’t join me.’ She peered at Gabriella eagerly, hoping she would change her mind.
‘Always business – it will be quieter later today once the guests leave. Maybe we have time to talk then.’
‘I know. You are so devoted. Oh, but before you go, do you know where the key to Nonna’s wedding chest is? I’ve kept an eye out as I’ve been cleaning, but can’t find it.’
Gabriella shrugged, then pinched her chin, peering up as though inspecting the ceiling. ‘Now I did see that in Elena’s office I’m sure. But that was a long time ago. I’m sorry. I don’t know where it is now.’
