The Italian Page 9

  The harsh reprimand echoed through the bathroom. Hope’s nose burned and twitched with sentiment. “I’m completely out of my element.”

  “Every mother feels out of place the first time,” Miss Susan scoffed cynically.

  “There sure as hell won’t be a second time, I can guarantee you that!” Hope inspected her nude body in the mirror as she rubbed lotion over her stomach. “Miss Susan, are my boobs supposed to be getting bigger already? They’re tender and swollen . . . and darker. I had to borrow one of Faith’s bras. Well, I guess I’m not borrowing it,” she corrected, her words but a painful whisper.

  “Hon, everything’s gonna get bigger. You might as well get used to it.”

  It felt odd and a bit uncomfortable walking into Boxco. Her office had essentially been her home-away-from-home for a decade and even though she traveled often, she’d never been out of the office for more than two weeks.

  Hope entered her office only to find all of her belongings were gone. Confusion weaved across her brow as her feet carried her inside.

  “Hey,” Jeannie greeted from behind, walking into the room.

  Heat climbed up Hope’s neck, radiating a hard flush across her stunned expression. “What’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?” Jeannie frowned making her way around the desk, dumping her purse into the bottom drawer.

  “I mean, where are my things? What are you doing in my office?” Hope reiterated, her jaw set, firmly grinding out the question.

  Jeannie’s eyes widened in surprise, her tone turned contrite. “Shit. Please tell me that you’ve already talked to Samantha?”

  “No. She hasn’t spoken to me at all. That bitch,” she growled. Hope spun on her heel making a beeline for Samantha’s office, each grinding step echoed down the hallway. Not bothering to knock, she burst through the door. Samantha jumped a little, awkwardly adjusting her chair closer to the desk.

  “Good morning, Hope.”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  “What do mean?”

  “I mean, where is my office?”

  “Didn’t you get the email I sent on Friday?” Each intricate feature of her face remained paralyzed showing no signs of culpability.

  “No, I’ve been a little busy planning a funeral, burying my sister and brother-in-law, meeting with attorneys and priests, and going through their belongings so the realtor can put their home on the market.” She unloaded her breath, and mind.

  “Calm down—”

  “Are you kidding me? Calm down? I just walked into my office and found Jeannie sitting at my desk.”

  “Before you get all riled up, why don’t you have a seat?”

  “I think I’ll stand.”

  “Hope, let’s be realistic. Your responsibilities were piling up. I had to replace you.”

  “I have months of accrued sick leave and vacation time! This was an emergency, Samantha. What the hell did you expect me to do? Come to work?” she seethed. “You’re firing me?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Hope. I had you transferred to electronics.”

  “Electronics? I’m not an electrician! I’m a sommelier! And a damn good one at that!”

  “You said it yourself, Jeannie has done a great job at the last few tastings.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me? I’m the best sommelier you’ve got.” Hope harbored no hard feelings toward Jeannie; this was all her boss’s doings. Understanding began to sink in as she witnessed a glimmer of satisfaction in Samantha’s eye. “This is about me being pregnant, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t be absurd.”

  “You’re the one being ridiculous. I can still carry my workload. I merely won’t be able to fly the last few months of pregnancy. I’ll be able to transition back to work without any problems.”

  “Hope, I admire your determination, but you’ll only be able to travel as long as the pregnancy will allow. And I won’t be taking any risks.” Samantha usually concealed her callous temperament, but a glimmer of complacency lifted at her brow. She crossed one arm over the other, strumming her set of long red nails against the crook of her elbow. “I think your attitude is a bit cavalier.”

  “Excuse me?” Hope spouted defensively.

  “How did you expect to handle your responsibilities after this baby is born? I did you a favor. You should be thanking me.”

  Her patience wore thin. Emotions she’d harbored for years scratched their way to the surface. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

  “Have you even considered your long term situation? What are you going to do for child care when you’re traveling? Face the facts, Hope. In a few months you’re going to be a single mother and you can’t cart an infant half way around the world.”

  Hope wanted to assure Samantha, and more importantly herself, that she could manage the hand she’d been dealt. However, she stood paralyzed, unable to move her mouth. Any words of guarantee lodged in her throat. Part of what Samantha said was true. Hope wouldn’t be able to travel as she had in the past.

  A deep-seated panic unleashed her most intimate fears. Hope was losing control of her entire life. And she didn’t like it.

  Samantha’s eyes narrowed, boring into Hope’s before cutting southward, glaring at her unborn baby. “Your sister left you with a mess to clean up. You can no longer do your job.”

  Hope glared at Samantha. Chills covered every inch of her body. She needed to speak out, to defend herself, to defend her sister. Her family. Trepidation and anger began a pugnacious battle of wills, firing off inside her head. She’d only been this angry once in her life and it had left her mother with a bright red hand print across her cheek.

  Circumstances and emotions spiraled out of control.

  “Life’s a little bit of a bitch for you right now, but I’m sure you’ll be a great asset to electronics.”

  She could barely hear Samantha’s well-rehearsed speech over the blood-rush pounding in her ears. Something snapped inside, pushing her past the breaking point. Hope’s hands curled into tight balls, fingers slippery from sweat. Squaring her shoulders, she hinged at the waist, resting her fisted knuckles on the desk. The bite of Samantha’s perfume inundated her nostrils, souring her stomach.

  “I don’t think so.” She paused. “You think you’ve got me right where you want me, broken and a little vulnerable. But you’ve got it all wrong,” Hope responded coldly. “That’s when I’m at my best.”

  “I think your hormones are getting the best of you.”

  They locked eyes and a game of chicken ensued until Hope was blessed with the satisfaction of seeing her boss’s lip twitch.

  “If my hormones were getting the best of me, I would’ve already been on the other side of this desk wiping that smirk off your face.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “No. I’m simply done with you.” Hope pushed away from the desk. “I’m nobody’s bitch.”

  “You’re quitting?” Triumph gleamed in her eyes.

  “Absolutely not. You’re going to offer me a severance package that I can’t refuse.” Samantha opened her mouth to protest, but Hope cut her off. “Plus all of my unused leave. You’re going to play nice or I’m going to walk straight out that door into the breakroom and encourage every other employee you’ve rear-ended to stand against you. And before you pretend to look appalled, you might want to consider the ramifications of what such a mess might cost you. Correction, what it would cost Boxco. Because I’m sure you’d be out on your ass in a matter of no time if corporate realized how anti-family you are.”

  Arrogance dimmed from Samantha’s eyes. Concern slowly spread over her petite features turning her face cherry red. She swallowed . . . hard.

  Hope froze, the smile spreading across her face as rigid as hand-blown glass. “I’ll be expecting your email by the end of the day.”

  Without waiting for a response, Hope marched out of Samantha’s office, past the team members scurrying from the hallway into their offices, and out the front
door. As she pulled out of the parking lot of Boxco, Hope had no idea what her future held, but one thing was certain, she’d never take shit from Samantha again.

  Later that day, the silver fortune cookie made a clinking sound as Hope logged into her computer. She scrolled through dozens of emails, searching for the phantom demotion notice, but there was nothing in her inbox from Samantha. However, an email from Tracy Giovanni captured her attention.

  A flurry of nerves fluttered in her stomach staring at the computer screen. Hope opened the email finding exactly what Tracy promised, an offer she could hardly refuse. The offer spelled out the key terms including the title of Master Sommelier and Estate Manager, job duties and responsibilities, along with a six-figure salary and a signing bonus.

  Tightness in her throat stifled her voice. Hope lowered her chin to her chest, whispering to her belly, “We can’t just pick up and leave, can we?” Wasting zero seconds, she surmised, “Why can’t we just pick up and leave? What do you think . . . baby? How do you feel about a fresh new start in Italy? Just you and me.”

  IN THE LAST THREE MONTHS, she’d agreed to be a surrogate, gotten pregnant, lost her sister and brother-in-law, quit her job, listed her loft with a vacation rental site, handed back the keys to her leased Mazda Miata, met with a very unhappy Dr. Ace Freeman, endured the worst Christmas ever and, according to Riley and Faith’s attorney, she was about to receive a large inheritance . . . one million dollars to be exact. So of course, picking up and moving to Italy seemed like a most logical plan.

  The term vulnerable didn’t sit well in Hope’s life strategy plan. The idea of being open and trusting interpreted to weak and powerless, not to mention it opened the door for feelings. The emotional scars of her past taught her to keep that door shut tight. Yet, intimate details of Hope’s life flowed fluently from her lips as she spoke to Tracy, sharing the painful circumstances life had laid at her feet.

  During a long excruciating phone call, Tracy assured that the offer still stood regardless if she were pregnant. Hope had already obtained a Visa, so they hashed out specifics pertaining to documentation for a stay permit and agreed on a start date of February 1st, giving her plenty of time to settle in. Tracy graciously extended an invitation, insisting Hope stay in a small apartment on property for as long as it took for to find her own place. Too exhausted to decline, Hope accepted the kind gesture.

  Sitting on the tarmac waiting for takeoff, Hope stared at the vacant date boxes on the blank calendar on her iPad. For the first time in a decade, her schedule was empty.

  There was only one loose end she needed to tie up.

  Opening her email, Hope entered Antonio’s address. Bypassing the subject line, she typed and deleted several rough drafts, all of which included two words Hey Antonio. Previously, writing a quick flurry of words, giving him a little advanced notice that she’d be traveling to Italy, were her favorite emails. However, now her fingers didn’t have the courage to express the story she needed to tell. It seemed impossible for her to get beyond his name. Powering down her computer, she decided it would be best to talk to Antonio face to face after she got settled.

  January and February brought the harshest of days and the slowest time of year to the region. The cold bleak weather an instant reminder of what she’d left behind in Washington, yet the dormant Tuscan landscape, row after row of bare vines, golden rolling hills, and leafless trees, warmed her to the bone.

  Nervous excitement gathered in the pit of her stomach walking through the grand entrance of Amore Mio Winery. The few snippets of doubt that had seeped into her thoughts as she prepared for her new career now vanished, leaving only an unmeasurable dose of enthusiasm.

  Tracy greeted her with open arms and a wholesome smile. “I’m so glad you’re here. I know you’ll make the perfect addition to the winery.”

  “I’m thrilled to be here. It’s the start of a brand new career and a new life.”

  Tracy reached out and took Hope’s hand, giving her fingers a little squeeze. “I’m so sorry about your sister and her husband. Please know that if there’s anything you need or if there’s anything I can do, even if you just need a shoulder to lean on, I’m here for you.”

  Tracy bore a gentle kindness, a familiar warmness, that reminded her of Faith. Hope felt oddly at ease in her presence.

  A small involuntary smile tipped the corner of Hope’s mouth. She blinked back the wetness threatening to spill from the lower lids. “Thank you.”

  As if sensing Hope’s need not to dwell, Tracy clapped her hands together, replacing her empathy with eager enthusiasm. “Shall we go see your office?”

  Work and her career had always been Hope’s passion, her one great love. It filled her life with joy and pride and drive. It’d been a long time since those feelings had stirred inside her veins and she didn’t want to wait one more minute. “Yes! I’m ready.”

  Tracy led Hope to the office next door. Warm, earth-toned colors and soft textures infused with rustic elements created a casual yet sophisticated space. The winter afternoon sun helped warm the thick stone walls. Dressed in layers, Hope untied the cashmere scarf from her neck and removed her wool trench coat. She moseyed around the room, taking in the mix of new and old décor. An underlying current of happiness danced through her veins as if a heavy linkage of chain had been removed from around her chest.

  Too many days had passed since a genuine smile fed her soul. It felt as if sunbeams had pushed through the thick dark clouds, and even though the rays were broken and fragmented, they still warmed her face.

  “This is gorgeous, Tracy.”

  “Feel free to change whatever you’d like. I want you to be comfortable here. Originally, I expected this to be Vincent’s office, but he prefers to be in a more natural setting. He loves to be out in the field or in the cellar.” Her head bobbled jokingly in annoyance, but she sported an amorous smile.

  “His loss is definitely my gain. Be sure and tell him thank you for me. I couldn’t have dreamed of a more perfect design.”

  Tracy handed her a ring of keys. “You can come and go as you please over the next several weeks, but there’s no pressure for you to start working yet. It’s our slowest time of year and with everything you’ve been through, let’s take our time with the transition. If you’re ready by the beginning of February, great, but if not, we can work things out through the end of the month.”

  “Thank you, but I like to stay busy. I work more efficiently when my plate is full.”

  Tracy ambled to the corner of the room and picked up one of three boxes stacked in the corner. “I put some home goods together for you. Let’s get out of here so you can get settled into the apartment.”

  Hope slung her jacket and purse over an arm and picked up one of the boxes.

  “Whoa. Hold on. You shouldn’t be lifting that.” Hearing footsteps on the stone pavers outside the office, Tracy popped her head out the door.

  “It’s not a prob—”

  “Perfect timing,” Tracy exclaimed. “Antonio, can you help us carry a few boxes to the car?”

  “Si.”

  Hearing his deep rich voice sent an electrifying jolt through her limbs causing her to flinch. Her eyes darted around the room searching for a place to hide as a rush of heat licked up her neck, flushing her cheeks.

  Stepping into the office, Antonio nearly skidded to a halt catching sight of Hope. His eyes widened in surprise, but softened after two beats, pinning her with a sexy smile. Confusion and happiness laced across his forehead in subtle grooves.

  “Ciao, Hope. What are you doing here?”

  A leggy brunette wearing a casual black dress, red peacoat, and a face full of makeup entered the office. Making a quick observation of Antonio’s body language, the woman at his side inched closer and slipped an arm through his, silently taking possession.

  “Ciao,” Hope croaked. She prayed for more words, but none found their way to her mouth. Three separate feelings impeded her brain: guilt for not sending the ema
il, an unusual jolt to her heart that felt a bit like jealously, and the strong urge to bury her face against his broad chest and tell him everything she’d been through since they’d last spoken. None of which were normal.

  Shaking off nerves, Hope took a deep inhale, squaring her shoulders as Antonio freed himself from the clutches of the beautiful woman and sauntered toward her. Antonio always took her breath away, but the man looked absolutely virile with the afternoon sun silhouetting his wide shoulders and narrow waist. Stepping beyond the shadow of the cast sunlight, his grey eyes hit her full-force sending an ache into the pit of her stomach.

  The twinkle in his eyes loosened the knot of anxiety in her stomach, but only for a fraction of a second. Extending a hand, his long fingers encircled around hers in a familiar squeeze. The scent of him, light and intoxicating, sent a shiver up her spine. Hope’s eyes fluttered shut, tilting her face upward anticipating his customary greeting, a kiss to both cheeks.

  Her eyes remained shut waiting to feel the warmth of his full lips; she squirmed inwardly, feeling a round of clenching fire off from down below.

  Still waiting, she opened her eyes.

  Desire and longing warmed his shocked expression as he stood over her. His gaze lingered from the pieces of long wavy hair cascading over one shoulder, to the open collar of her fitted sapphire blouse, to the soft edges of her face, studying every inch.

  “Hope is now the Master Sommelier and Estate Manager for Amore Mio.” Tracy’s voice garbled, buried behind the thundering of Hope’s heartbeat.

  Intrigued, Antonio’s brows lifted, processing the news. She stared up at him praying to convey so much with merely a look. She hadn’t expected to see him so soon and she didn’t expect to feel such an innate impulse to break down. The longing to unload pulled painfully at her heartstrings.

  Her chin inched higher toward the heat of his breath as if in a gravitational pull. A rogue grin broke across his lips right before pressing them to both sides of her cheeks. Hope twisted, brushing the side of her head to his temple, briefly holding their connection, extending a private hello.