The Hidden Heart of Rico Rossi (6 page)

‘Yes, but mostly I make celebration cakes—birthday cakes, wedding cakes, that sort of thing. I’ve done it for years for friends and colleagues.’

He could see in her expression that it was what she loved doing. Which begged another question. ‘You didn’t think about making that your job when you left school?’

‘I did, but accountancy was safe.’ She grimaced. ‘We struggled a bit with money when I was growing up. So I wanted to have a safe job, one where I knew I wouldn’t have to struggle for money all the time—I even trained on the job rather than doing a degree first, so I didn’t have a mountain of debt when I finished studying.’

He’d never been short of money, but he could understand where she was coming from. ‘But what you really wanted to do was to decorate cakes.’

She nodded. ‘I’ve done some part-time courses. I did a week’s intensive course on sugarcraft, the year before last—how to do embroidery and lace-cut work and stencilling.’

He smiled. ‘Embroidery? That sounds more like fashion than baking to me.’

‘No, it’s a special sort of icing.’ She sat up and took out her mobile phone. ‘Like this one—I made this last month for a friend.’ She handed the phone to him.

He studied the photograph of the wedding cake with its delicate lace. ‘You made that?’

She nodded shyly.

‘Wow. Forgive me for being rude—I’m sure you’re very good at your day job—but you’re absolutely wasted there with a talent like this.’

She blushed. ‘Thank you.’

‘So you’re going to work from home?’

‘Sort of. I’ve rented a professional kitchen with a small
flat above it. I moved in a couple of weeks before I came to Rome.’

‘So when you get back you’ll be setting up your kitchen?’

‘And making sure I meet all the hygiene standards—I’ve got a meeting booked in for when I get back. I’ve done the food safety courses and I’ve got up-to-date certificates, so it shouldn’t be a problem.’

Rico was intrigued. The way she lit up when she spoke about her cakes … ‘Do you have photographs of your other cakes?’

‘There’s a gallery on my website—except I don’t have Internet access on my phone when I’m out of England.’

‘I do.’ He took his phone out of his pocket and flicked into the Internet before handing the phone to her. ‘Show me.’

She brought up the page for him, and he looked through it. Her website was nice and clear; it had contact details and an enquiry form as well as giving potential customers an idea of prices, and the gallery of celebration cakes took his breath away.

‘These are amazing, Ella. So when did you start making cakes?’

‘When I was a teenager. Like I said, money was a bit tight when I was young—I couldn’t always afford to buy my friends a birthday present, but I could make them a special birthday cake, something nobody else would give them. My mum was a great cook, and she taught me how to do icing. And I worked in a bakery on Saturday mornings when I was at school; I learned more about different sorts of icing there.’

It sounded as if she’d had it hard, growing up. But he had a feeling that Ella had also had something that money couldn’t buy; the look on her face when she talked about
her mother told Rico that Ella had been loved for who she was. Something he’d never really experienced. People only wanted him for what he could give them. His mother, for the hold it gave her over his father. His father, for the access to funds for his lifestyle. His grandparents, so he’d be the heir to the business.

What would it be like to be loved just for yourself?

He pushed the thoughts away. ‘What does your mum think about your business?’

Ella’s eyes grew suspiciously shiny and she blinked. ‘I think she would’ve said I was doing it the right way—following my dream, but having a back-up plan in case it didn’t quite work out.’ She swallowed hard. ‘Mum would’ve loved Rome. I just wish I’d had this lottery win a year ago.’

‘Your mother … she passed away?’ he asked as gently as he could.

‘Just over a year ago. She had breast cancer. Otherwise she would’ve come with me and I could have spoiled her—the way she should’ve been spoiled.’

Given that money had been a struggle when Ella was growing up, and she hadn’t mentioned her father at all, Rico guessed that the man had been either feckless or absent. But he wasn’t going to push Ella on that, in case she expected him to trade confidences. He didn’t want to talk about absent or feckless fathers: his had been both.

But he could appreciate that Ella missed her mother badly: a woman she’d loved dearly and who’d loved her all the way back. ‘Ah,
bellezza
.’ He put his arms round her and held her close. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t get to share Rome with your mum. But I’m selfish enough to be glad that I could share it with you.’

‘Yeah.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Sorry. I’m not going to go all maudlin on you. I’m trying to remember Mum
with smiles, not tears. That’s how she was. The more rubbish life threw at her, the more she found to smile about.’

A million miles from his own mother—the more gifts life gave her, the more she found to grouse about, Rico thought. He stroked Ella’s hair. ‘I bet your friends loved their cakes.’ He would’ve been thrilled about someone giving him a present like that—something that had taken thought and time and effort, not just a pile of money thrown at it.

‘They did. Do, I should say.’ She smiled. ‘One of my friends designed that website for me on the understanding that I keep her in cupcakes for a month when I get back from Rome, and I make her a Christmas cake that even her mother-in-law can’t criticise.’

‘Yeah. Families can be too critical.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘That sounds like experience talking.’

‘Not everyone has a wonderful family.’

‘You’re not close to yours?’

That was the understatement of the century. ‘No.’ And he didn’t want to talk about it. ‘But that’s fine. I’m happy in my job.’

‘So what’s your big dream?’ she asked ‘To write the ultimate tour guide?’

‘Not exactly.’ He didn’t actually have a dream. He’d been going through the motions for the last year, just concentrating on making the business be the best it could be and getting it ready for expansion. London, next; then Paris.

‘OK. Something crazier, then. To be a rock star?’ she suggested. ‘Or to design the best Italian sports car in the world?’

He laughed. ‘No. I’m fine with where I am now.’ Though even as he said the words, he knew they weren’t strictly
true. There was something missing in his life. Except he had no idea what it was.

And thinking about that made him uncomfortable. He was fine with his world just the way it was. He was in charge of the family business. In charge of his own destiny. What else did he need?

Time to change the subject, he thought. ‘Hey. We’ve been lazing about here for so long, we’re going to be able to catch Rome at sunset. Better get your camera out.’

Ella was absolutely enchanted by the sunset. Rico took her back by the Trevi Fountain so she could see it lit up at night, and took more pictures for her.

‘Rome’s just amazing.’ She sighed happily. ‘You’re so lucky living here.’

‘I know.’ He slid his arm round her shoulders, enjoying the contact and just strolling through the streets with her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this relaxed. ‘Have dinner with me?’ he asked. ‘I know a little place not far from here where the food’s excellent.’

‘On condition we go halves.’

He still couldn’t quite get his head round that. His last few girlfriends had expected him to pay for absolutely everything—not that he begrudged the money at all, but he’d grown a bit tired of being taken for granted. ‘We’ll go halves,’ he agreed. ‘On condition you let me buy you dessert somewhere else.’

She smiled. ‘It’s a deal.’

They shared a simple meal of bruschetta and a bowl of pasta; although Ella ordered a salad, she didn’t pick at it and ignore the rest of her meal. She enjoyed everything. And she was like nobody he’d ever met. Again, he wasn’t sure whether that scared him or fascinated him most.

Afterwards, Rico took her to the best
gelateria
in Rome.

‘Wow. How do you expect me to choose from all these flavours?’ she asked. ‘They all look so gorgeous.’

Eventually she picked ginger and cinnamon, and they walked back through the streets, holding hands and eating
gelati
. She sighed with pleasure as they reached the Colosseum. ‘I love this building. It’s everything I thought it would be.’

‘Yeah.’ He couldn’t resist kissing her. And when he saw her back to her room, he couldn’t resist kissing her some more. Kissing turned to touching, and touching ended with him making love to her in the shower.

Afterwards, he tucked her into bed.

‘Thank you for today,’ she said softly. ‘It’s been really special.’

She was right. It
had
been special. Which set all his alarm bells ringing; this was meant to be just fun. She was vulnerable; she’d been hurt badly by her ex and had lost her closest family. And he could only be her Mr Right Now. What did he know of families, of love and protection? For both their sakes, he needed to rein back a bit.

It was just as well that tomorrow would be their last full day together. He was dangerously close to actually wanting to get involved with her. Which would be a seriously bad idea.

‘My pleasure,
bellezza
,’ he said lightly. ‘See you in the morning. Sweet dreams.’

T
HE
following morning, Rico took Ella to the Vatican on the Metro. As they walked through the museum, Ella was amazed to learn that they were actually walking on original Roman mosaic floors, ones which might once have lain in an emperor’s villa; and then on marble floors that had once graced the Colosseum itself. The tapestries and sculptures were beautiful too, but what really stunned her was the Sistine Chapel.

‘I didn’t think it would be this huge,’ she said to Rico. One corner had been left dark, so you could see how much work had gone into the restoration of the chapel and cleaning the paintwork. Ella just stood and gazed at the paintings, loving the depth to the blue sky. And the famous view of God reaching out to Adam with his finger, something she’d seen on postcards and in magazines, was much more awe-inspiring in real life.

‘That was really incredible,’ she said to Rico as they left the chapel to go to St Peter’s. ‘I honestly wasn’t expecting it to be that special. Thank you so much for bringing me here.’

Outside, there were the two Swiss guards with their saffron-and-purple striped uniforms, and the guide pointed out the building that contained the Pope’s apartment and the window where he gave the blessing every Sunday.

The church itself was gorgeous, and Ella lingered by Michelangelo’s
Pietà
. ‘It’s amazing to think that he was only twenty-four when he carved it. Four years younger than I am now.’

‘Doing what he loved. Making the most of his gift,’ Rico said. ‘Which is what you’re about to do, too.’

‘I hope so. Though sometimes I wake up and wonder just how crazy I am, setting up a new business in the middle of a recession.’

‘You already have a customer base, and word of mouth will bring you more. And when you have transferable skills that you can use to keep your cash flow ticking over, if you really need to. No, you’re not crazy at all,’ Rico said. ‘You’re doing the right thing. And when you’re old, you can look back without regrets or wondering what would’ve happened if you’d given your dreams a chance.’

‘I guess so.’

They wandered back outside into the sunshine, and Rico showed Ella the disappearing columns.

‘That’s clever.’

‘And you’re thinking about how you can use that on a cake, aren’t you?’ he asked, smiling.

‘Something like that,’ she admitted. She looked at the obelisk in the centre of the square. ‘I take it that that’s another of the Egyptian obelisks that seem to be everywhere?’

‘Yup. Caligula brought it to Rome, and it was moved here from Nero’s circus by the order of Pope Sixtus V,’ Rico told her. ‘Apparently, it took four months to move it across Rome, and the men who moved it had to do it in silence, on pain of death.’

‘Wow. That’s a bit harsh. I assume that’s another medieval thing, like the Mouth of Truth biting off the hands of liars?’

‘Roman history’s not
totally
gory,’ Rico said, laughing.

‘Gladiators, Nero, Caligula … I rest my case.’ She spread her hands, laughing back.

They walked back into the city, stopping every so often to look at the gorgeous cakes in the windows of the
pasticcieri
. There were lilacs and orange trees everywhere, and Ella loved every second of it.

As they crossed the Tiber Ella asked, ‘Can I take you to dinner tonight?’

She wanted to take him to dinner? That was a first. Normally, Rico did the asking. And normally, Rico did the paying. The only time someone else offered to treat him, there was usually an ulterior motive—an obvious one at that. Not being able to see a motive made him feel out of his depth, to the point where he was lost for words.

‘Sorry. Of course you’re probably busy. I assumed too much,’ she said when he was silent.

‘No, I’m not busy. And, yes, I’d like to have dinner with you.’

‘And it’s my bill,’ Ella said firmly.

That was what he didn’t get. He couldn’t help asking, ‘Why?’

‘You cooked for me, that first night. Obviously I can’t return the favour because I don’t have access to a kitchen here, so the best I can offer is buying you a meal in a restaurant.’ She smiled. ‘I would say let’s go to the swishest restaurant in Rome, but I’d guess you have to make a reservation months in advance, and anyway I don’t really have anything suitable to wear.’

‘Plus it would be incredibly expensive. Michelin stars and what have you don’t come cheap,’ he warned.

She shrugged. ‘The money doesn’t matter. Remember, I won all that money, and I’m under budget here anyway. I can afford it.’

Rico hid a smile. Ella might be planning a new career as a baker, but she still talked like an accountant.

‘And anyway, it’d be a treat for me as well,’ she added, as if trying to persuade him.