Treasured Secrets (17 page)

‘I wasn't sure of your preference, so I brought both.'

‘Red, thanks.' Alessandro actually appeared to be a decent guy, and Archer conceded that he might have more work cut out for him than he'd originally thought.

Alessandro twisted a corkscrew into the cork. ‘So what do you do for a living?'

‘I'm a treasure hunter.'

‘
Mi scusi
?' Alessandro's chuckle marked his bewilderment.

‘I take rich tourists on fake treasure hunts.'

Alessandro raised an eyebrow. ‘And you make money doing that?'

‘Sure. It's fun, too. I set up a fake treasure hunt and when my customers find it, they believe they discovered it on their own.'

‘A stable income, then?'

Archer shrugged. ‘I'm usually booked up solid through the summer, and during winter I do a little hunting of my own.'

Alessandro cocked his head. ‘You only work half the year.'

‘I'm comfortable.'

Alessandro's dark eyes drilled into him, as if digging for dollar signs. Archer didn't want Alessandro to learn of his wealth. Winning Rosalina had to be about him as a person, not what he could offer her financially. He already had that aspect of life covered. Money would never be a problem for him or Rosalina. Winning back her love, however, was not as certain. ‘What do
you
do for a living?'

‘I'm a Professor of Ancient History and Architecture at the Università degli Studi di Firenze.'

Archer clicked his fingers. ‘The University of Florence…right?'

‘
Si
.'

‘That sounds interesting.'

‘It's fascinating in a city like Florence. My faculty is in the Accademia di Belle Arti, where Michelangelo's statue of David is. Have you seen it yet?'

‘No. Maybe you can show me?'

‘Of course.'

Alessandro swirled his wine around the glass before he swigged it, and Archer wondered if the academic could actually handle his alcohol. Maybe plying him full of grog would be a good way to get to know him.
But would that really be fair?
Archer reached for the ancient book that sat between them instead.

Alessandro crossed his arms. ‘So discovering this book was a typical day for you.'

‘No, I wouldn't say that. It's the most exciting thing I've found in decades.' Archer opened the book to a page covered in elaborate writing. It was inscribed with a heavy pen, as if it was written in anger. But the realisation it was written in Italian had him twisting the book to Alessandro. ‘What does it say?'

Alessandro ran his gloved finger down the page as he read.

‘His premonition came true, hey?' Archer asked.

‘
Corretto.
He predicted the plague four months before it hit Florence. You can almost feel his fear.'

Archer couldn't help but like Alessandro, and for a fleeting moment, entertained the notion that maybe he should let Rosalina go. But he smacked that thought down quick smart.
May the best man win!

Alessandro slowly turned the pages, but when he paused at a page filled with a detailed table, Archer sat forward. Although it was written in Italian, it was obvious the final column with a series of numbers was a value. ‘What've you got?'

‘It looks like a list of items the church was holding on behalf of its constituents. They've written the date, the name of the donor, a list of the goods and the value.'

Archer's heart almost burst with excitement. This was every treasure hunter's dream. The list went on and on for several pages.

Archer reached for the pendant around his neck. This finger of gold was obviously only one small piece in what appeared to be an extensive collection. He tried to visualise the size of the haul and frowned. ‘Do you think this priest guy escaped with all this?'

Alessandro rubbed his chin as he scanned the list down the page. Finally he looked up. ‘It must have been an enormous haul.'

Archer tried to picture how a treasure-trove this large could've been moved around, especially as transport would've been very limited in those times. ‘It must've taken some planning.'

Alessandro rested his elbow on the table and pointed a finger at Archer. ‘You know, the reason Florence flourished while other cities in Europe floundered was because of its slow-moving Arno River. It allowed goods to be shipped in and out with ease.'

‘By boats.' Archer nodded as his mind flicked to the location of the pendant's final resting place. It was obvious the pendant was once part of a shipment being transported by an ocean-going vessel. They were another step closer to finding the treasure. Archer's heartbeat stepped up another notch.

‘Now, we try to establish where the treasure went after it left here,' Alessandro said.

‘Not really.' Archer bunched his lips and the Italian cocked his head. ‘I kind of know where it ended up. We don't need to know how it got there.'

‘You know where the treasure is?'

Archer sucked through his teeth and pulled a face. ‘Not exactly.'

‘What does that mean?'

‘I told you about scuba diving with my dad. But I'm not entirely sure where we were.' Archer rubbed his eyes and the weight of exhaustion hit him like an unclipped anchor. ‘How about we meet for lunch tomorrow and take it up from here?'

Alessandro clenched his teeth; clearly he wasn't happy with that answer, but a heartbeat later the Italian professor relaxed his jaw. Defeat came pretty damn quickly. Maybe he was tired too. ‘I'm working tomorrow,' he said. ‘How about we meet back here around six?'

Archer nodded and pushed back on his chair. ‘Sounds good.' He offered his hand and let Alessandro dominate the handshake.

Rosalina woke to a throbbing headache and groaned when she tried to open her eyes. The bruise over her left eye felt like it was the size of a grapefruit and she winced, despite barely touching it. As the town clock in the distance chimed seven, she flicked the doona back, slipped from her bed and headed for the bathroom mirror.

She gripped the basin, staring at her reflection. Her throat constricted, and for a brief moment, she relived the fear that had nearly driven her over the edge of sanity yesterday. A tear squeezed out of her swollen eye and, as she flicked it away, she vowed that no man would ever scare her like that again.

The bruising and swelling was much worse than she'd hoped it would be. There was no way she could go to work looking like this. That created two problems — one being her boss wasn't very forgiving. The other, and the more important one of the two, was that she was destined to spend the day with Archer. The prospect delighted and perplexed her at the same time. She showered, dressed in jeans and a cotton shirt, applied her favourite perfume and cruised downstairs, hoping Nonna wouldn't rise for another couple of hours.

If there was one thing that was guaranteed to make her feel better, it was cooking, so Rosalina set about making pastries for breakfast. It wasn't long before she was humming to herself and cinnamon and coffee aromas wafted about the kitchen. Soon she forgot about her injuries, but she found herself constantly glancing out the window for Archer. Each time, she chastised herself and turned the music up a little bit more.

The timer sounded and she opened the oven door.

‘They smell divine.'

She nearly dropped the hot tray at the sound of Archer's deep voice. ‘Don't you believe in knocking?' She tugged on her lower lip at the sight of him in jeans and a white T-shirt that hugged his toned biceps.

‘I've been knocking for a while.' He glanced at the radio.

Rosalina turned the music down a notch, gathered her coffee cup and backed up against the bench, determined to remain distant, despite her thundering heartbeat telling her otherwise.

He pointed at the coffee pot. ‘May I?'

‘Sure. The mugs are over there.'

He bent to choose a mug and her eyes drifted. His muscular rump was begging to be checked out in those jeans but she forced her eyes away, angry that she couldn't control herself.

Archer sipped his coffee and the silence between them was as awkward as two strangers in an elevator. ‘Your eye looks better.'

‘Liar.'

‘You're right. It looks worse. Does it hurt?'

‘It throbs like crazy.' She instantly regretted her choice of words.

His eyes twinkled, showing off that golden halo she'd missed more than she cared to admit. ‘Can I get you something?'

‘No. I'll be fine.'

‘I hope you're not going to work.'

She cocked her head at him. ‘I can't. Not looking like this.'

His face lit up with a cheeky grin. ‘Great. Maybe you can show me around your home.'

Rosalina's heart jumped. Villa Pandolfini had been her family's home for four generations and she'd love to show him how special it was. But being alone with Archer would create opportunities she didn't want to contemplate.

‘I promise to behave myself.' He grinned, as if reading her mind.

Rosalina softened. ‘Okay then.' She held the tray of steaming cinnamon scrolls towards him. ‘Well, for starters, this is where I learnt to cook. I practically lived at Nonna's side, begging to learn everything.'

Archer held a pastry up as a toast. ‘Here's to Nonna.'

‘You'll get to meet her later. But I'm warning you, she'll say what's on her mind.' Nonna was just as likely to beat him over the head with a rolling pin as to give him a smothering embrace. She knew all about Rosalina's broken heart.

‘I deserve whatever she dishes out.'

‘That's true.'

Archer laughed, one of his rare, hearty laughs.

‘Grab another pastry and I'll show you the cellar.' Rosalina topped up her coffee and moved around the rustic kitchen table. ‘All the rooms in the villa have fourteen-foot ceilings, except this one. It was originally the maids' kitchen, so it's only ten feet. It's probably the least decadent room in the villa but it's my favourite. I spent most of my childhood in here.' She shrugged. ‘It feels like home.'

Rosalina walked past a fireplace that was no longer in use. The ancient stone-lined oven was much smaller than the other seven fireplaces in the villa, but it was also the hardest to clean. It hadn't seen a flame in two or so decades — at least, not that she remembered anyway. She paused at a side door. ‘Watch your head on this.' Rosalina touched the top of the frame.

The doorway down to the cellar was just over five feet high, and Nonna was the only family member who hadn't hit her head on it. As she opened the door, the old hinges screeched as if protesting the movement. Rosalina switched on a light and held the balustrade as she stepped onto stairs that'd seen centuries of wear.

The cellar had a distinct, musty smell, with strong earthy overtones. She loved it. Many fond childhood memories began or ended down here. ‘It hasn't always been a cellar. Over the years it's served as living quarters for the hired help, a hospital during the war and a bunker.' She turned on another light to reveal rows and rows of shelving, all heavily laden with dusty bottles of wine.

‘Oh, wow. It's huge down here.' Archer ducked his head as he stepped off the last step. Rosalina had seen dozens of men do it. She didn't blame them; the darkened ceiling was much lower than regulation. At six-foot-two, Archer would be able to stand, but only just. She decided to let him figure it out for himself.

‘It runs nearly the full length of the villa.' She backed up against a row of bottles and took another sip of her coffee. As Archer slipped past her and reached for a bottle, she couldn't miss his musk cologne. It was her favourite and he knew it. Having him here, so close and so damn sexy, was dangerous.
Stay strong, Rosalina.
‘So…this is the wine tasting area.' She indicated to a row of ancient oak barrels that had been converted to tables.

He cocked his head. ‘People come down here?'

‘Sure. People come from all over the world to stay at Villa Pandolfini. We offer cooking classes, too. Even royalty has stayed here.'

‘You're kidding, right?'

She folded her arms over her chest. ‘About the cooking classes or the royalty?'

‘Both. Either.'

‘We're fully booked for the next two years and many famous people have stayed. Including Napoleon.'

Archer whistled. ‘I can't believe you never told me about this.'

She sipped her coffee, avoiding a nasty comment. He held up a bottle. The black rooster symbol on the label was steeped in history that she'd love to mention. Some other time, maybe.

‘What's the rooster about?'

Wow, his new-found intuition was getting a little spooky. ‘It's a long story.'

Their eyes met and she could tell a question was burning on his lips but he held it and her gaze. She was certain her heart was beating faster. He did that to her and he knew it.

He slid the bottle back into its slot on the row. ‘Maybe you can tell me over lunch.'

She shrugged. ‘Maybe.'

He walked further along the row of bottles. ‘So you make this wine here?'

‘Yes. We have several acres of vines and we make it in the cottage near your room.'

He selected another bottle and read the label. ‘Red Chianti.'

She walked towards him. ‘It's good. Most restaurants in Florence stock it.'

Archer slipped the bottle back onto the shelf and reached for her hand. Before she realised what had happened, his fingers fell into place between hers. ‘Why didn't you tell me about all this before?' He cupped her chin and gently tilted her head until she had no choice but to look into his dark eyes.