Treasured Secrets (5 page)

‘Shit, really?' A frown rippled across Jimmy's forehead. ‘What're you getting into?'

‘Just some good old-fashioned treasure hunting.' Archer left him with a slap on the back and heard the old bugger laughing as he made his way to
Evangeline
.

***

The following days were consumed with frantic phone calls to cancel bookings and refund deposits in time to hand over
Evangeline
, and with a twinge of apprehension Archer watched Jimmy cruise into the distance with his prized possession for what Jimmy called a practice run. Archer remained at the end of the pier, unable to tear himself away until
Evangeline
was just a blip in the ocean.

The following day, he arrived at the airport with nothing but carry-on luggage and nervous determination. Thirty-three hours later, after long and frustrating stops in both Sydney and Singapore, he landed in Rome. He navigated his way through the bustling crowd to the car hire booth, and within an hour he was driving up the Superstrada in his rented Alfa Spider convertible. The freeway weaved through magical landscapes with medieval hilltop cities and colourful countryside. But the surroundings whizzed by in a blur. His mind was only occupied with visions of Rosalina.

He hadn't told her of his planned arrival. His forecasted greeting with her alternated between a savage slap across his face, and her jumping into his arms, suffocating him with hot kisses. He'd settle for anywhere above the slap. But if their last conversation were anything to go by, she'd most likely hurl a pot or two at him. Armed with his GPS and the address he'd practically begged from the nice lady at the post office, he hoped he wouldn't have too much trouble finding her.

***

Several hours later he turned off the main highway and followed the signs to the small town of Signa. The streets were so narrow, only one direction of traffic travelled through the town's centre at a time, and as he paused at the signals he studied the buildings lining the road. Each home had a dark wooden door with a dangling brass bell, but that was where the similarities ended. The dark bricked buildings were an interesting mix of history and creative individuality. Wooden shutters were painted a variety of colours, vegetables and herbs grew in planter boxes that hung off first-level windows, and eclectic decorations featured on walls and fences, and in gardens.

He watched a young woman who sat at a pizzeria with a small fluffy dog on her lap. She sipped a glass of red wine and seemed blissfully unaware of how close she was to the waiting traffic. Nearby, an elderly woman with a scarf over her hair and a seriously bent back dragged a shopping trolley over the uneven cobblestones. The realisation that he was actually in Italy finally hit him, and with each mile he travelled he looked forward to learning more about Rosalina's home town.

A small shop, overflowing with an abundance of flowers, caught his eye. It took a full five minutes to find somewhere to park and run back to the shop. But it turned out to be worth it. He selected an enormous bunch of pink oriental lilies, Rosalina's favourite. Their distinct scent reminded him of her. She loved receiving flowers, and although he considered them a waste of money, her delight at accepting them was worth every cent.

He returned to the car and manoeuvred the Alfa through seemingly never-ending one-way streets until he was back on the main road. The light turned green and he followed the line of cars that snaked their way through the narrow streets. Barely a mile later, he rounded a corner and the GPS announced his arrival at
Villa Pandolfini
. He turned in and skidded to a halt, narrowly avoiding a boom gate.

The long driveway was lined with enormous cypress trees that stood as sentries to an extravagant palace centred at the top of the hill. He wondered if the GPS had taken him to the right place. Archer vaguely recalled Rosalina telling him she lived in a seven hundred-year-old villa, but he'd never envisaged anything so grand. With a heavy sigh, he realised he barely knew anything about Rosalina's home life in Italy.

Climbing out of the car, he ran his hands through his windblown hair as he searched for a way to lift the boom gate. After a while he gave up, hopped back in the car and moved it to the side. He grabbed his valuables and abandoned the vehicle to walk up the gravel driveway. As he trudged up the path, he glimpsed vineyard-covered hills beyond the villa and arched bridges that crossed a river, winding through the valley. He heard a dog barking in the distance and watched dozens of butterflies flicker around yellow flowers planted at the base of enormous trees.

As he neared the villa he felt like a stranger in a magical land. The building was as grand as a palace. The arched doorways were ten feet high. An ancient bougainvillea vine, as thick as his thigh, snaked its way over a wooden trellis that looked equally as ancient. The villa was three levels, and based on the size of the windows, each level must be at least twenty-feet high. As a child he'd explored great reaches of the globe with his parents, but he couldn't recall seeing a house this grand. The fact that he'd never taken the time to learn of Rosalina's childhood home highlighted his selfishness. He clenched his jaw at the confronting realisation.

Three arched doorways were evenly spaced apart on the ground floor, and without any particular reason why, he chose the middle one and raised the heavy brass knocker to announce his arrival.

With nervous anticipation, he waited for the door to open.

Rosalina dusted her flour-caked hands onto her apron and then turned to check on the Murazzano cheese rolls already baking in the oven. The scents of aromatic spices, melting cheese and fresh-baked pastry wafted from the open door. She lifted the tray from the oven and placed it onto the cork placemat.

‘Smells
magnifica
.' Alessandro ran his tongue over his lips and she had this sudden desire to kiss him. The urge came from nowhere. Maybe she'd had too much wine. Maybe she was falling for him, despite all her determination not to. Maybe, just maybe, she was finally over Archer.

She smiled as Alessandro practically drooled over her cooking. He'd always been a dependable part of her life, and that was something she needed right now. And he was the perfect willing guinea pig for her culinary experiments. He reached for a still steaming pastry and she snapped his hand away. ‘Wait,' she said. ‘You want the whole experience don't you?'

His eyes lit up. ‘
Sì, mio dolce
.'

Rosalina liked the way he called her ‘my sweet', especially given her love of cooking all things sugary. He was patient with her and seemed to understand her need to take everything slow.

Rosalina sliced the now cooled poached pear and placed a sliver upon the savoury cheese pastry. ‘Open up.'

Alessandro obliged and she popped the nibble into his mouth. His eyes did that heavenly eye roll before he closed them and savoured the treat. A low moan of approval teased from his throat and she knew she had him. He was a delight to watch.

First he would taste the sweetness of the pear, delicately poached with cinnamon and Chinese five spice. Next would come the multifaceted Murazzano cheese, smooth and rich in flavour. Finally, the buttery pastry would round it off. She liked to think of it as a smorgasbord in a bite.

After he swallowed, he sighed his approval.

‘Now, keep your eyes closed.'

He simply nodded as a smile of pure bliss curled at his lips.

‘This second sample is the same cheese pastry, but this one I've topped with a touch of my homemade fig jam and a sprinkling of crispy prosciutto.'

A fresh moan tumbled from his lips and he hadn't even tasted it yet. His eyelids fluttered as she placed the second sample into his mouth.

‘Take your time. I need to know which one is better.'

His eyes opened but it was as if he'd slipped into another world. He began to shake his head slowly.

‘You don't like that one.'

He shook his head faster as he continued to chew. ‘You can't make me choose one.'

Rosalina put her hands on her hips. ‘Come on, Alessandro, you know the game.'

‘But I can't decide. They're both
delizioso
.' He kissed the tips of his fingers.

‘This is serious.' She giggled. ‘There can only be one clear winner. So which is it, pear or prosciutto?'

‘Rosa, you torture me.'

She giggled. ‘I tantalise you.'

He flashed a devious smile and fluttered his long lashes. ‘Yes you do,
il mio dolce
.'

Another drink was in order. ‘Want to choose a bottle of wine while you decide?'

‘Okay, but I can't guarantee I'll have an answer before I get back. Red or white?'

‘Red tonight.' The red wine would be the perfect balance to her cheese nibbles.

Alessandro pushed his chair back, scraping it against the terracotta tiles. As he crossed the room, she admired his physique. He really was tall, dark and handsome, and although she'd never seen him do anything even remotely physical, she could tell he looked after himself. She refrained from telling him to duck his head on the doorframe down to the cellar. Alessandro had already hit his head once, and he never had to be told anything twice; he had an amazing memory.

Rosalina frowned at the sound of a knock on the front door. Everybody who'd been to Villa Pandolfini knew to come around to the much less grandiose back door. She washed her hands and dried them on her apron as she made her way through a maze of rooms.

The moment she opened the door, her heart lurched. She clutched the doorknob, fearful her weakened knees would tumble her onto the terracotta tiles.

‘Archer?' Her hand went to her hair, trying to smooth the erratic mess that would be there. She melted at the sight of him, and despite the death of their relationship and months of separation, his very presence still put her in emotional danger.

‘Hi, Rosa.'

She silently cursed and reminded herself she was looking at the man who'd destroyed her faith in romance. ‘What are you doing here?' She swallowed the dryness from her throat.

‘I had to see you.'

Despite his high-neck T-shirt, she could still see the outline of his pendant beneath. ‘Liar. You're here to see that church.'

‘I wondered if you'd remember that phone call.'

A wave of heat rose up her neck and cheeks. The day after she'd made that call she'd gradually pieced together their conversation while nursing a crippling hangover. At first she'd been mortified that she'd called him while in that state, but the more she thought about it, the more satisfied she grew over confronting him about the lies. ‘Are you ready to admit you're a liar?'

‘Rosalina?' Alessandro said her name in a singsong manner, as if they were playing hide and seek.

Alessandro rounded the corner. Her distress almost crippled her, but as her heatwave intensified she quickly recovered from the awkwardness by opening her arm to Alessandro. As had become his custom, Alessandro snuggled in beside her and she clutched him to her side. ‘Alessandro, this is Archer. Archer, this is my boyfriend, Alessandro.'

Both Archer and Alessandro looked at her, and her cheeks burned even more.

‘Aussie Archer?' Alessandro held his hand forward. ‘
Ciao.
What brings you here?'

Rosalina cleared her throat. ‘I was just asking him the same thing.'

‘Rosa told me about a church with an amazing stained-glass window.'

‘Oh, you must mean The Church of St Apostoli. Did she tell you about the fright she had there?'

Archer's eyebrows jumped. ‘No, she didn't.'

‘It's quite a story. You're in luck; Rosa's made an antipasti platter. Come in and we'll tell you all about it.'

‘Great, my car's down the driveway. Is —'

‘You can get it when you leave.' Rosalina turned on her heel and felt their eyes drilling into her back as she walked towards the kitchen.

Her mind was in turmoil. She'd never expected to see Archer again, but her feelings for him sprang to the surface the instant she did. Chiding herself for her lack of control, she knew Archer had to get out of her home. The sooner the better. She saw her reflection in the glass microwave door, and although her instant reaction was to fix her hair and apply a dab of lipstick, she resisted. There was no need to impress Archer anymore, or any man, for that matter. A man should love her for who she was, adorned or not.

She added the cheese-crusted pasties to the already overflowing antipasti board and centred it on the kitchen table. She hadn't realised she'd been holding her breath until Archer and Alessandro entered the kitchen. As she slowly let it out, she willed her thumping heartbeat to calm down.

Archer handed her a beautiful bunch of flowers and it took all her might not to swoon over them. Oriental lilies were her favourite. At least he remembered that.

‘You never told me this villa was so grand,' he said with a glowing smile.

‘You never asked.' She glared at him, hoping he'd notice the cold fire in her eyes.

‘Right. But you could've mentioned something.'

She placed the flowers on the bench, deciding against fussing over them right now. ‘Why? It's not like you told me everything.'

Alessandro swallowed loud enough for her to hear. ‘Would you like me to leave you two alone?'

‘No. That won't be necessary. He won't be staying.'

There was an awkward pause before Alessandro cleared his throat and asked, ‘Where
are
you staying?'

‘Don't know yet. I've come straight from Rome airport.'

An uncomfortable silence settled over them. Rosalina had no intention of offering him a room, even though there were twelve bedrooms on the property and only two were permanently occupied. ‘There's a bed and breakfast down the road.' She cut a sliver of local Accasciato cave-cured cheese and topped it with a wedge of fresh fig. ‘I'll give Maria a call.' As she stood up, she popped the nibble into her mouth and left the table without a glance in either of their directions.