Italian Romance Read online

  ITALIAN ROMANCE

  A Roman Summer

  Neapolitan Encounter

  By Jayne Castel

  All characters and situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

  Italian Romance by Jayne Castel

  Copyright © 2012 Jayne Castel. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Edited by Tim Burton.

  Cover photography courtesy of www.istockphotos.com

  Cover design by Jayne Castel.

  Visit Jayne’s website and blog: www.jaynecastel.com

  Follow Jayne on Twitter at: https://twitter.com/JayneCastel

  A ROMAN SUMMER

  By Jayne Castel

  Kay Starling winced as the heel of her strappy sandal caught in between two cobbles and her ankle twisted. Her trolley suitcase lurched to a standstill beside her, sitting awkwardly on the unevenly cobbled street.

  It was mid-July and Rome was slowly baking. The heat rose off the cobblestones in suffocating waves. A jumble of yellow, ochre and cream buildings loomed overhead. Their earthy shades contrasted against a hard strip of blue sky.

  Rome was deserted. Only fools and tourists were out in the blistering midday heat. Kay pulled her blouse away from her sweat-soaked back and consulted her map. Trastevere, Rome’s old workers’ quarter, across the river from the historic centre, was a labyrinth of twisting cobbled lanes. Her hotel was in an alleyway somewhere in the heart of the labyrinth, and if she was reading the map correctly, it was only a block away. Kay continued on and minutes later turned left into a narrow lane covered with ivy. Up ahead her hotel loomed: L’Albergo Gelsomina.

  Finally.

  Kay was about to wilt. Her home town of Wellington, New Zealand, had mild summers and she wasn’t used to fighting against a wall of heat. It was easily pushing forty degrees here. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to put up with this inferno.

  Not for the first time, Kay regretted coming to Rome. She wasn’t here for pleasure. If she had wanted a holiday, she would have chosen a milder, less aggressive location closer to home. Kay Starling was not an adventurer. She had spent most of her twenty-nine years making sure her life was comfortable and safe. Her older sister, Melissa, was the fiery one – and it was Melissa who had brought her to Italy.

  Right now Kay was bitterly resenting her sister. If Melissa had been standing next to her she would have gotten a tongue lashing. Melissa had suggested meeting Kay at the airport and had offered Kay her couch to sleep on. However, Kay was still so annoyed at her sister she had refused both offers. She would make her own way into the centre and she would find her own accommodation. She didn’t need Melissa’s help.

  Fuming as she thought about her sister, Kay jabbed the intercom. Seconds later, it crackled into life and a man’s voice queried.

  “Si?”

  “Er, hello…I’m Kay Starling. I have a room booked for five nights.”

  “Si, Signorina Starling. Prego!”

  Not understanding a word the man had uttered, Kay didn’t know how to reply. She stood back from the intercom and was relieved when the gate unlocked with a well-oiled clunk. Kay walked inside and the gate clanged shut behind her. She pulled her trolley across the ivy-draped courtyard to the reception.

  A man about the same age as her was waiting in the doorway. He was swarthy and slender with a mop of black hair and a cheeky grin.

  “Signorina Starling!” he repeated, “I am Piero. I take your case. Please enter!”

  “Thanks,” Kay followed him into a cramped reception area. A small fan was working over-time in one corner, blowing hot, humid air around the room. The heat didn’t appear to bother Piero, who looked cool and crisp in well-fitting jeans and a white linen shirt. He handed her a check-in form to fill in and took Kay’s passport before handing her a heavy key.

  “Second floor,” he smiled and held her gaze for long enough to make Kay feel a blush rise up her neck. “Number 15. There is a lift next to stairs inside the entrance.”

  “Fine,” Kay mumbled, pushing the completed form back across the counter. “Are there any messages for me?”

  “Ah si!” Piero smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand in a dramatic fashion, “I forget! A Signor Falcone leave a message for you this morning. He meet you here at four o’clock today.”

  Kay looked at her watch. It was 12:30pm - that would give her time to have a shower and rest. She tried to forget that it was just past midnight in New Zealand. It was better to trick her body into thinking otherwise.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking the key.

  “In Italy we say ‘grazie’,” Piero corrected.

  “Er…grassi,” Kay attempted, feeling her face flame.

  “No…grazzzeeaaay,” he insisted, deadly earnest.

  “Grazzzeeaaay,” Kay repeated and was rewarded with a beaming smile.

  “Brava!”

  Escaping Piero, Kay went back into the courtyard and passed under an archway. Worn marble stairs curled upstairs but with her cumbersome suitcase Kay decided to take the rickety lift up instead. It was an ancient iron contraption reminiscent of those she’d seen in old horror films. The lift wheezed its way up to the second floor and Kay was relieved when it jolted to a stop and she was able to squeeze out. Number 15 was at the end of the corridor.

  Kay unlocked the door to her room, stepped inside and gasped. Despite her tiredness, grumpiness and stress, the beauty of the room held her in its thrall for a few moments. It was painted custard yellow and had a huge green shuttered window at one end and gauzy white curtains. A door led through to a tiny bathroom, done in pink and white tiles and gleaming porcelain. A large, wrought-iron bed dominated the room with a white, embroidered bed-spread. A fan slowly rotated overhead. It was the sort of room a honey-mooning couple would hole-up in, she thought wistfully; an oasis from the rest of the world. However, the thought of a honey-moon brought her thoughts to weddings, and the reason she had put her busy life on hold and flown to the other-side of the world.

  Melissa.

  The room’s magic lost its hold and Kay thumped her trolley suitcase down. She sat on the edge of the bed and felt the tension that had kept her running for the past twenty-four hours drain out of her. What the hell am I doing here? She thought hollowly. Why do I care so much if Melissa wants to ruin her life and run out on her responsibilities? However, Kay could not answer her own question. Despite that she usually approached all things with calm, careful consideration, her decision to get on a plane and fly to Rome had been instinctive and she did not have the mental energy to analyze it. Right now, the only thing she cared about was a cool shower and a soft bed. The rest could wait till later.

  ***

  Rome still smoldered three and a half hours later when Kay slipped on a flat pair of pumps and surveyed her reflection in the mirror. Her face was still flushed and sweaty from the heat but after a shower and a nap, she was at least presentable. Her long auburn hair had curled in the humidity so Kay had tied it back from her face. Makeup would melt until her skin acclimatized so she had settled for a flick of mascara and a slick of lip-gloss instead of her usual routine. Her eyes seemed a deeper green in the heat – almost as dark as her sister’s. Melissa had startling emerald eyes whereas Kay's eyes were the color of crème de menthe.

  Kay dressed simply, and non-provocatively, in a cotton A-line skirt and blouse. Already, on the journey in from the airport she had noticed the high testosterone levels of Italian men. The lingering glances, rude stares and whispered comments. She wanted to give them as l
ittle to harass her about as possible. Such aggressive male attention made her uncomfortable. She preferred to be left alone.

  Glancing once more at her watch, Kay picked up her bag and made her way downstairs to reception. Piero, the flirty receptionist was still there, as was a new man.

  Signor Falcone.

  The men were talking and neither of them noticed Kay approach. As such, she had the opportunity to observe the man who had stolen her sister from a loving fiancé and a happy life in New Zealand.

  He wasn’t what she’d expected.

  Kay had imagined someone who looked more like Piero - more stereotypically Italian with olive-skin, raven hair, patrician features and a lithe-build. Instead, this man was tall and well-built with bronzed skin and a mop of wavy, sun-streaked brown hair. He was unmistakably Italian however. Already Kay had noticed Italian men carried themselves with supreme self-confidence. Like Piero, he was dressed casually but with an innate sense of fashion in well-fitting jeans and t-shirt.

  On hearing her approach, Vincenzo Falcone turned from his conversation with Piero and fixed Kay in an intense, hazel-eyed gaze.

  Kay’s step faltered and her stomach see-sawed. Then shame washed over her in a hot tide. Where had such a primal reaction come from? She never responded to men this way. Ever. To think her sister’s Italian lover affected her like this made Kay’s stomach lurch.

  Yet again, she regretted her decision to come to Rome.

  Their gazes held for a few moments before Kay ripped hers away. When she looked back, Vincenzo Falcone was still staring at her, his face stern as if he disapproved.

  “Mr Falcone.” Kay greeted him, hoping to echo the right amount of cold disapproval.

  “Yes, and you must be Kay Starling” he replied. His voice was low and musical, his English lightly accented, “I’m Alessandro Falcone, my brother couldn’t meet you and sent me in his place.”

  Relief flooded through Kay – although being attracted to the brother of the sleaze who had seduced her sister was only marginally better than being attracted to the creep himself. Her surprise and relief obviously showed on her face because Alessandro Falcone raised an eyebrow.

  “Sorry to have robbed you of the opportunity to abuse my brother but don’t worry, you’ll be able to soon enough.”

  Kay felt her face heat up. She hadn't realised she was so blatantly obvious. She just hoped he had not seen her reaction when their eyes had met for the first time. She made a silent promise to herself to be very careful with this man. He saw too much, and such people were dangerous.

  “I’m taking you to the apartment Melissa and Vincenzo are renting,” Alessandro informed her, “It’s in the south of Rome, about fifteen minutes from here. Let’s go.”

  Alessandro said goodbye to Piero and strode out of reception. Kay reluctantly followed.

  “Ciao!” Piero chorused after her, “a presto Kay!”

  Outside on the narrow lane a shiny silver Vespa waited. Alessandro handed her a helmet, put on his own and standing astride the Vespa, pushed it off its stand.

  “Get on,” he ordered.

  “We’re going on this?” Kay’s voice rose in horror. She had never been on the back of a motorbike or scooter and didn’t intend to start now. “But I’m wearing a skirt!”

  He glanced over his shoulder and looked her up and down dismissively, “it’s not short. You’ll be fine. Get on.”

  His tone brooked no argument. Kay’s first impulse was to refuse but something in the judgmental way he’d looked at her made her hold her tongue. She’d show him. Kay climbed on behind, adjusted her skirt and made sure her feet were placed on the footrests provided.

  “Hold on,” Alessandro gunned the engine. The puttering sound of the 50cc engine roaring to life echoed off the surrounding walls and deafened Kay. Didn’t they have noise pollution laws in this country? Kay gingerly held on either side of Alessandro’s waist and gripped fiercely as the Vespa took off.

  They rocketed down the alley and turned left onto a slightly wider street. There were more people about than earlier in the day – tourists licking rapidly melting gelati, locals riding about on bicycles and old ladies walking their dogs. Alessandro expertly maneuvered the Vespa in and out of the meandering crowd and crossed a busy intersection with a coffee bar in its center. Tourists lounged outside the bar, drinking in the sun over tall glasses of iced tea. Alessandro and Kay zipped past the bar and into a dark, narrow street. Moments later, they reached the river and turned right, joining a throng of honking traffic.

  Kay was terrified. Her jaw was clamped down so hard her temples were aching and she gripped on for dear life.

  “Mamma mia!” Alessandro shouted as they stopped at the traffic lights, “you’re going to give me internal injuries if you grip any tighter! Hold on like this.” Before Kay could protest he un-pried her fingers and pulled her arms around him so they were wrapped around his waist. Now her body was pressed up against his. His heat radiated against hers.

  This was far too intimate. Kay was mortified but Alessandro appeared unconcerned. It took all his concentration to maneuver the Vespa through the mayhem. Moments later Kay had also reassessed her priorities.

  Kay had never seen traffic like it. It was utterly undisciplined. Everyone was driving small cars with dents in them. There were no lanes; people just wedged their car in where they found a space and scooters buzzed through the centre of it all like demented wasps. Intersections were the worst. Cars edged across at the amber light and got stuck in the centre of the road when the traffic lights turned red, causing a chorus of enraged horns from the oncoming traffic. Kay was terrified and couldn’t imagine how people managed to endure such chaos every day. She clung round Alessandro’s waist – no longer caring about the embarrassment of such forced intimacy.

  They hugged the river for a while south before crossing it and joining an even busier road. It was a still, sultry afternoon and the heat rose off the street in shimmering waves. The only thing pleasant for Kay about being on a scooter was the air fanning her face as they bumped down potholed roads. Her light clothes already felt drenched in sweat.

  They eventually left the cobbled streets behind, and with them the renaissance facades. Newer buildings loomed overhead and television antennas and satellite dishes bristled against the skyline. If anything, the suburbs were even busier than the centre and many streets were crammed, end-to-end with tiny shops. There was so much life, so much energy.

  Alessandro finally stopped the scooter in front of a high dove-grey building. It was a solid, no nonsense structure that looked as if it had been built during the Fascist era. Kay let go of Alessandro’s waist and staggered off the Vespa as elegantly as she could manage. She pulled off her helmet and handed it to Alessandro. She wasn’t about to thank him for the ride. She was frankly amazed they’d made it to their destination.

  “This way,” Alessandro locked up the bike.

  Wordlessly Kay followed Alessandro into the building where they were buzzed up. Stony silence filled the lift as they travelled up to the third floor. Alessandro had nothing to say and Kay couldn’t think of anything to say to him. He obviously lacked the art of small talk.

  Melissa was waiting on the landing when the doors opened.

  “Kay, Kay!” Melissa launched herself at her younger sister and embraced Kay in a bear-hug. “So pleased you could make it hun – at least someone in the family is still talking to me!”

  “Although I’m not sure how much longer I will be,” Kay muttered but Melissa ignored her. Clucking like a mother hen, Melissa ushered Kay into the apartment. Alessandro reluctantly followed.

  The apartment was tiny, consisting of little more than a miniscule corridor, a cramped living area with a corner kitchen and a small bedroom and bathroom off to one side. French doors led out to a narrow balcony. The aroma of sautéing garlic and tomatoes filled the small space. A man was standing at the stove cooking. He was a younger, slighter version of the man who had ungraciously brought Kay her
e.

  “Vinnie!” Melissa called, “come meet my baby sister!”

  Vincenzo Falcone hurried across and shook her hand enthusiastically, greeting Kay with a warm smile. “Piacere Kay. Madonna! You look so much like your sister!”

  “The similarity ends there I’m sure Kay will tell you,” Melissa laughed, “I may be the oldest but Kay here is the ‘sensible’ one.”

  “You make it sound like a fault,” Kay mumbled but no one appeared to hear her.

  “Alessandro,” Vincenzo beckoned to his brother, “ma rimani per cena anche tu?

  “No,” Alessandro replied, before speaking in rapid Italian to his brother. A heated exchange followed with a lot of hand gesturing. Finally Alessandro threw up his hands in submission. Victorious, Vincenzo grinned and turned to Kay and Melissa.

  “Good. He’s staying to dinner.”

  Was that all? Kay would have thought from the way they were speaking they were about to have a massive falling out. She wasn’t used to such exuberant, volatile people. What a pity Alessandro was staying to dinner - she’d been hoping to find another means of transport back to her hotel and rid herself of his surly presence.

  Vincenzo poured them flutes of prosecco, a dry sparkling white wine, and they sat under an umbrella on the balcony. The searing midday heat had abated and a stand of umbrella pines next to the building provided shade. Kay took a sip of her wine and ran a scrutinizing eye over her sister. She hated to admit it but Melissa looked fabulous. Her pale, freckled skin was tanned a light gold and her wavy, shoulder-length auburn hair had sun-streaks in it. But more than just physical well-being, Melissa Starling radiated contentment and calm. Kay had never seen Melissa like this. Back in New Zealand, Melissa, like Kay, worked too hard. They were both freelancers; Melissa was a children’s book illustrator and Kay was a freelance editor. Neither of them took enough holidays and both of them worked too hard. Kay was used to seeing Melissa tense and a bit manic. This new version of her sister was unsettling. It was like dealing with someone who’d been brainwashed by religious fanatics. The only difference here was that Melissa was clearly high on just one thing. Love.