Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Dani quietly ate as conversation flowed around her. Marcello had opted out of surgery. She made a mental note to call him. Grace had taken over the kitchen at Via Carciofo, reducing their hours to three nights a week until Marcello was well. She'd decided to stay at Toni's apartment, leaving the two of them alone a few nights during the week.

She and Toni alone? Why did the idea make her nervous?

Grace passed Sophia the last of the Caprese salad.

"So, Dani, Toni tells me you two attended the same wedding last year." Dani choked on her wine and tried not to meet Toni's gaze.

"We did. But I didn't know of the connection to Marcello then. He never spoke of family."

"That's Marcello. Work is his life. Nothing else interferes. It's a blessing and a curse."

Toni pushed his plate away and rested his elbows on the table. "I've never known him to be unhappy with his life."

His mother began stacking dirty plates. "Marcello never slowed down. Never kept up his relationships with women. And now he's in the hospital with no children of his own."

Dani stabbed at her salad, the words hitting home harder than she'd like.

"Ma, stop." Toni pulled the dirty plates from his mother's hands. "Sophia and I will clean up."

"Okay, but we need room. I've made tiramisu."

The table groaned, too full to even think of another bite. His mother chuckled.

"Fine. You'll eat it later. Dani, I'm curious what you will think of my tiramisu. My son couldn't stop talking about the wedding cake you made for Destin."

"Yeah, Papà even tried to make it once." Sophia scrunched her face and shook her head.

Really? This was news. Dani looked at him, but he was busy trying to get Sophia to hand over her phone. Dani recalled his intent to eat that icing off her body. She absently touched her chest, as if she could still feel his lips on her skin.

He'd just gotten a divorce then and she remembered Nicole saying that he'd been acting like a man out on parole. In other words, he wasn't looking for a relationship. But she couldn't help but feel that he seemed different. Less reckless and more guarded. She wondered just how nasty the divorce had been, and based on what she witnessed the other night, what was really going on between him and his ex.

Toni's mother finished off the last of the wine. "So, Dani, I hear you worked with Andre Pierre."

Dani tensed. "Yes, for a while."

"What's he like?"

Toni was silent and she wondered if he was thinking about their conversation at the canal. It was a fair question; Andre was famous, after all.

"He's...charismatic." Toni's lips pressed together. Dani wondered if he was thinking of the internet story. "He's definitely no Marcello. That's for sure."

"Well, few are. But I wonder why he would say that? Two Michelin stars is nothing to sneeze at."

Toni cleared his throat. "No, it isn't. You must be very proud, Dani."

Dani nodded half-heartedly, wondering why his compliment felt like a dig.

"And your parents must be so proud of you too. Tell me, what does your family do?"

Dani stopped to think for a moment. Was her mother proud? Toni saw her internal struggle and stepped in.

"Dani's mother is Francesca Watts."

Grace gasped with delight. Sophia yelled for her phone back so she could Google.

"Incredibile, you must have had such a wonderful childhood."

Sophia snatched her phone from her father and her thumbs flew over the screen.

"Wow. She's beautiful. Hey, there's Mamma. And—" Sophia's face changed and she put the phone down.

Toni straightened. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Cara mia, hand me the phone." Sophia did as she was told, then began to stammer. "She said she wasn't going to see him anymore. I thought you two were trying... I thought..." Sophia's gaze swept between Toni and Dani before she quit the table. Fast footsteps could be heard climbing a flight of stairs.

Dani stayed very still, unable to see the screen of the phone. After a few scrolls and a long pause Toni blew out a breath and went after Sophia. Grace took the phone and shook her head, then handed it to Dani.

"Oh, I don't think I should look."

"You're going to be a part of this family for a short while, you might as well know everything. In any case, your mother looks wonderful."

Dani touched the darkened screen and a picture of her mother lounging at Just Cavalli Club with Roberto popped up. Their glasses were held up in a sweet toast between old friends. A few more models sat next to her mother, including a svelte blonde on the end in a lip-lock with an older gentleman. Ava.

Dani's heart tightened, knowing what Sophia was feeling. How many times had Dani scoured the internet for her father, only to find him in pose after pose with girlfriend after girlfriend.

Dani let the phone go dark. "It's normal for her to want her parents to get back together."

Grace began to clear the table. "She's getting older, watching everything. I'm afraid that Ava's behavior is affecting her negatively."

Dani gathered the rest of the empty plates and followed Grace into the kitchen. Grace filled the sink with soapy water and let the lasagna pans soak. Grace patted the counter.

"Just sit them here, cara."

"I'm happy to wash them."

"No, we can do that in a little while. I want to walk you around the garden before it gets dark. Marcello hasn't finished the menu and I thought you'd want to see what ingredients we have for you to work with."

"I'd love that."

Grace led them through the mudroom and outside across the back patio toward one of the largest greenhouses Dani had ever seen. Several plotted gardens marked the way. Squash, eggplant, snap peas, to name a few. Toni's mother planted and cared for them all herself, only using the most organic resources to keep them healthy.

Sophia's raised, muffled voice came through the air.

Grace stopped, the look on her face one of anguish. "He tries so hard with her."

"He's a good father. Better than mine had been at his age."

Grace took a turn into some of the taller vegetation, caressing the leaves as she went.

"I hope I didn't embarrass you when I insinuated you and Toni should date."

"No. I understand. You're concerned about him."

"His relationship with Ava fell apart so fast. I knew they were wrong for each other, but my Toni had always been in love with love. I don't think he ever truly saw Ava for who she really was. They were young and codependent for a long time, never leaving each other alone. Always going out. Always partying."

"Sounds like an addiction."

"Exactly. Love was a drug to them. Then Sophia came along." Grace's eyes gleamed. "The tiniest precious little being. And of course that's what opened his eyes."

"A baby sobered them up, so to speak?"

Grace nodded. "They were fine for a little while, but once Sophia was weaned things began to get strained. Ava was ready to go back to work, which was natural. But she also wanted to start partying again. Toni didn't."

"I'm surprised. Usually people slow down a bit."

"She hadn't changed. But Toni had. He hasn't once taken his role as a father lightly. She, on the other hand...oh look, buds have begun to sprout. Watch your step."

Dani stepped over the threshold into the greenhouse, her thoughts on Toni when towers of green vegetation rose in front of her.

"Wow. These are tomatoes?"

"And some herbs. All geothermal." Blooming pots lined the walls.

"How is that possible?"

"Marcello replicated techniques used in Iceland. They produce tomatoes year-round. Now so do we."

"Oh my God, they look amazing. I'd love to taste them."

"You just did. My tomato sauce comes from these tomatoes."

"Your family has built a masterpiece here."

Grace smiled. "And you are going to be a part of it."

Dani's heart almost stopped. Just a ghost chef. Ten years in the making. A large investment for the family. The pressure began to feel enormous. How did she get here? She was supposed to be focusing on what she wanted from her life, not filling in for someone else's life. Been there, done that.

"Are you all right?" Dani felt Grace's hand on her shoulder. "You look pale."

"Maybe I had too much wine."

"I bet you're exhausted. Let's go inside."

Toni met them in the hallway. He had his hand on one of the bags when they walked in. Following his talk with Sophia, the smile he mustered was half-hearted.

"So, Dani, what did you think of our project?"

"It's amazing." Grace continued into another room and Dani touched Toni's shoulder. "Is she all right?"

"She'll be fine."

Grace appeared with a torn, handwritten book. "Marcello's menu, so to speak. You know he prefers to surprise his guests with a dish, but he always has a list of entrées prepared in case someone is uncomfortable with that concept. Oh, I just realized it's in Italian."

"That's fine. I should be able to stumble through it."

Grace turned to her son. "Toni, you can show her the kitchen tomorrow. How is Sophia?"

"Better, Mamma. Texting. Googling. Who knows."

"Ugh! Those phones. I'm going to clean up and make us all some tea."

"Let me help, Grace." Dani stepped forward but the spry woman stopped her.

"I won't have it. You'll be busy enough tomorrow. Toni will show you your room. Rest a little. You're still a bit pale."

Toni led Dani into a spacious room, propped her spinner against the wall, and plopped her carryall on the bed.

"Welcome to my old room."

Dani's gaze slid across the walls, which were riddled with '90s-style posters of athletes, soccer plaques, medals and a few magazine tears of models.

"Wow. I feel like I'm in 1995."

He chuckled and pulled open the curtains, exposing a gorgeous view of the garden and the small patch of vineyard further beyond.

"My mother refuses to change it. Sophia stays here when we don't have company." He gestured toward the full-size floor mirror with stickers all around the edge. "The awards on the desk are hers. Up until a year ago, Sophia played calcio, er, soccer, for a top club."

Dani crossed to the corner desk and picked up one of five gold statues. Her name and 1st Place was etched on the plaque. Pictures of her in uniform from past to present were displayed on the wall. She leaned closer to an action shot that could have been taken by a professional.

"Why did she stop?"

Toni shrugged and his mouth became a flat line. "She said she no longer liked the game." He turned back to the window and stared at the purple and yellow streaked sky. "We used to play a lot together, but I guess she's growing up. Becoming a young woman."

"Women play sports."

He turned back to her and smirked at her belligerent tone. "Yes, they do. But she was no longer interested, so I let her quit. And her mother never approved of her playing, anyway."

"But she was good. Am I right?"

His smile was nostalgic. "She was good."

"Was she better than you?"

"Of course not."

Dani laughed at his matter-of-fact tone.

Toni slid his hands on his pockets and sat on the edge of a small desk. "Did you play sports?"

Dani chuffed. "Does this look like the body of an athlete."

"You're strong. I can see you playing, uh, baseball?"

"Baseball?" Dani laughed in shock.

"Yeah, like, um, who's the famous guy... Babe Ruth."

Dani rolled her eyes. Of course he picked the fat player.

"No. No sports. I traveled a lot with my mother, which took me out of school three to four times a year."

Thinking back on grade school always made her cringe. Tutors, summer school, her father even tried homeschooling her himself at one point. What a disaster. Her grades were always passable, but she was lucky all she'd ever wanted to do was cook, because she wasn't sure academia would have been an option.

"For the record, I didn't choose Babe Ruth because he was overweight."

Dani flicked her gaze to his and felt her heart beat a bit faster. Overweight. She hated the term, an assumption that there was one weight for everyone.

"It doesn't matter."

"It does if I offended you. I saw the look on your face."

Ugh, she had a way of showing her feelings on her face. "I think you could have said Derek Jeter or Alex Rodriquez, that's all."

"Who are they?"

"Yankees."

"Oh! Right. I've seen them play."

"You have?"

"I go to New York a lot."

"Hmm. I've never actually been to a game."

"I think they kick you out of New York for that."

She smiled. "Yeah, they do."

He ran his gaze over her face as if he was going to say something else. He clapped his hands together.

"Well, I'll let you get settled. The bathroom is down the hall. My mother left you towels there." He pointed to a futon against the wall. "And anything else...just ask."

"Thank you."

He shifted his weight, then headed for the door. "Sophia is staying across the hall. Mother is at the very end. And I'm downstairs in the seminterrato."

She frowned, then realized he meant the basement. "Got it."

He walked out the door, but seconds later Dani looked up from unzipping her bag to see Toni standing still in the doorway with his hands in his pockets.

"Sandro Botticelli believed that flesh was a symbol of health, wealth and stability. Which is why he depicted the most desirable women to have fuller figures. Even the statues all around Rome are of women with round hips and bellies—signs of femininity and fertility."

"You're making this awkward."

"Have you seen his paintings?"

"Everyone knows The Birth of Venus."

"He's done so much more than that."

"What does this have to do with—"

"You're not fat, Dani. I saw your face when your mother shooed away the hors d'oeuvres at the party. I'm sure she's curbed your hand many times, the same way Ava does to Sophia."

Dani looked away, trying to find her voice. All that came out was a whisper. "She shouldn't do that to her. It will scar her for life." Dani felt the tears gather in her throat and she began to count backward, hoping they wouldn't spring a well in her eyes.

"I've always been a big girl. Even at Sophia's age. It doesn't matter if you don't think I'm fat, or even if I don't think I'm fat. Society says I'm fat. Do you know how hard it was to find a dress for that party?"

"You looked stunning."

She met his gaze and the look they exchanged was infused with a strange, thickened intimacy. She felt her heart rate increase. The deep, dark attraction sent luxurious waves of arousal through her body. He was so handsome. The classic bone structure and masculine jawline was the perfect backdrop for his infectious smile, but this, his declaration, the way he was looking at her, like he could really see her, had cracked open something inside of her.

She wanted him. Maybe it was the way he was with his daughter or the unapologetic way he spoke his mind. Maybe it was this, his inclination to call her out of her emotional shell. He can see her, wrapped in all of her insecurities, and as he stood there with his steady gaze on her, all she could think about was going to bed with him. To slide her hands over his shoulders and down his powerful chest. To press her lips to his skin. Then pin him to the bed and crawl up his tall, strong body.

She swallowed hard. "I'm a grown woman, Toni. I wasn't offended by your comment. I'm fine. Everything is fine." Please leave!

"I'd like to show you his work sometime. It's at the museum in Berra."

"Fine. Let's do that," she quipped, biting her lip against the odd mingling of emotions. She wanted him; she wanted to run. Out. Out. Out!

Toni's gaze stayed on her briefly before he nodded and left. Dani rushed forward and quietly shut the door, then threw her back against the door and let tears roll down her face. She wasn't quite sure why she was crying. And she wasn't interested in exploring it. She wiped her face and sniffed herself back to rights. She ran her hands over her breasts and down her belly as if she could coax the arousal back inside its dark cave. Her breathing evened and she slumped on the bed, Toni's bed. She imagined him sleeping in it, then mentally slapped the fantasy away.

Then her gaze landed on Marcello's recipe journal. She flipped through the pages, letting the recipes push away her insecurities. But suddenly new insecurities rolled in. What if she failed? She tossed the book on the bed and walked over to the mirror. She ran a finger through the shaved edges at her temple, air-conditioning for the kitchen heat. Her palm ran over her tattoos, feeling the burn scars they covered. She then studied her fingertips, full of marks from cuts. She ran her hands over her breasts, down her middle, then over her hips. The image in the mirror didn't look like a Botticelli painting.