Yes, she did feel a connection to this slice of Italy perched between the sea and the mountains. But she thought it was more because of Giorgio’s presence. He was the lens through which she had focused so intensely. But she couldn’t stay in the Cinque Terre forever.
“And your country, does it call to you?” She hoped so, because he couldn’t exactly give two weeks’ notice and pack up.
“Yes, but in a different way. I hear the call of my father and my mother, the call of my ancestors who ruled Vinciguerra and fought for her people. I know it’s my solemn duty to protect them and make sure they thrive in a modern world while preserving our national heritage.”
“That’s a big job. No wonder you’re so serious.” Their main course arrived, a whole fish that had been wandering around in the Ligurian Sea that morning.
Giorgio served them each a portion, the fish flaking enticingly under his fork. “Eh, too serious according to my sister. She thinks I need to lighten up. Be sure to drink your wine with the fish. The waiter says if you drink water with fish, it will start swimming around in your stomach.” He grinned at her.
Renata sipped some wine. No reanimated fish for her. “Maybe Stefania should cut you some slack since she’s not the one in charge of a country and several thousand people.” Renata winced after that. Criticizing his sister was probably a dumb idea. He loved her very much. She stuffed some fish into her mouth to shut herself up. Holy cow, were they all geniuses in the kitchen here or just this restaurant? She’d have to get the recipe for her mother.
But he wasn’t offended. “No, you are both correct. I do need to lighten up and yes, I am the one in charge of a country. However, do not let my people hear you say I am in charge of them. They are even more stiff-necked than I am and do not hesitate to point out my errors. I don’t know why I ever introduced technology like the internet and email to Vinciguerra.” He stopped to dip some fish into the garlicky olive oil and hummed in appreciation.
“Before, they had to buy the newspaper, read it and then either call the palazzo or mail me a letter to complain. Now all they have to do is read electronic news on their phones and immediately text me to tell me what exactly I am doing wrong. I should have left them in the twentieth century.” But he was grinning as he said this. “I even had to hire a nineteen-year-old email assistant to decipher the acronyms and lack of vowels. I can tell you I wasn’t LOL-ing.”
Renata did LOL—laugh out loud. His affection for his country and his subjects—if they even considered themselves as such—was evident. “They boss you around terribly, don’t they?”
“It’s like I have thousands of nosy but well-meaning aunts and uncles.” He raised his wineglass and gestured to the terrace. “Which is why we are here and not in Vinciguerra. No privacy there whatsoever.”
“What a pair we are. I have to fly across the Atlantic and you have to sneak out of your country for any time together.”
He brushed the corner of her mouth with his thumb. “I would have swum the Mediterranean Sea to be with you.”
“How sweet.” An unfamiliar wave of mushy sentiment swirled up into her throat as she heard herself practically coo at the man. But she couldn’t help it. Large helpings of delicious food, romantic settings and of course hot sex with a capital H and a capital S .
“How true.” He slid his arm around her shoulder. “When I’m with you, you are my only responsibility. I’ve let my duties deprive me of the normal pleasures of being a man. I’m grateful you reminded me.”
Renata played with the fish with her fork. “I’ve been working like a madwoman for the past several years. I was full-time at the traditional bridal salon and spent evenings and days off designing fun dresses and writing my business plan. I finally opened Peacock Designs two years ago and work even harder
“And your country, does it call to you?” She hoped so, because he couldn’t exactly give two weeks’ notice and pack up.
“Yes, but in a different way. I hear the call of my father and my mother, the call of my ancestors who ruled Vinciguerra and fought for her people. I know it’s my solemn duty to protect them and make sure they thrive in a modern world while preserving our national heritage.”
“That’s a big job. No wonder you’re so serious.” Their main course arrived, a whole fish that had been wandering around in the Ligurian Sea that morning.
Giorgio served them each a portion, the fish flaking enticingly under his fork. “Eh, too serious according to my sister. She thinks I need to lighten up. Be sure to drink your wine with the fish. The waiter says if you drink water with fish, it will start swimming around in your stomach.” He grinned at her.
Renata sipped some wine. No reanimated fish for her. “Maybe Stefania should cut you some slack since she’s not the one in charge of a country and several thousand people.” Renata winced after that. Criticizing his sister was probably a dumb idea. He loved her very much. She stuffed some fish into her mouth to shut herself up. Holy cow, were they all geniuses in the kitchen here or just this restaurant? She’d have to get the recipe for her mother.
But he wasn’t offended. “No, you are both correct. I do need to lighten up and yes, I am the one in charge of a country. However, do not let my people hear you say I am in charge of them. They are even more stiff-necked than I am and do not hesitate to point out my errors. I don’t know why I ever introduced technology like the internet and email to Vinciguerra.” He stopped to dip some fish into the garlicky olive oil and hummed in appreciation.
“Before, they had to buy the newspaper, read it and then either call the palazzo or mail me a letter to complain. Now all they have to do is read electronic news on their phones and immediately text me to tell me what exactly I am doing wrong. I should have left them in the twentieth century.” But he was grinning as he said this. “I even had to hire a nineteen-year-old email assistant to decipher the acronyms and lack of vowels. I can tell you I wasn’t LOL-ing.”
Renata did LOL—laugh out loud. His affection for his country and his subjects—if they even considered themselves as such—was evident. “They boss you around terribly, don’t they?”
“It’s like I have thousands of nosy but well-meaning aunts and uncles.” He raised his wineglass and gestured to the terrace. “Which is why we are here and not in Vinciguerra. No privacy there whatsoever.”
“What a pair we are. I have to fly across the Atlantic and you have to sneak out of your country for any time together.”
He brushed the corner of her mouth with his thumb. “I would have swum the Mediterranean Sea to be with you.”
“How sweet.” An unfamiliar wave of mushy sentiment swirled up into her throat as she heard herself practically coo at the man. But she couldn’t help it. Large helpings of delicious food, romantic settings and of course hot sex with a capital H and a capital S .
“How true.” He slid his arm around her shoulder. “When I’m with you, you are my only responsibility. I’ve let my duties deprive me of the normal pleasures of being a man. I’m grateful you reminded me.”
Renata played with the fish with her fork. “I’ve been working like a madwoman for the past several years. I was full-time at the traditional bridal salon and spent evenings and days off designing fun dresses and writing my business plan. I finally opened Peacock Designs two years ago and work even harder
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