When she entered the elevator to go down, she walked straight into Francesca.
‘There you are! What on earth took you so long?’ Francesca scolded the very second she clapped eyes on Antonietta, but then she must have regretted her tone, because she said, ‘Oh, Antonietta, I apologise. I forgot that Chi-Chi has been working there for the past couple of days. The place must have been in disarray.’
It was Antonietta who was in disarray, though. Had Rafe been suggesting something?
There was little she could pin on his words, and yet there had been a wicked edge in their delivery—she was almost sure of it.
But she’d had no experience with men.
Not good ones, anyway.
For all Sylvester’s attempts, his kisses and gropes had never, not once, made her feel the way that Rafe did with just his voice, just his eyes…
She was not only inexperienced in the kissing department, but in the flirting one too. And they had been flirting. Or was she romanticising things? Antonietta pondered as she went about her day. Certainly she was innocent, but she wasn’t naïve, and she knew from her work in other hotels that Rafe might have been suggesting ‘in-room service’, so to speak.
She managed a soft laugh at that thought, for if that were the case Rafe was certainly wide of the mark.
And yet he had buoyed her up in a way she could not properly explain…
RAFE HAD BUOYED her up. The day felt brighter for the time she had spent with him.
And the night felt not so long, nor as dark, and Antonietta awoke the next morning with delicious anticipation.
Yes, even the prospect of seeing Rafe buoyed her up.
So much so that she decided to stroll into the village and do her shopping before her shift started.
In so many ways it was wonderful to be back. As Antonietta had explained to Rafe, when she had left Silibri it had been after a summer of fierce wild fires and the mountains and trees had been charred and black.
In fact the village had been slowly dying even before she was born, with shops and cafés closing and the youth moving on. Now, though, with the monastery refurbished, there was new growth all around. The trees were lush and there were winter wild flowers lining the roads. The village itself was thriving. Its produce and wares were now in demand, and the cafés were busy and vibrant.
She had already done some of her Christmas shopping—as well as presents for her parents and brother there was a lipstick for Aurora, which she bought faithfully each year. Just because her friend was newly rich, and could afford a lifetime’s supply of the vibrant red cosmetic, some things never changed.
Some things did change, though. Aurora was married now, and so Antonietta bought some chocolate for Nico at one of the craft stalls in the village square. And not just any chocolate. Hand-made Modica chocolate, which was so exquisite that even a man who had everything could never have enough.
Bizarrely, she thought of Rafe.
Or perhaps not so bizarrely. Because she had been thinking of him on and off since the previous day. More accurately, he had been popping into her thoughts since the day they had met.
‘Could I get the coffee flavour, too, please?’ Antonietta said impulsively to the stallholder—and then jumped when she heard her name.
‘Antonietta?’
It was Pino.
‘Did I catch you buying me a gift?’ he teased, when he saw her reddening cheeks.
‘No, no…’ Antonietta smiled back and then glanced at his shopping bag, which was empty. She knew that Pino was just killing time. ‘Are you on a day off?’
‘Yes, though I thought you were working?’
‘Not till midday. But Francesca wants me to go in a little early. No doubt because of our esteemed guest.’ She felt her cheeks go a little more pink.
‘That’s probably it.’ Pino rolled his eyes. ‘I heard he has asked not to have Chi-Chi service his suite again.’
‘Really?’ Antonietta’s eyes widened. ‘Why?’
‘I thought you didn’t like to gossip?’ Pino teased.
‘I don’t,’ Antonietta said, and hurriedly changed the subject. ‘Now, I have to choose two presents for Gabe—it is his first birthday next week, and then Christmas too.’
Pino was delighted to help, and soon they had a little wooden train for him, as well as a cute outfit, and Pino suggested they go for coffee.
‘I don’t have time,’ Antonietta said, which wasn’t quite true.
The sweet, spicy scent of buccellato—an Italian Christmas cake—wafted through a nearby café, and though she was tempted Antonietta was too nervous about bumping into her family to stop there for coffee and cake.
Instead, having said goodbye to Pino, she decided that she would bake her own, and headed into the village store. There she chose the figs and almonds that she needed to make the cake, and added a few other things to her basket before lining up to pay.
The shopkeeper was awkward with her, and did not make eye contact—and then Antonietta found out why.
‘Stronza!’
The insult came from behind, and Antonietta did not need to turn her head to know that the word was aimed at her. She had been called worse on previous trips to the shops. Steadfastly, she did not turn around, and though she was tempted to walk out without her groceries, she held her ground.
Another insult was hurled. ‘Puttana!’
They all assumed there must have been another man for her to have run out on Sylvester, or that she had been sleeping with all and sundry in her years away.
Let them think what they choose, Antonietta told herself as she paid.
But as she picked up her bag she saw that it was Sylvester’s aunt who was taunting her.
Antonietta said nothing. She just did her best to leave with her head held high—or not quite high, but nor was she head down and fleeing as she had previously. She was determined not to let the incident ruin her day.
But it was about to get worse.
Her parents were walking arm in arm towards her, and both were startled when they saw her.
‘Mamma!’ Antonietta called.
But together they looked away and crossed to the other side of the street. For Antonietta it was a new version of hell. That they should cross the road to avoid her was not only painful and humiliating, it made her angry too, and hurt words tumbled out.
‘I tried to tell you, Mamma!’
Her voice was strangled then, but the words were true, for she had tried to reveal her fears about Sylvester to her mother. Antonietta watched as Tulia Ricci’s shoulders stiffened. She stopped walking, and slowly turned around.
‘You know I tried to tell you.’
‘Antonietta.’ Her father spoke then. ‘What are you doing back here?’
And as she saw his cold expression she wondered the very same thing.
It was Antonietta who walked off, refusing to cry.
Even at the hotel she felt an anger