The Italians: Rico, Antonio and Giovanni. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      THE following morning, Rico took Ella to the Vatican on the Metro. As they walked through the museum, Ella was amazed to learn that they were actually walking on original Roman mosaic floors, ones which might once have lain in an emperor’s villa; and then on marble floors that had once graced the Colosseum itself. The tapestries and sculptures were beautiful too, but what really stunned her was the Sistine Chapel.

      ‘I didn’t think it would be this huge,’ she said to Rico. One corner had been left dark, so you could see how much work had gone into the restoration of the chapel and cleaning the paintwork. Ella just stood and gazed at the paintings, loving the depth to the blue sky. And the famous view of God reaching out to Adam with his finger, something she’d seen on postcards and in magazines, was much more awe-inspiring in real life.

      ‘That was really incredible,’ she said to Rico as they left the chapel to go to St Peter’s. ‘I honestly wasn’t expecting it to be that special. Thank you so much for bringing me here.’

      Outside, there were the two Swiss guards with their saffron-and-purple striped uniforms, and the guide pointed out the building that contained the Pope’s apartment and the window where he gave the blessing every Sunday.

      The church itself was gorgeous, and Ella lingered by Michelangelo’s Pietà. ‘It’s amazing to think that he was only twenty-four when he carved it. Four years younger than I am now.’

      ‘Doing what he loved. Making the most of his gift,’ Rico said. ‘Which is what you’re about to do, too.’

      ‘I hope so. Though sometimes I wake up and wonder just how crazy I am, setting up a new business in the middle of a recession.’

      ‘You already have a customer base, and word of mouth will bring you more. And when you have transferable skills that you can use to keep your cash flow ticking over, if you really need to. No, you’re not crazy at all,’ Rico said. ‘You’re doing the right thing. And when you’re old, you can look back without regrets or wondering what would’ve happened if you’d given your dreams a chance.’

      ‘I guess so.’

      They wandered back outside into the sunshine, and Rico showed Ella the disappearing columns.

      ‘That’s clever.’

      ‘And you’re thinking about how you can use that on a cake, aren’t you?’ he asked, smiling.

      ‘Something like that,’ she admitted. She looked at the obelisk in the centre of the square. ‘I take it that that’s another of the Egyptian obelisks that seem to be everywhere?’

      ‘Yup. Caligula brought it to Rome, and it was moved here from Nero’s circus by the order of Pope Sixtus V,’ Rico told her. ‘Apparently, it took four months to move it across Rome, and the men who moved it had to do it in silence, on pain of death.’

      ‘Wow. That’s a bit harsh. I assume that’s another medieval thing, like the Mouth of Truth biting off the hands of liars?’

      ‘Roman history’s not totally gory,’ Rico said, laughing.

      ‘Gladiators, Nero, Caligula … I rest my case.’ She spread her hands, laughing back.

      They walked back into the city, stopping every so often to look at the gorgeous cakes in the windows of the pasticcieri. There were lilacs and orange trees everywhere, and Ella loved every second of it.

      As they crossed the Tiber Ella asked, ‘Can I take you to dinner tonight?’

      She wanted to take him to dinner? That was a first. Normally, Rico did the asking. And normally, Rico did the paying. The only time someone else offered to treat him, there was usually an ulterior motive—an obvious one at that. Not being able to see a motive made him feel out of his depth, to the point where he was lost for words.

      ‘Sorry. Of course you’re probably busy. I assumed too much,’ she said when he was silent.

      ‘No, I’m not busy. And, yes, I’d like to have dinner with you.’

      ‘And it’s my bill,’ Ella said firmly.

      That was what he didn’t get. He couldn’t help asking, ‘Why?’

      ‘You cooked for me, that first night. Obviously I can’t return the favour because I don’t have access to a kitchen here, so the best I can offer is buying you a meal in a restaurant.’ She smiled. ‘I would say let’s go to the swishest restaurant in Rome, but I’d guess you have to make a reservation months in advance, and anyway I don’t really have anything suitable to wear.’

      ‘Plus it would be incredibly expensive. Michelin stars and what have you don’t come cheap,’ he warned.

      She shrugged. ‘The money doesn’t matter. Remember, I won all that money, and I’m under budget here anyway. I can afford it.’

      Rico hid a smile. Ella might be planning a new career as a baker, but she still talked like an accountant.

      ‘And anyway, it’d be a treat for me as well,’ she added, as if trying to persuade him.

      ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he said. ‘I have a few connections.’

      She smiled. ‘Thank you.’

      ‘Let’s have a coffee and I’ll make some phone calls.’

      He gulped his lukewarm espresso down, as usual, and made a few calls. Luckily Ella’s Italian was nowhere near good enough to follow what he was saying. There was one particular restaurant he had in mind; the food was stunning, and there was always a huge waiting list to get a table. But it also happened to be owned by a very good friend of his, and if there was a chance he could call in a favour …

      He was in luck. The maître d’ also agreed to let him settle most of the bill beforehand and give Ella a much smaller bill at the end of the night, to Rico’s relief. No way was he letting her pay for a meal that costly, lottery win or no lottery win. And sorting this out beforehand meant that he was still in control. No surprises.

      ‘The good news is, I have a reservation for us at eight tonight,’ he said when he’d finished the call. ‘The bad news … Do you have a little black dress with you?’

      She grimaced. ‘No.’

      ‘It might be an idea to buy one.’ Normally, he’d just go to the Via Condotti with his current girlfriend and let her loose in the designer shops with his credit card. But he had a feeling that Ella would refuse to let him buy her a dress and shoes. And if he explained that he could afford it—and could more than afford to take her out to one of the fanciest restaurants in Rome every night of the week—he had a feeling that she’d react badly. She’d told him at the park that she didn’t like lying or game-playing. Though he wasn’t playing games—merely taking the chance to be seen for who he was, for once, rather than for what he stood for. And surely one little white lie wasn’t that bad?