A Villa in Sicily: Cannoli and a Casualty Read online

  “Cut! Cut!” Nessa’s voice screeched from somewhere. Audrey wasn’t sure where, because of the temporary blindness. All she knew was that, surprise, surprise, Nessa didn’t sound happy.

  Audrey had a good feeling that it was probably something she had done. “Sorry,” she mumbled preemptively, cringing as she reached her front stoop and fumbled for her keys. “If you just let me get inside, I’ll—”

  Somewhere, closer, she heard Nessa snarl, “So? What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Audrey blinked away the starbursts in her vision to find the blonde, heavily made-up for filming, staring at her, hands on her hips, toe tapping. She was wearing an apron and holding a hand spade, as if she intended to commit murder with it.

  “Hi, Nessa!” Audrey said brightly. “How’s Snowball?”

  Nessa seemed surprised by the sweetness in her tone. “She’s fine. Just fine.”

  Audrey still wasn’t fully convinced that Nessa hadn’t adopted the pure white kitten just to add another point of interest to her reality show, since the show was Nessa’s life. She barely spoke of anything else. “That’s good to hear.”

  “Don’t change the subject,” she groused, pointing at the camera crew. “You walked right into our frame!”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were filming.”

  “Of course I was. Aren’t I always? All these cameras hanging around didn’t give it away? And it was finally perfect until you and your big nose walked into it.”

  Audrey touched her nose. No, it was a tiny little upturned ski-slope like Nessa’s, but she didn’t think it was big. “Sorry, but I do need to get to my house from time to time.”

  “You have a back door, don’t you? And there’s an alley over there, right? We’ve done this take fifteen times,” Nessa muttered, pointing to one of the flower beds that was half-planted with roses.

  “Fifteen? I thought these reality television shows were supposed to be unscripted?”

  Nessa rolled her eyes as if to say, amateurs. “Daylight’s gone now. Oh well.” She clapped her hands. “Come on, guys! Make-up? Do I look okay? Get me some powder. I feel shiny. Let’s get this next take lined up!”

  Escaping, Audrey went quickly to her stoop with her key at the ready. She unlocked the door and went inside, nearly clipping off Nick’s tail as he trailed in behind her. As she closed the door, she heard Nessa speaking in an unusually chipper voice to the camera. “Working in the garden is one of my favorite ways to relax! I absolutely love planting my roses once the sun goes down and it’s not so hot!”

  Audrey shook her head, happy to close out the sounds of the filming outside. She went to the kitchen table and cut the apple for Nick, leaving it in his bowl. In the dishrack, she found a spoon and pulled off the top of her bean soup, inhaling the savory scent of it.

  Sitting down at the kitchen bistro table, taking a scoop of it, she pulled out her phone to text Rafael. She’d just written half the message: I’m sorry, but I can’t when someone rapped on the door.

  “It’s open,” she called, hoping it wasn’t Nessa again.

  When the door pushed open, though, a gigantic beast filled the doorway, then rushed forward into her arms, nearly knocking her from the table. Somewhere, Nick hissed and scurried off. Her soup went flying to the ground as she was covered in warm, wet dog kisses.

  “Polpetto!” she whined. Ordinarily, she’d have loved dog kisses—she was a vet, after all. But her beautiful soup. She stared at it, splattered on the ground and her lap, not mourning so much that she’d have to clean it up but that she’d desperately wanted it in her belly.

  On cue, her stomach growled.

  She grabbed the giant mastiff by the collar and stared at the open door. “Uh, Mason?” she called.

  A second later, her GQ-cover-gorgeous friend appeared. “Hey, Boston,” he said, pointing out the door. “Just chatting with Nessa. She ain’t so happy with Polpetto. Messed up her shot.”

  “She’s not happy with anyone,” Audrey pointed out, blotting at the hot liquid seeping into her pants.

  “She seems to like me okay.” He winked.

  Audrey’s heartstrings gave a sad twang. Nessa had as much charm as a shark, but she was just beautiful enough that it didn’t matter. Men seemed to flock to her anyway. She hated the thought of Mason, her dear friend, being taken in by that. “Oh. Close the door before the insects get in.”

  “Sure, I—” He suddenly noticed her and the mess as he bumped the door shut. “Whoa, girl. You don’t look right. What happened to you?”

  “Ya think? An uncontrolled Polpetto happened to me.”

  His mouth made an O. He took the giant dog by the collar and wagged a finger at him. “What I tell you, boy? You don’t do things like that.”

  Polpetto’s excited tail-wagging ceased and he hung his head.

  “Aw,” Audrey said. She never could stand the sight of a scolded pup. She took his face in her hands and started to rub his big jowls. “Don’t worry, little Polpie. It’s okay. You’re forgiven.”

  The excited wagging resumed, and when she let him go, he started to lap up the soup from the floor with his massive tongue.

  “Besides,” she added, “your owner should’ve been watching over you a little better.”

  Mason winced. “Sure, make me the bad guy,” he said, watching him eat. “That gonna hurt him?”

  She shook her head. “At least someone should enjoy it. He’s probably going to do a better job than my mop.”

  “Sorry about that. Which reminds me,” he said, pulling a little tray out from behind his back. “Had this left over from my dinner tonight.”

  Audrey’s mouth started to water as the smell of bacon hit her. The only thing she liked more than ciambotta and bean soup was Mason Legare’s famous down-home southern cooking. She sniffed some more. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Kentucky Hot Brown.”

  “Yum!” She clapped her hands and practically pounced on it, determined to have her way with it before Polpetto did. “Thank you. I’ll almost forgive you for ruining my outfit.”

  He looked down at it and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. About that. Sorry.”

  She smiled at the gentlemanly way he averted his eyes when she shrugged off her shirt. There was nothing inappropriate about it—she was wearing a T-shirt underneath. But he always did things like that, surprising, thoughtful things that most men wouldn’t think to do.

  If only I was more like my older sister, Sabrina, when it came to men, she thought. He’d be eating out of the palm of my hand by now.

  It seemed like their relationship was full of stops and starts, so even though he was her closest friend in Sicily, there was still so much awkwardness between them. She hated that they couldn’t seem to ever be in the same place when it came to dating. There was always something getting in the way. “It’s all right. Would you like some wine?”

  He nodded. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

  She hopped over Polpetto’s sleeping body—he’d devoured the food and conked out on the rug—and grabbed the wine from the shelf, pouring each of them a glass.

  But if I had been like my sister, she thought as she placed the wine in front of Mason, I’d be content with Boston, and married with two kids by now. I’d never have even thought about moving to Sicily.

  And that would’ve been a shame. Though she’d had her share of travesties, it had been, for the most part, a good experience.

  “What are you thinking?” he said before taking a sip.

  She smiled. “Oh. Just about all the amazing things that have happened in the past few months. Like opening the vet office, getting all those pets adopted, learning Sicilian culture, making this house into a home . . .”

  He nodded. “Meeting me . . .”

  “Of course,” she said with a laugh, digging into her delicious Hot Brown. Mouth full, she said, “Can’t forget that.”

  There was a long silence as she devoured her food. Meanwhile, Mason just watched her, which was a little uncomfortable. She was about to ask him how his day was when he added, “And your run-in with the mafia. That was a big, red-letter moment.”

  Audrey’s smile fell and she winced. She knew he would find a way to swing the conversation around to that. She just knew it. “Yes . . .”

  “So,” he said innocently, and she knew exactly what the next words out of his mouth were going to be. “You make any decisions on that invitation you got? Where was that family gathering again? Corsica?”

  “Corleone,” she muttered, taking a sip from her wine. She looked at her food. The conversation wasn’t enough to make her lose her appetite—she could never lose her appetite where Kentucky Hot Browns were concerned—but close. “I know you think it’s dangerous, but I came here for new—”

  “Yeah, you’ve done some pretty crazy things in your time here, girl, but if you go to that, you got to be plumb stupid,” he said with a nod. “You better make sure you say your goodbyes before you go, ’cause there’s a good chance you ain’t coming back.”

  “Oh, come on. Rafael is not that bad!” she said. Again, Audrey couldn’t tell what was jealousy, and what was mere concern over her well-being. “His family didn’t invite me just so they could off me. What would be the purpose in that? They invited me because they like me. They appreciate me and want to thank me. As bad as the mafia is, they actually don’t go around killing people they like.”

  “So you are going.” His face fell.

  She opened her mouth to tell him that she’d made the decision not to go.

  But then he said, “I’m tellin’ you, it’s a mistake.”

  She gnashed her teeth. Just who did he think he was, telling her what she could and couldn’t do? He couldn’t even bring himself to kiss h
er. Just one, stupid kiss. And yet he wanted to dictate her life? They weren’t even dating.

  “But maybe it’s not.”

  “Maybe it is.”

  She stared him down. Just one little kiss. Give me one little kiss, and maybe I’ll all but forget that trip. But he just pushed away from the desk, his body rigid, so rigid, she could see the tight, corded muscles flexing in his biceps.

  Just then, someone else rapped on the door, and Polpetto jumped to attention, barking up a storm.

  “Shh, Polpy,” she said, calming him as she nudged past him to the foyer.

  She opened the door to find Rafael himself standing there with a basket of oranges.

  “Oh! Rafael! How nice to see you!” she gushed, just to drive it home that Mason had no say in what she did or didn’t do. “Come in.”

  She took the oranges from him and beamed at them. Truthfully, she hated oranges, but she hadn’t been able to tell Rafael that after the last three buckets he delivered. Though she really couldn’t imagine a man like Rafael, who probably wore suits to bed, standing outside in the blazing sun, picking the oranges by hand—he likely hired people for that—it had been a nice thought. She’d simply thanked him and quietly distributed the fruit among her neighbors.

  He stepped inside, all smiles, until he saw Polpetto, who growled at him, and Mason, who wasn’t much better. His posture was rigid as he stood up.

  “Oh,” Rafael said, still pleasantly, but with a slight edge. “I didn’t know you had company.”

  “We were just leaving,” Mason grumbled, glaring at Audrey. The temperature in the room seemed to skyrocket.

  Audrey sighed. “Mason, don’t be silly. You don’t have to go anywhere. We’re all neighbors, here.”

  “No, no, I’ve got things to do anyway,” he said, clearly determined to leave no matter what she said. “I’ll see you later.”

  And though he went through the door without another word, she was sure he had plenty he wanted to say to her.

  But no kiss. And without the kiss, she decided, she was free to make her own decisions about what she did or didn’t do when it came to the Piccolos’ invitation.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Audrey wasn’t an expert on the mafia, but if she had to pick out a mobster from a line-up, Rafael, with his dark suit, tousled black hair, and sharp features, would probably be her first choice. Even now, though they were friends, his presence made her tongue-tied and anxious. Well, she was usually tongue-tied and anxious around men, but Rafael Piccolo took that to a whole new level. It was nothing he did, so much as just knowing that he was from a powerful mafia family.

  She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled at him. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I can’t drop by simply to deliver my bounty?” he asked with a wink, pointing at the oranges.

  She knew there was more to it than that. Every time he’d come into town, he’d asked her questions about the town, quizzing her. She had a feeling that he had other motives. She just wasn’t sure what they were. “Oh, you can. But the walk from your grove up to town is five hundred steps, straight up. It’s not exactly easy. There has to be more to it than that.”

  He smiled. “You are right. Do you not remember what I asked you before?”

  She suddenly realized what it was. Last time he’d brought her oranges, he’d said, I will be waiting with bated breath for your answer.

  Her stomach sank. Why had she brought it up?

  “Yes, I do . . .” she said, her eyes trailing to the floor. What were the chances a meteor would strike and she wouldn’t have to answer? She pretended to be distracted by something in the kitchen. “Oh! Uh, where are my manners? I was just having wine and finishing my dinner. Would you like some?”

  He nodded and sat down in the chair across from her that had previously been Mason’s. She took away Mason’s glass and filled a new one for Rafael. As she did, she caught him eyeing her plate.

  “That’s a Hot Brown,” she explained. “Or, part of one. Mason’s always delivering his southern food to me because he knows I work late.”

  “How nice of him.”

  “Yes, he’s a good friend.” She sat across from him and noticed he was wearing loafers without socks, a look no American would ever get away with. And yet, it fit him. He seemed so comfortable, even in his suit.

  She started to dig into the rest of her food, avoiding his eyes, when he reached out and grabbed her hand. “Audrey.”

  She had no choice but to look at him. “Hmm?”

  “Audrey, you’re avoiding the question. Why?”

  She bit her tongue. “I’m not, I’m just . . .”

  “I will ask you again. My family invited you to their home for their family reunion, at my request. I’m leaving tomorrow morning for Corleone. I wanted to know if you’d like to drive over with me.”

  She looked into his eyes. He’d requested it. As much as she’d have liked to believe that this was just because she’d helped him out with that little scrape last month, when he looked at her this way, held her hand like this, she thought it had to be something else.

  Thus, her confusion. Why couldn’t the men in her life just say what they meant, for once? “I know. I’ve been thinking about it, but . . .”

  “If you are afraid that I will take advantage of you, please be assured that you will be perfectly safe. My whole family will be there, most you already know from that dinner. You will like them all, and enjoy it tremendously.”

  “Your whole family will be there?”

  “Yes. Some of them are Americans, like you, too. We all speak English. Do not worry that you won’t find friends. You will fit right in. Trust me.”

  She managed a smile. “It’s not that. I’m just so busy. With renovations around here, and . . . of course there’s the vet. I am the only one in town, so it’s difficult for me to break away.”

  This was all untrue. Sure, she had those things to worry about, but the renovations could wait a couple of days. And Concetta had told Audrey that if she wanted to go, she should. The young vet student was more than capable of handling the center for a few days. There were no pressing engagements keeping her from saying yes.

  But as much as she hated to admit it, Mason was right. And Concetta had confirmed it. She was right to feel uneasy. She should’ve put her foot down and declined the invitation weeks ago. Now, she was in the hotseat, and with him looking at her that way, it was hard to back out.

  He shook his head and made a tutting sound. “Just for one weekend, really?”

  “One weekend is a very long time in the veterinary business. I have a bunny with GI stasis, and—”

  “Yes, but it’s just two days. You come Saturday. Then right back on Sunday evening. Yes?”

  She frowned and began to shake her head. “Well, as much as I like it—”

  “My grandfather, Don Piccolo, our esteemed patriarch, personally requested your presence, you know, with my father, Carmine, the acting don. They would both be deeply offended if you said no.”

  “Yes, but if you explained to them—”

  “An invitation like that, one from on high, is not something you turn down,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “There is no explanation that will satisfy either of those men. They are used to getting whatever they request. You see?”

  “But I—”

  He gazed at her with such intensity that she could sense a hidden meaning. A horrible scene flashed in front of her eyes—men in dark suits, beating down her door and dragging her into the streets, sneering. “Don Piccolo requested your attendance and you dishonored our family! Death to you and all you love!”

  She shivered at the thought.

  Her attendance at this family reunion wasn’t just requested.

  It was mandatory.

  That was why he’d been coming around, lightly coaxing her to say yes. Now, it was a demand. She had no choice. “If I need to be there, why didn’t you just say so?”

  He shrugged. She got the feeling there was a lot of innuendo in his family, a lot of rules that were unspoken but instinctively obeyed if a person knew what was good for him. Maybe that was why she still had no clue if he was romantically interested in her, or just trying to get her to come so they wouldn’t have to deal with the messy task of gunning her down in the middle of the street. “So I will pick you up tomorrow? Say eleven?”