“What are we having this morning?”
“Stuffed french toast. Have you ever had it before?”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, no.”
“Well, you’re going to love it. You both are,” I say, wielding a spatula.
“I am your servant. Just tell me what help you need.”
“You can whisk up those eggs with a dash of vanilla and a pinch of cinnamon and salt.”
He follows my directions, and I bring Bianca a cup of coffee. I ignore the red marks on her wrists and turn my attention to slicing the bread. I ask Fabrizio to chop some walnuts.
Bianca turns on the stereo, and music fills the room as she returns to sit and gaze out the window, looking lost in daydreams.
It’s a very pleasing sound, and the pungent smell of fresh coffee begins to mingle with the sweet aroma of vanilla and butter as the french toast cooks.
Fabrizio is more than suitable as a sous chef. He anticipates what I need before I ask for it, and we work together as though we’ve done it a hundred times before. With him at my side, I feel as if I might have been paranoid and let my imagination get the best of me. Bianca’s personal struggles are none of my business, and I’m so grateful Fabrizio stopped me before I left. Even in Stefan’s absence, I’m happy here.
I plate our breakfast and drizzle warm syrup over the top. The food looks beautiful, and I realize how much I’ve missed my craft.
Bianca and Fabrizio scarf heaping mouthfuls while complimenting me on my skill. Of course, I give Fabrizio his just recognition, and we have pleasant conversation as we eat.
“So, ladies, what will you be doing today?”
I defer to Bianca. “She’s the boss.”
Fabrizio smirks.
“I’m taking her to Florence for the day.”
“Ah, Florence. You will have a great time, Miss Carina. Will you be home for dinner?” His tone indicates he’ll be awaiting our return. Or maybe just Bianca’s return.
“I was thinking we could try some restaurants?”
I nod.
“Well, please be careful on your journey.” His eyes shift to Bianca.
Once again, I feel out of place, like a third wheel, and become enthralled with my hands in my lap.
A kitchen chair scrapes the floor, and I turn to see Bianca standing and looking toward the door.
Rocco is there in a black suit with a bag in his hand. “I have to leave. Mr. Savano requires my assistance on his business trip.”
Bianca nods, and Rocco walks toward her and grabs her wrist, pulling her into him.
I gasp as he kisses her in front of us. Hard.
The kiss is deep and passionate, and he holds her tight. A simple peck goodbye would have sufficed in front of other people, but it’s apparent that’s not enough for Rocco. I watch as Bianca goes limp in his arms. I realize it has not been Bianca or Fabrizio giving me the creeps, it’s Rocco.
Just Rocco.
Fabrizio looks away, returning his attention to his food and clenching his jaw as he chops at the remaining walnuts on his plate with his fork until they are pulverized and inedible.
Rocco pulls Bianca out of the room with him, I presume to continue their goodbye in privacy.
Fabrizio’s face is red, and he doesn’t look up from his plate.
I begin to clear the dishes.
“Please, I will clean up. Thank you for the meal. And I put your things in Mr. Savano’s room. He would want you to stay in there while he is away.” He doesn’t look at me again, and I leave Fabrizio in quiet solitude.
Stefan’s bedroom has a different look and feel to it than the rest of the house. It’s a master suite with a small lounge equipped with a leather sofa and a large television. Glass doors lead to a large terrace, and the room is different shades of blue and gray. Despite the cool tones, there is warmth to it.
I lie down on his king-sized bed, and I’m bombarded by the scent of his rich cologne. The smell alone does things to me. I want to crawl under the sheets and lose myself in a fantasy of him, but I rise and prepare for my day with Bianca.
This is the first
“Stuffed french toast. Have you ever had it before?”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, no.”
“Well, you’re going to love it. You both are,” I say, wielding a spatula.
“I am your servant. Just tell me what help you need.”
“You can whisk up those eggs with a dash of vanilla and a pinch of cinnamon and salt.”
He follows my directions, and I bring Bianca a cup of coffee. I ignore the red marks on her wrists and turn my attention to slicing the bread. I ask Fabrizio to chop some walnuts.
Bianca turns on the stereo, and music fills the room as she returns to sit and gaze out the window, looking lost in daydreams.
It’s a very pleasing sound, and the pungent smell of fresh coffee begins to mingle with the sweet aroma of vanilla and butter as the french toast cooks.
Fabrizio is more than suitable as a sous chef. He anticipates what I need before I ask for it, and we work together as though we’ve done it a hundred times before. With him at my side, I feel as if I might have been paranoid and let my imagination get the best of me. Bianca’s personal struggles are none of my business, and I’m so grateful Fabrizio stopped me before I left. Even in Stefan’s absence, I’m happy here.
I plate our breakfast and drizzle warm syrup over the top. The food looks beautiful, and I realize how much I’ve missed my craft.
Bianca and Fabrizio scarf heaping mouthfuls while complimenting me on my skill. Of course, I give Fabrizio his just recognition, and we have pleasant conversation as we eat.
“So, ladies, what will you be doing today?”
I defer to Bianca. “She’s the boss.”
Fabrizio smirks.
“I’m taking her to Florence for the day.”
“Ah, Florence. You will have a great time, Miss Carina. Will you be home for dinner?” His tone indicates he’ll be awaiting our return. Or maybe just Bianca’s return.
“I was thinking we could try some restaurants?”
I nod.
“Well, please be careful on your journey.” His eyes shift to Bianca.
Once again, I feel out of place, like a third wheel, and become enthralled with my hands in my lap.
A kitchen chair scrapes the floor, and I turn to see Bianca standing and looking toward the door.
Rocco is there in a black suit with a bag in his hand. “I have to leave. Mr. Savano requires my assistance on his business trip.”
Bianca nods, and Rocco walks toward her and grabs her wrist, pulling her into him.
I gasp as he kisses her in front of us. Hard.
The kiss is deep and passionate, and he holds her tight. A simple peck goodbye would have sufficed in front of other people, but it’s apparent that’s not enough for Rocco. I watch as Bianca goes limp in his arms. I realize it has not been Bianca or Fabrizio giving me the creeps, it’s Rocco.
Just Rocco.
Fabrizio looks away, returning his attention to his food and clenching his jaw as he chops at the remaining walnuts on his plate with his fork until they are pulverized and inedible.
Rocco pulls Bianca out of the room with him, I presume to continue their goodbye in privacy.
Fabrizio’s face is red, and he doesn’t look up from his plate.
I begin to clear the dishes.
“Please, I will clean up. Thank you for the meal. And I put your things in Mr. Savano’s room. He would want you to stay in there while he is away.” He doesn’t look at me again, and I leave Fabrizio in quiet solitude.
Stefan’s bedroom has a different look and feel to it than the rest of the house. It’s a master suite with a small lounge equipped with a leather sofa and a large television. Glass doors lead to a large terrace, and the room is different shades of blue and gray. Despite the cool tones, there is warmth to it.
I lie down on his king-sized bed, and I’m bombarded by the scent of his rich cologne. The smell alone does things to me. I want to crawl under the sheets and lose myself in a fantasy of him, but I rise and prepare for my day with Bianca.
This is the first
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