Whisked Away by Her Sicilian Boss Read online

  Rudy.

  Put a stamp on this and send it airmail immediately.

  Many thanks,

  Cesare.

  His attorney was the soul of discretion and always did what he was told without question. When Cesare had addressed the mailing envelope, he paid the clerk who put it in the slot. Before long it would be on its way to Bridgetown. The comte needed to receive it ASAP. Cesare knew in his gut the other man would start a search for his fiancée.

  She was a prize. No one knew that better than Cesare. His thoughts wandered. Not every man would be worthy of her love when she had an ancestry that had made her unique in the world. Certainly not Cesare, whose family tree might as well have half a trunk missing. What could a fatherless man bring to a marriage with a princess?

  Depressed by his thoughts, he returned to the limo and told the driver to take him back to the pensione. It was the same apartment where Vincenzo’s wife Gemma had once stayed when she’d come from Florence to the castello for an interview. The padrona could be trusted.

  By the time the limo pulled up in front, Cesare had made up his mind to send Tuccia to the States in the morning. The police wouldn’t find her there and he could put her out of his mind. She was on it too much already.

  He got out to the pay the driver, then walked to the front door of her apartment and knocked loud enough for her to hear. “Tuccia? It’s Cesare. May I come in?”

  “You haven’t left for Palermo yet?” she called out in surprise. “I’ll be right there.”

  In less than a minute she opened the door in bare feet, dressed in the yellow silk robe she’d worn in the middle of the night. He could smell the peach shampoo she’d used to wash her hair. She had a brush in one hand and had been styling her naturally curly black hair.

  The sight of such natural beauty would make any man go weak in the knees. Cesare was no exception. “I had a call from my mother and have been forced to change my plans.”

  “Uh-oh.” Anxiety marred her features. He knew what she was thinking.

  “Forgive me for making you stand there. Please come in.”

  Her faultless manners impressed him. “Thank you.” He walked in the little living room off the kitchen.

  She eyed him nervously. “Did the police interrogate her already? Is she in terrible trouble?” Tuccia put the hand not holding the brush to her heart. “Bertina should never have involved your mother and I shouldn’t have listened to her.”

  “So far everything is all right. The police talked to your aunt who told them she knew nothing. I’m sure my mother will be next, but she’ll have no information, either. They both received your letters.”

  “I’m so glad. Then why have you changed your plans? I don’t understand. But before you tell me, let me get dressed. Please sit down. I’ll only be a minute.”

  He chose the chair by the coffee table while she rushed to her bedroom. Cesare caught a fleeting glimpse of her long shapely legs beneath the flap of her robe before she disappeared. He was growing more enamored of her by the second.

  How could it be that after all the years of working with attractive businesswomen, he found himself in trouble just being in her presence for a few hours total. Along with her attributes, her utter femininity blew him away. It was a good thing she’d be gone tomorrow so there’d be no temptation to spend any extra time with her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  IN NO TIME Tuccia reappeared wearing a pair of white slacks and sandals toned with a café-au-lait-and-white print short-sleeved top. She sat on the end of the couch with one leg tucked under her. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “As you know, the Sicilian pastry chef I’d planned to hire is in the hospital. But there’s no telling when he’ll be well enough to work again. Mamma found out he has developed an unexpected heart condition. I had high hopes for him. With his exciting creations, he would have brought a new clientele to our ristorante. Except for my mother’s cooking, there’s no one to equal him.”

  Tuccia sat forward with a troubled look on her lovely face. “My zia says she’s the most superb cook in all Sicily. That means she has to know what she is talking about. What will you do?”

  “Since I’m in charge of the ristorante at the castello, I’m the only one who has the authority to fix the problem. In an emergency, there are times when you have to do it yourself.”

  Her eyes widened. “You mean you’re going to be the pastry chef?”

  “It’ll be nothing new to me while I find someone else. But right now I’m concerned 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 ho
spital 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 you—provided you gave me a good one if I deserved it—I could find a position in any country.”

  He could hear her mind working. It was going like a house on fire. To his astonishment he was listening to her because she was making a strange kind of sense.

  “After a half year in hiding, I’m positive my family will have disowned me so it wouldn’t matter where I chose to live and work. I’d be a normal woman with a good job.”

  “You’ll never be a normal woman, Principessa.” his voice grated. Nor would he want her to be. He liked her exactly the way she was. “Can you honestly sit there and tell me the thought of being disowned doesn’t pain you?”

  She lowered her head. “I guess I don’t know how I’d feel about it until it happened. But what I do know is that I’m never going to bow to my parents’ wishes again. Hopefully before long Jean-Michel will have comforted himself with another mistress while he hunts for a new titled princess to marry.”

  Cesare rubbed the back of his neck, unable to believe he was actually toying with the idea of teaching her the rudiments. In a perfect world, if she did follow through and did learn how to cook, it would give her the independence she’d never known. It would allow her to earn money and she’d be free to make her own choices, something that had been denied her from birth.

  At some point in time she’d decide to get in touch with her parents, or not. He couldn’t believe he was allowing his thoughts to go this far.

  Quiet reigned before she said, “I know what you’re thinking. I don’t have any money right now to pay you to teach me. But if I were a good student and could work at the castello, you wouldn’t have to pay me any money. Not ever! I’m already indebted to you for your sacrifice. It would be my gift to you for saving my life.”

  The last was said in a trembling voice. It was the wobble that did it to him.

  “Are you a fast learner?” Cesare knew she was grateful. He didn’t want her to go on begging for the chance to repay him. Her willingness to take a risk of these proportions made her a breed apart from anyone he’d ever known.

  She stared at him with those heavenly gray eyes. “I guess that depends on the subject matter, but I graduated with honors in European history.”

  “Congratulations, Tuccia. That’s no small feat. But to make a pastry chef out of you... I don’t know.”

  “You’re right. It’s too much to ask and I’d probably be a disaster.”

  He didn’t like the discouraged tone of her voice and it made up his mind for him. “Maybe not.”

  A gasp escaped her lips. “You mean you’re willing to entertain the idea?”

  Her excitement put a stranglehold on him. “Let’s just say I’ll put you on probation for a few days and see how it goes.”

  “You’re not teasing me?” she cried.

  “No. I wouldn’t do that. Not about this.”

  He could tell she was fighting tears. “When would I start?”

  “As soon as we’ve eaten dinner.”

  “So soon? Aren’t you exhausted after everything you’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours?”

  Her question stunned him because her first thought had been for him. He could have asked the same of her after being on the run.

  “Not at all.” In fact he’d never been so wired in his life.

  “Does that mean we’re going up to the castello right now?”

  He stood up. “No. This pensione is going to be your home, your school room and your lab. You’ll do everything hands-on right here. After a few days I’ll decide if I can turn you into the next executive pastry chef at the Castello Supremo Hotel and Ristorante di Lombardi. Otherwise I’ll put you on the plane for New York.”

  Tuccia let out an incredulous cry of joy and she jumped to her feet. She rushed over to him and put a hand on his arm. The contact sent a shock through him. His awareness of her made it hard to breathe.

  “You mean it? You’re not joking? But you just said you weren’t joking. I’m sorry, but I just can’t believe you’re willing to give me a chance.”

  “Everyone deserves a chance.” He looked her in the eye, trying to get a grip on his emotions. “What fake name were you going to use when you applied for the greenhouse job in Catania?”

  His question made her blink, and she let go of him. “Come on,” he prodded her. “You’ve obviously had one in mind for a long time.”

  “Not the same one my zia used to charter that p
lane for me. I guess... Nedda Bottaro.”

  “Nedda? The heroine in the opera Pagliacci?”

  “Yes. I love opera and Pagliacci is one of my favorites.”

  “But Nedda meets such a cruel end.”

  “I know. She and Carmen suffered the same fate. I always cry.”

  Cesare heard pain in her voice. “Why use the last name Bottaro?”

  “It means a wine cask maker. There’d be no connection to any of my family names.”

  He nodded. “Wise decision. If I deem you a promising pupil, we’ll go with both when I introduce you to my partners. I’ll tell them I stole you from the finest ristorante in Palermo.”

  She rubbed her hands against womanly hips in a nervous gesture. “How soon will that happen?”

  “Not for a while. I’ll have to teach you a lot first, and quickly, too. After dinner we’ll start with something simple. I’ll take a taxi to the grocery store and get the needed ingredients. While I’m at it, I’ll buy you a new Pay as You Go phone to reach me if you need to and program it. By the time you go to bed, you’ll be able to make the recipe I have in mind in your sleep.”

  She paced the floor, then wheeled around in front of him. “If I can pass your tests, that means I’ll be making desserts for hundreds of people a week.”

  “That’s right. Kings, sheikhs, presidents of countries.”

  Her radiating smile illuminated those hidden places in his soul that had never seen light. That thought appeared to delight her.

  “You’ll have assistants to help you.”

  “But I don’t look anything like a chef.”

  No. She didn’t look like anyone else in the whole wide world. “You will after we dress you properly. When I bring my partners to the kitchen to introduce you, no one will ever guess you’re Princess Tuccianna.”

  Her cheeks had grown becomingly flushed. “I want to be good enough to meet your standards. You’ll never know what this means to me.”

  He was beginning to. While she stood there, Cesare phoned for a taxi. After he hung up, he turned to her. “I’m starving and am going out to pick up a meal for us after I shop. When I get back, we’ll get started.”