CHAPTER TWO
‘Un vino bianco per favore,’ she requested, squinting at the bar menu. She’d never heard of most of the drinks on there, but as an afterthought added, ‘E una grappa.’ She had never tried grappa but it sounded a bit like gripe and she certainly had a few of those, so she figured now was as good a time as any to give it a go.
The bartender placed a glass of white wine in front of her and, with a small frown, added a delicate tulip-shaped glass. He filled it with a clear liquid and she smiled her thanks, cradling them both in her hands possessively. She didn’t intend to share – though the odds of her having to were slight.
Lifting the glass of grappa to eye level she inspected it carefully. It was a very small drink and it didn’t smell particularly exciting, but it was icy cold, which was interesting. She inhaled and lifted the drink to her lips. It was now or never. The fumes coming off it were enough to make her giddy and she wished she could hold her nose as she downed it. She threw back her head and swallowed. An involuntary shiver ran through her as she set the glass on the bar with a bit more of a slam than she intended.
The barman watched with interest as he polished glasses with a tea towel. Sapphire gave him a look, daring him to comment, as she moved on to the wine, lifting the glass upwards like a chalice before bringing it to her lips and taking a big gulp. It was sour as hell and she grimaced as the taste buds on her tongue shrivelled in complaint. The grappa was just about the better of two evils but only because it was so cold she could hardly taste it. It crossed her mind that if Sister Mary Angela from the convent had allowed her to taste the chalice wine, she would have sworn off it of her own accord rather than being pressed to take the pledge.
But needs must, she thought, as she ordered another and downed it in one again, thinking that there should be a more pleasant way of obliterating her foolish notions of a future with Rick.
‘Give me another one. Make it a double. No, two doubles.’ Her hand wobbled slightly as she raised two fingers to the bartender. If she was going to go have a pity party she might as well make it a memorable one.
‘Are you a guest here?’ the barman asked, sizing her up as he pushed a small bowl towards her and motioned for her to eat. She nodded and peered into the bowl. The hard, brown squares looked like miniature dog biscuits and, uninterested, she slid her eyes away.
He swapped the bowl for one full of plump green olives, little plastic swords piercing their hearts. She knew how that felt and shook her head, muttering, ‘Poor olives.’
The bartender pushed a menu towards her but shrugged in defeat as he did so – it was obvious she was not here for food.
‘No, grazie.’ She gave him a small smile to let him know she appreciated the gesture; liquid food was all she needed. She took stock of her surroundings, thankful that the lights were dim and no one cared about a solitary female sitting at the bar, knocking back drinks faster than an alcoholic on death row. The lights flickered dimly around the room and a surreal glow filtered downwards from the ceiling. The bar had a domed glass ceiling Sapphire hadn’t noticed earlier and she tilted her head upwards to get a better view.
‘Lady, hold on, there.’
‘Sorry – sorry!’ She pulled away from the arms of the man who held her in a steely embrace as she wobbled precariously on her stool. ‘I was fascinated by the gorgeous glow from the skylight. I didn’t realise.’
‘What? That the sky was above it?’ His English was faultless, with just a hint of an accent. Unmistakably Italian eyes, dark and stern, fixed on hers, belying his smile.
‘Um ...’ She tried to gather her thoughts.
‘You didn’t know this bar is famous for its stained-glass ceiling, did you? The Mapping of the Heavens – all of the constellations are there.’ He cut across her mumbling, his voice clipped and precise.
‘Yes, of course I did. I came here to appreciate the constellations and, err, log them in my book – my stargazing log, ship, book thingy.’ She wrinkled her nose. Was she confusing stargazing with Star Trek?
‘Right. No other reason?’ he asked, the tight non-smile back in place. He looked her up and down, his gaze focusing on her red lips and the silk dress that revealed more cleavage than she would normally show in public. She bristled at his frank stare. Okay, so she had dressed to seduce. She didn’t know she’d be sitting in solitary splendour, in a bar, paying the price of a small island for foul drinks. ‘I came for a drink, too. I assume that is allowed in a bar?’
‘As long as you don’t intend to drink that.’ He nodded towards the champagne bottle she had thoughtlessly placed on the bar. ‘This is not a bring-your-own kind of hotel.’
His gaze somehow managed to make her feel cheap and she couldn’t understand why he was asking her such brash questions.
‘You are a guest at this hotel?’
‘Yes, although I don’t know what it has to do with you.’
The man looked over at the bartender, who nodded imperceptibly and said something in rapid Italian.
‘Your name is, Miss …?’
‘Montrose. Sapphire Montrose.’ She felt her face heat up. Why did this feel like an interrogation? She was in one of the best hotels in Florence and didn’t expect to be treated in such a way. His gaze settled on the rounded top of her breasts and the penny dropped. ‘What? You think I’m a prostitute?’
‘Not at all.’ The tight smile said otherwise.
The bartender spoke again and the dark-haired man nodded, satisfied.
‘I apologise. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Marco Cavarelli, the owner of this hotel.’
‘Hello, Marco Cavarelli.’ Sapphire drawled out his name and saluted him, almost toppling off her stool once more.
Mr Cavarelli put out a hand to steady her again. ‘We don’t normally see beautiful young women on their own at our bar in this most romantic of cities, that is all. I hope you enjoy your drink. Ah – more than one drink.’ He nodded towards the empty glasses lined up in front of her. ‘Drinks then. I hope they help you, Miss Montrose, with your problems, but in my experience alcohol tends to make things worse.’
She peered into her glass, squinting slightly. ‘I heard that the answer is always at the bottom of the glass. So, I’m looking for it.’
‘Do you know what the question is?’
‘Heck, no.’ She giggled. ‘Am I supposed to?’
The – very handsome, she noted – man’s smile loosened slightly, but Sapphire picked up on his underlying disapproval. She angled her head away from him, wanting to be left alone to continue on her path of self-destruction. But when she peered sideways he was still there. He looked so stern that she gave another nervous giggle.
He raised his forbidding eyebrows, once more.
‘Sorry. You reminded me of my old headmistress for a moment. She’s a nun. A really scary nun.’
Mr Cavarelli rested his arm on the bar, looking intrigued. ‘I don’t think I’ve been compared to a nun before.’
‘Yeah, she had a big black habit and a huge hooked nose.’ Sapphire pulled on her own nose. ‘Ow, that hurt.’ She grimaced as she rubbed her nose.
Her new friend looked amused. ‘Tell me more. What was her big bad habit?’
Sapphire thought this was one of the funniest things she had ever heard and she snorted with laughter. ‘Sorry.’ She put her hand up to her face to cover the embarrassing sound. ‘That’s hilarious, though.’
The hotel owner quirked an eyebrow, unmoved by the hilarity of his question.
She composed her face. ‘Not a bad habit, a black habit.’
‘Right.’ He still looked uncertain.
‘Long flowy thing.’ She ran her hands down her dress for emphasis. ‘And she was always giving me detention for dumb reasons.’
‘Dumb reasons?’ Mr Cavarelli turned enquiring eyes her way.
‘Yeah, like bringing an injured rabbit to the dormitory or feeding my dinner to the baby foxes. I mean, she’s a nun – she’s supposed to care about God’s creatures. Sorry, I’m going on a bit, aren’t I?’ She hiccupped and gulped. ‘Sorry. I really should stop saying sorry, shouldn’t I? Sorry. Damn it!’
She detected a twitch at the corner of the man’s mouth and giggled again. Tilting her head to scrutinise him, she came to a decision and hoped she didn’t sound like the desperate woman she was, as she asked in as steady a voice as she could muster, ‘Let me buy you a drink?’
‘Novel idea.’ He gave her another tight smile, but pulled up a bar stool and sat down next to her. ‘Are you always this forthright?’ He raised a hand to the bartender, who danced attendance immediately. ‘Allow me to buy the drinks, Miss Montrose, and maybe you could try something to eat,’ he said, pushing the bowl of olives into the pathway of lined-up drinks.
‘That would be very acceptable, thank you.’ Her voice was thick to her ears and she pondered how she could be feeling drunk quite so quickly. She picked up an olive by its plastic dagger and it immediately fell off and landed next to her glass, leaving a slimy trail of olive oil in its wake. She chased it around the bar top trying to spear it until it toppled over the edge onto the floor. Looking down at the floor forlornly, she lamented, ‘They’re buggers to catch, aren’t they?’ She abandoned her search for the escaped olive when she heard a rumble of laughter from the man whose name she had already forgotten. Pulling herself upright to examine his face, she wondered fleetingly why he had four eyes roaming around his eye sockets. She closed her own eyes and snapped them open again. Yes, her drinking partner was definitely an alien fly. She closed her eyes again and a horrible feeling of nausea washed over her.
Open. The alien fly was peering at her. She widened her eyes to keep them open. Focus on alien fly and hold that position, she thought.
The many-eyed fly ordered drinks in smooth Italian, nodding his gratitude to the bartender, who edged a tall glass of ice and a bottle of sparkling water towards her. Her new friend appeared to be amused by her and she didn’t know why. Her eyes hurt from trying to keep them wide open and she blinked rapidly in quick succession, earning another bout of alien-fly staring. The blinking brought the handsome man back into focus, though, and she was relieved to see that the fly had disappeared.
The man nudged the water closer to her elbow and she scowled, pushing it away in disgust. He simply shrugged and picked up his beer, chinking it against Sapphire’s glass of ice. ‘Per osservare le stelle. Sorry – I mean, here’s to your stargazing.’
‘My what? Oh, yes, stellar! Thank you, Captain Kirk.’ She was struggling to keep up with the conversation and realised that she’d already achieved what she’d set out to do and was now indeed very drunk. She poured water into her glass and drank deeply, concentrating on the man again, sad to see that the fly was back – although, to be fair, its eyes were strikingly dark and fringed by thick lashes. But four of them were just a few too many.
She breathed in deeply, focused very carefully, and slowly her normal vision returned, along with enough sense to know she shouldn’t drink any more alcohol.
Her companion took a sip of his beer. ‘You know, it’s very nice to meet you, but I can’t help thinking you would be better off in bed.’
Wow – he was a fast mover, she thought, as she gazed into his brooding eyes. She did a quick once over of the man: tall with a mop of dark silky hair, expensive looking suit, good olive coloured skin and enviable white teeth. Decision made, she threw back the last of her wine and coughed as it caught in her throat and dribbled down her chin. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she said, ‘Now that’s an interesting proposition.’ She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips and tried to make her eyes smoky, like the blonde in her boyfriend’s bed. Sadly, it just sent her vision out of focus once more.
She put out a tentative finger and traced it down the man’s tie, looping her thumb under it before yanking hard to draw him closer to her irresistible pouting lips. Or was it the woman in her boyfriend’s bed who had those – not stupid Sapphire, with her boring, un-kissable, devoid-of-shiny-pink-lip-gloss lips, and with absolutely no pulling power whatsoever?
The man grabbed her fingers and loosened her hold on him, setting her back on the stool. ‘Not a good trick, if you don’t mind me saying so.’
‘Whoops, sorry. It was supposed to be an enticement, not a garrotting.’ She swayed with laughter and almost toppled off her stool again, the effort of staying upright suddenly difficult.
‘Lady, it really is time you left my bar.’
‘I’m going, Captain – and my name is Sapphire.’ She saluted him as she climbed off her stool, fumbling for her bag. As she stood up she caught her heel in the foot rest and felt herself falling. She clutched at the bar top, her nails scraping as her stomach swooped with alarm ––
Marco Cavarelli was by her side in a second, his hand under her elbow, helping her to stay upright.
She winced as she righted herself, the room spinning on a different axis to her own. ‘Ooh, I didn’t think you could get drunk this quickly.’
‘You can if you try as hard as you did.’ He grabbed her arm as she teetered unsteadily on her heels.
‘I really don’t drink, you see.’
‘Your impression of a teetotaller is way off kilter, if you don’t mind me stating the obvious.’ He gripped her arm to pull her up and steady her. ‘Take a couple of painkillers with a glass of water before you go to bed – it makes all the difference,’ he instructed, his lips a tight line of disapproval.
The barman slid the bill over. ‘Just to keep the books straight, Signore.’
‘Of course, no problem.’ He let go of Sapphire and turned away from her to sign the chitty.
Sapphire suddenly couldn’t bear to see him go. It was so important that he stayed; that he understood she really, really didn’t want to be as drunk as she clearly was. ‘No, don’t go!’ She dashed a tear away as it rolled down her cheek, only for it to be replaced by another one.
Her rescuer sighed. ‘I don’t need another maiden in distress, you know.’ He ran a hand over his face, puffing out his cheeks, resigned as he turned to the barman. ‘Why can’t we just throw ’em over our shoulders and dump ’em somewhere, like we used to do back in the caveman days?’ He sighed and shook his head.
‘Si, Signor Cavarelli, she is trouble.’ The bartender waggled his head, weighing up the dilemma. He turned to Sapphire with a sigh, pointing at his boss and enunciating clearly. ‘He look after you.’
Sapphire was confused by the exchange, but she had sufficient brain cells still functioning to know she would never find her room unaided. She grabbed the bottle of champagne from the bar counter and waved it at the barman. ‘I don’t drink, you see.’
‘Had me fooled, that’s for sure,’ the barman said, winking at her.