had made it clear to the agent, Signor Ricci, that he was only interested in purchasing the run-down farmhouse, or villa as the agent and family called it. Buying the complete business would not only break his budget, but it would also be far too much work to take on. Signor Ricci had been adamant he should go along and view it, suggesting that vendors are just as fickle as buyers, and that the seller of the villa was sure to appreciate every option available.
As much as Hugh would love to own acres of vineyards and olive groves, the price and commitment were too high. After seeing the Villa Elena, however, it was now going to be a torment if he couldn’t have it. It was perfect. It was beautifully situated and would make a wonderful base, plus it had potential and would safeguard his investment.
He could gradually carry out the renovations to make a wonderful home for the future should he decide to stay. There were so few worthwhile options available in his price range in the area. He just had to hope that there was little demand and that Signor Ricci could persuade the owner to consider his.
After meeting Olivia Montague, however, he was pleasantly surprised. He’d imagined an elderly woman with red-dyed hair for some reason, but this woman was such a sweet thing, had just lost her grandmother too, which made him a little uncomfortable imagining that the agent was quite possibly now informing her of his proposal.
He felt rather silly. Clearly she wanted to cut and run from the whole thing and just take a few of her grandmother’s personal things. And that chest was certainly intriguing. Cesare, he was sure, would relish the opportunity to work on it.
***
As promised, Alberto arrived at her door Tuesday evening, lifting Olivia’s spirits immediately with his magnetic smile and his dark sunglasses. As he lifted them, she at once felt breathless. He pulled her close and pressed his lips lightly on hers, and the harrowing day she’d spent sifting through her nonna’s belongings was soon forgotten; but she was forced to tear her mind from the demands of her body. She lured him out the door and locked it.
‘We should go,’ she told him, ‘or I may never get to see Florence.’
‘I agree,’ he said sitting his glasses back into position and opening the car door for her. Subtle tones of ginger and grapefruit joined forces, wafting in the air as he got in to the driver seat and started the car. The pleasure she received from inhaling his alluring scent alone made her so grateful that she had come to Italy.
What a welcome distraction Alberto was from clearing out and distributing Nonna’s things into their destined piles. She hadn’t realized the extent of the task, nor the sadness it evoked. As much as she tried not to think about Nonna’s death, this task, she was convinced, was creating more grief.
After making small chat on the journey, Olivia recognized Florence immediately from pictures as Alberto parked the car on the south side of the Arno. She was sure she had come to the city when she was younger with her mamma, but was unable to recall the occasion. Alberto took her hand, leading her along a tree-lined road before taking her through the narrow, cobbled streets lined with artisan workshops. It wasn’t long before he was serenading her across the beautiful Ponte Vecchio.
Passing the plethora of sparkling jewellery shops, Alberto squeezed her hand. ‘So many exquisite items, but this jewel you must see. Close your eyes.’
Brimming with excitement, Olivia did as she was told, gripping tightly to his hand. Reaching the central arches of the medieval bridge, Alberto led her to the railing. Hugging her from behind, he lowered his face beside hers. ‘Open.’
Olivia gasped with delight, and she felt Alberto grinning at her reaction. Together, they soaked in the setting sun and its reflection on the Arno river.
‘This is beautiful,’ she said smiling up at him amid the glowing saffron hues. ‘Simply stunning. And an extremely pleasant end to what’s been quite an emotional day.’
‘Good, I am pleased it’s distracting you. The whole city is captivating; I never tire of it. Visitors should always return in the evening. It is special, but they go home after the museums close and miss the evening atmosphere. On Thursday, I’ll take you to see the Duomo. Tonight, we’ll eat and forget everything else,’ he told her.
‘I have an appointment with the cabinet restorer on Thursday morning, but I’m free in the afternoon.’
‘Magnifico! We can come in the evening again too. You know, you are driving me crazy and I cannot work very well. I keep thinking about you.’
Feeling the heat in her cheeks, she raised her head, lost for words. He was so easy and comfortable to be around, as though they’d been friends for ever. Wouldn’t this be the perfect opportunity to admit to him how crazy he made her feel? Or would that turn him off? Finally she said, ‘I’m flattered but I wouldn’t want to be responsible for making your business suffer.’
‘I’m hoping all this adrenaline you’re creating will make me function on a higher level; hopefully it will speed me up, lift my spirits as well as my business. Being around art helps too. If something captures my imagination, I’m completely fired up.’ Alberto stopped in the Piazza della Signoria, holding her near. He tilted his head and held her gaze for a few seconds. He stroked her face and pecked her lips gently before cupping her face. ‘I am flattered you want to spend time with me, but as soon as you’re ready, I would love my family to meet you too. I’ve already told them all about you.’
Olivia’s face drained of colour. This was too soon. ‘Well, I’m not ready yet.’
‘No, of course.’ He took her hand. ‘Come, we’re nearly there.’
The instant she walked in the door, a bouquet of herbs combined with tomato and cheese streamed to her nostrils. Peering around the high-beamed ceiling of what was a compact space, and noting a mixed display of old photographs and art on the wall, Olivia followed the waiter to a table at the rear of the Osteria Restaurant. It appeared to be the only free table, which she considered a good sign, observing the smiles and laughter around the small room. A light, warm aura danced in the air.
‘For you,’ the waiter sashayed before her, extending an arm out to a chair.
‘Grazie mille, Tommaso,’ Alberto said. ‘Magnifico.’
Right behind them another waiter appeared with two chilled glasses of sparkling Prosecco, which he placed on the table in front of them.
Tommaso handed them each a menu and expanded the choices with the night’s specials.
Olivia listened, trying to make up her mind from the delicious choices. Although relaxed and impressed by the intimate ambience of the restaurant, her limbs continued to tremble in Alberto’s presence and her stomach didn’t feel readily receptive to digestion.
Alberto lifted his glass as the waiter handed them their menus. ‘May I suggest the Osso buco.’ He kissed his bunched fingers. ‘The veal is braised with love and vegetables. It is amazing, especially with the local Chianti.’
‘Sounds wonderful, so long as I just have the zucchini salad starter and not pasta,’ she told Alberto, mesmerized by his hugely seductive eyes.
‘It’s an excellent choice,’ he said as the waiter took their order, then reaching out for her hand, he caressed her fingers. ‘Oh, you began to tell me about the furniture you want to restore. It sounds interesting.’
Trying to focus on his
