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“So am I.”
“I feel very honored you would share that much with me. Maybe later you’ll share more.”
“There is no more.”
“Oh, yes there is.” Before he could countenance it, she raised up on tiptoe and pressed a brief kiss to his cheek. Then she quietly moved the chair over to the table and walked back in the house with her empty cup.
He stood at the railing for a long time, realizing he needed to call the doctor. The hospital had arranged for him to see one in Solerno for a checkup and more medication.
Maybe fifteen minutes passed before he heard her car pull out of the driveway. A new sense of emptiness stole through him. He disliked the fact that she was the cause of it. Why this woman? She’s getting to you, Cavezzali. Diavolo!
You fool, Annabelle.
As he’d said, this morning she’d had to go to a place even the angels knew to avoid! Now she’d forced Lucca to open up in ways he might resent her for later. Oh she hoped not! But even if he did, this had been a major step for him to start the healing process.
How would Guilio respond when Lucca faced him? His son’s injury would pain him. The fact that Lucca hadn’t told him he was back yet would pain him. She knew that. It pained her. She was in pain for Lucca.
He hadn’t told her everything. The vision of what he’d held back sent a shudder through her body because she’d seen and heard part of it already during his flashback. She marveled that he’d survived and she was absolutely in awe of his instinct for self-preservation.
That was the problem. At this point she felt an affection for both men that ran deep. She wanted to help, but it wasn’t her place.
She would love to blame this whole situation on Guilio. He’d related so many happy memories of his first wife and their endearing, handsome son, she’d been curious about Lucca long before meeting him.
Her guilt deepened because she hadn’t told him the exact nature of her work for his father. He was too intelligent a man not to know she’d been less than forthcoming. Yet unlike her, he hadn’t forced the situation out in the open yet, but it was probably only a matter of time.
Fortunately she had a new place to stay and would move there after work. If she ever got there … The traffic in Amalfi was horrendous. She needed all her powers of concentration.
Thanks to the map and specific directions Guilio had provided after settling her at the farmhouse, she found the Hotel Europa overlooking the Piazza Sant’Andrea. Their parking garage had never been more welcome. If her employer hadn’t set everything up ahead of time for this special photo shoot, it couldn’t have happened, not here in this crowded tourist mecca.
“Ah, you’ve arrived—” Guilio met her in the foyer and swept her up the stairs to a suite on the next floor.
“I’m not late, am I?”
“No, but Marcella needs more time.”
“Why?”
“When I saw the proofs taken in Rome, I was so elated with the outcome, I decided we would substitute a wedding dress for the businesswoman’s suit layout planned for today’s shoot. She brought several of her own bridal creations. We need to see you in all of them before a final decision is made.”
Annabelle didn’t mind trying on the various signature outfits meant for someone else. Her own wedding was past history. She’d been there and done that, except her bride’s dress hadn’t been a gown like one of these $50,000 selections.
The whole crew gathered round to give input. Each rendition was breathtaking in its own way. “Ah,” they all cried when she donned the last one of filmy silk and lace.
“That’s it!” Guilio declared, voicing his approval above the others.
Giovanni squinted at her before turning to the hairdresser. “Let her hair flow like a maiden’s. It will make the most of the mantilla. I’ll arrange it after we’re outside.”
With those words everyone went to work on her. Marcella told one of the assistants to carry the matching high heels out to the piazza, where Annabelle would put them on. For the final touch she wore a dazzling diamond choker and matching diamond earrings. When all was ready and her makeup perfect, she left the room in her sandals and they went down the stairs with the assistants, who carried the long lace train.
People in the packed hotel foyer started clapping. It grew louder as she moved out the doors into the piazza, where she was met with more oohs and aahs. Police had cordoned off the area where a gleaming, flame-red Amalfi convertible sports car stood parked at the base of the ancient staircase. The famed fourteenth century cathedral of Saint Andrew awaited at the top.
Guilio must have seen her expression. “We won’t ask you to climb all sixty-two steps.”
She laughed to cover her gulp.
Once Giovanni had arranged the floor-length lac
e mantilla to his liking and she’d stepped into the high heels, he announced he was ready. Leaning close he whispered, “When his son sees this picture, he’ll run off with the bellissima Amalfi Girl. Every woman on the coast will mourn the loss of the sought-after Cavezzali bachelor.”
