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‘So they’ve got you wrapped around their tiny fingers.’ She grinned. ‘I like that.’
‘It’s a special occasion.’ Mattia grinned back.
How to get Mattia wrapped around her finger? He was slowly—okay, not so slowly—getting under her skin, and it would be hard to fly away at the end of her stay. Did she have to go? As in not return? That seemed less likely by the day. Mattia had so much to lose by leaving Sorrento, while she could work anywhere. But what about her family? That was a question for another time.
When Elene glanced across the table, Sofia was smiling at her and Mattia with satisfaction. No, Sofia, we are not lovers, and chances are remote. Her stomach dived. Unfortunately. Just because he could kiss like the devil didn’t mean he’d ever follow it through, and there was more to a relationship than hot kisses that led to even hotter movements. Yes, but a relationship had to start somewhere and getting the bedroom stuff right was as good a place as any. Heat was crawling up her cheeks. Sitting at a table, surrounded by Mattia’s family, and she was thinking about sex with him.
A slug of wine did nothing to calm her; instead it went down the wrong way and she had to suffer the indignity of having Mattia gently slapping her back for the second time in two days. With a strong, warm—make that hot—hand. Oh, boy. She was in trouble. And it seemed everyone knew it, if the way they were all watching her and Mattia was any indication.
She took the glass of water he passed her and tried not to gulp it down.
Mattia came to her rescue. ‘Eat, everybody.’
Grateful for the laden dishes passing up and down the table, Elene spooned steaming food onto her plate, then when everyone was ready to eat hid behind enjoying the meal. With each mouthful she enjoyed it more and more, and relaxed muscle by muscle until finally her stomach gave up protesting and accepted every mouthful gratefully.
Mattia’s father leaned forward to get her attention. ‘You speak Italian like a native. Were you born here?’
Here we go. Question number one. She wasn’t counting Sofia’s attempts. ‘No, I’m a Kiwi.’ She was putting it out there so no one could say she’d tried to hide her true feelings of home. ‘My mother was born in Panzano, outside of Florence, and her family moved to New Zealand when she was two. She came back to Italy when she was eighteen, but returned home within a few months. She’s never been back.’ My dad adopted me when he married Mum, and I was fifteen months old. ‘I was brought up to speak both languages, and cook Italian and Kiwi food, and to spend many hours around the table talking about anything and everything.’
‘So your father’s a New Zealander?’
Her real father, not her biological one. ‘Dad’s great-great-grandfather came out to New Zealand from Britain, which is a common history for many New Zealanders. Irish, Scots, English, Welsh—we’re all mixed up.’ None of this had anything to do with anything.
‘I’d like to be fluent in more than one language,’ Sofia said around a mouthful of tortellini. ‘Maybe I should take lessons in Japanese.’
Everyone laughed. ‘You?’
Mattia explained to Elene, ‘Sofia’s a chef at one of Napoli’s top Italian cuisine restaurants, but that’s where her cooking talents stay.’
Maybe, but she had diverted everyone’s attention. Elene smiled across to her. Somehow, without any input on her behalf, she’d made a friend.
‘I was a chef. Now I’m a mum with another bambino on the way.’ She nodded across to Elene as she rubbed her tummy.
‘Thank you,’ Elene mouthed, and got up to help clear away the plates now that everyone had finished the main course.
‘You don’t have to do that. You’re a guest,’ Mattia’s mother said.
Exactly, and she didn’t like the role when she was trying to fit in. ‘At home we all knuckle down to help.’
‘Then you can put those dishes in the dishwasher.’ Maria had got the message, though Elene could see she wasn’t quite happy with it. Not yet, at any rate.
She began rinsing plates and looking through the large windows to the expansive vegetable gardens beyond. ‘Who looks after the gardens? They’re wonderful.’ The rows stretched as far as she could see, with every vegetable imaginable growing strong.
‘Mostly I do the vegetables. They’re my passion, for the cooking. Being able to eat what I produce is rewarding.’ There was pride in Maria’s voice.
‘My father always grows far too many vegetables because he doesn’t know where to stop, and the local charities are the winners, especially since he retired. As for the rest, it’s hit and miss who mows the lawns or weeds the flowerbeds.’
‘I can understand that. I’m lucky we have a permanent gardener for everything else.’
Mattia arrived between them with an armful of dirty plates. ‘These’ll keep you quiet for a while.’ He nudged Elene.
‘I could hand over to you,’ she retorted. ‘I know your mother taught you how to clean up. I’ve been in your kitchen, remember?’
His mother was watching them with that guarded expression once again in place. It was getting a little tiring.
‘Is there something in particular you’d like to ask me?’ Elene asked tightly.
The woman stared at her for a long moment, then nodded. ‘All right. Now’s as good a time as any. What do you want from my son?’
Like son, like mother. ‘Nothing other than to make it work for Aimee in a way that is agreeable to the three of us.’
‘Why didn’t you phone to tell Mattia about his daughter instead of arriving unannounced?’ Maria glanced at her son. ‘Yes, we presume that’s what happened even if you didn’t say so.’ Those sharp eyes returned to Elene. ‘You wanted to shock him? Show him how you could look after Aimee for him?’
‘Mamma.’
‘No, Mattia. We need to know you’re not being taken for a ride.’
The woman was protective of her son, as any good mother should be. Like Elene was trying to protect Aimee. ‘Signora Ricco, I am the messenger.’ Don’t shoot me. ‘Danielle asked that I bring Aimee to Italy without warning to meet her father, and at the time I promised to go along with her wish. She had her reasons, but I agree there were also better alternatives.’
‘So why not take one of them?’
‘I don’t break promises lightly. If at all.’ A quick glance at Mattia showed how invested in this conversation he’d become. Was this how they were going to break the ice about starting the process of planning the future? It was what she needed to happen. They all did. The how was irrelevant if it got them somewhere. A little explanation to Maria wouldn’t go amiss. ‘Danielle and I were best friends from the day we started our nursing training. We clicked immediately and there was nothing we couldn’t tell each other, and nothing either of us wouldn’t do to help the other.’ Hopefully, Mattia heard and truly understood everything. ‘I didn’t approve of Mattia as her lover. I thought he was using her. Danielle finally told me if anyone was using anyone it was her. She enjoyed Mattia’s company and the fact he didn’t want commitment.’ Which had hurt because she’d have wanted all of that with him when she’d admitted her lust for him.
The silence stretched out, Maria waiting not so patiently for her to continue. Mattia handed her a glass of water.
After taking a sip, she put it aside. ‘When Danielle learned she had cancer while pregnant there wasn’t much I wouldn’t have done for her.’ As his mother opened her mouth, Elene held up her hand. She needed to get this finished before her voice cracked up completely. ‘She asked me to be Aimee’s guardian. I couldn’t say no. Every child needs people in their lives to cherish and fight for them. She had no one else at home to do that for her daughter, and I’d do anything for my friend’s child.’ The last words were choked out over another lump that blocked her throat. ‘She insisted I tell Mattia only after she was gone.’
‘Why didn’t this Danielle tell Mattia hers
elf?’ Maria glared at her as if it was her fault.
‘She was afraid he’d come and take over with Aimee, and she wanted every moment she had left with her baby.’ A tear escaped, followed by another. Swiping at them with the back of her hand, she reached for the glass. She needed help here.
