Rafe had clearly meant what he’d said about not wanting to be disturbed.
At the end of her shift, as she walked back to her little cottage, Antonietta found she was glancing up in the direction of the August Suite. It was too far away for her to tell if he was on the balcony, but she wondered about him, wondered how he had spent his day and how he was.
For the first time ever Antonietta truly wondered about a man…
THE CHRISTMAS ROSTER was definitely the main topic of conversation over the next couple of days.
Antonietta was training in the Oratory, which was unusually quiet, but whenever she entered the staffroom it was all that was being discussed.
‘It’s not fair,’ Chi-Chi huffed. ‘Even Greta has got Christmas off and she only started three months ago.’
‘She has children, though,’ Antonietta pointed out.
‘How come you are off, Vincenzo?’
‘Because I live in Florence, and if I am to spend any time with my family then I need adequate time to get there.’
‘But it is the Old Monastery’s first Christmas,’ Chi-Chi said. ‘Surely the head of PR should be here and tweeting…or whatever it is you do.’
‘I do rather more than play on my phone,’ Vincenzo said, and then looked to Antonietta. ‘How are things in the Oratory?’
‘Quiet…’ Antonietta sighed as she peeled the lid off a yoghurt. ‘It’s fully booked for next week, but the place was dead yesterday and it’s almost empty today. I think people must be saving up their treatments for Christmas.’
She looked up as Francesca came to the door.
‘Ah, there you are Antonietta. Could I ask you to service Signor Dupont’s suite? I know you are meant to be doing your training in the Oratory today—’
‘Of course,’ Antonietta said, and went to get up.
‘Finish your lunch first,’ Francesca said. ‘He has asked that it be serviced at one o’clock.’
‘I’m glad she asked you and not me,’ Chi-Chi said, the very second Francesca had gone. ‘I’ve been working there the past couple of days, and he might be important, but he’s also mean.’
‘Mean?’ Antonietta frowned.
‘He told me to refrain from speaking while I do my work.’
‘Well, I expect he has a headache,’ Antonietta said, without adding that she certainly did when Chi-Chi was around.
Vincenzo looked at the time and then stood and brushed off his suit, smoothing his already immaculate red hair in the mirror before heading back.
‘For someone so vain, you’d think he would have noticed that he’s putting on weight,’ Chi-Chi said the moment he was gone. ‘His jacket doesn’t even do up any more.’
‘Leave him alone,’ Antonietta snapped.
But Chi-Chi would not, and carried on with her grumbling. ‘He’s only got Christmas off because he’s a manager.’
‘No.’ Antonietta shook her head. ‘Francesca is working. I’d better go.’
‘But you’ve barely sat down.’
She was happy to get up. Antonietta was more than a little bit fed up with Chi-Chi’s rather grating nature.
‘I need to get the linen ready to take up to the August Suite.’
Fetching the linen was one of Antonietta’s favourite tasks. Here at the Old Monastery the linen was tailor-made for each bed and was washed and line dried without a hint of bleach.
Antonietta breathed in the scent of fresh laundry as she walked in. Vera, who worked there, must be on her lunch, so Antonietta selected crisp linen and then walked across the stunning grounds.
A guest who had just arrived that morning had told her that it had been raining and grey in Rome when they’d left. Here, though, the sky was blue, and it was a little brisk and chilly, with cold nights.
The guard checked her ID and actually addressed her. ‘He will be back by two, so please make sure you are done and out by then.’
‘Certainly.’
Given that it took well over an hour to service the August Suite to standard, guests often went for a stroll, or down to the Oratory for a treatment, or to the restaurant while the maids worked. Usually she was relieved when the guests were out, but today she felt a stab of disappointment that she chose not to dwell on.
Of course she knocked before entering anyway, and when there was no answer she let herself in and stood for a moment, looking around. The place was a little chaotic, and she was wondering where to start when someone came in from the balcony.
Certainly she had not been expecting to see him.
‘Buongiorno,’ she said, and then immediately lost her tongue, for Rafe was dressed in black running shorts and nothing else.
‘Buongiorno.’ He returned the greeting, barely looking over. ‘I’ll be out of your way soon,’ he added.
Indeed, Rafe had fully intended to go for a run—his first since the accident. But now he glanced over and recognised the maid from the fog of his first morning here. ‘You’ve had some days off?’
‘No,’ Antonietta said. ‘I haven’t had any days off.’
‘So why did they send me Chi-Chi?’ he drawled, and rolled his eyes.
Antonietta almost smiled, but quickly recovered, because even if Chi-Chi drove her insane she would not discuss her colleague with a guest. Instead she answered as she headed into the bedroom. ‘I’ve been working in the Oratory.’
She paused for a second to let him speak, as she should any guest, but truly she wanted to flee, for her cheeks were on fire and she hoped that he had not noticed. He did not reply.
‘I hope you have a pleasant day,’ she said.
‘Thank you.’
Antonietta put down the list that she always worked from and immediately started stripping the vast walnut bed. She worked quickly, but the exertion was less out of necessity and more to match her heartbeat, which had tripped into a rapid rhythm at the sight of him semi-naked. And when he came into the bedroom to collect his trainers she had to force herself not to look—or rather not to stand there and simply gape.
‘You work in the Oratory?’ he checked. ‘So you are a therapist?’
His voice caught her unawares; for she had not expected the terse gentleman she had met a few days ago to initiate a conversation.
‘I’m training to be one,’ Antonietta said, and glanced up from the bed.
And then it ceased being a glance, for she met his eyes and the world and its problems seemed for a moment to disappear.
‘You look better,’ she commented, when usually she would not, but the words had just tumbled out.
‘I’m feeling a lot better,’ he agreed. ‘Although I still look as if I’ve been paint-bombed.’
She couldn’t help but smile, for indeed he did. Those bruises were a riot of colour