Sicilian's Baby Of Shame

‘Sultan?’ Bastiano asked. He and Alim were friends. The Grande Lucia was Bastiano’s favoured hotel when in Rome, and he and Alim often painted the town a rich shade of red but, despite lavish spending and wild ways, as far as Bastiano knew, Alim had always kept his royal status under wraps as best he could.

‘We only found out that he was royal a few months ago,’ Sophie revealed. ‘His family came to stay and so of course the desk staff soon worked it out.’ She thought for a moment. ‘He’s a good boss.’

‘In what way?’ Bastiano asked. He liked to hear the things that were important to staff, and knew that that sort of information could not readily be gleaned from a questionnaire or an appraisal. He didn’t want to admit it, but he also just liked hearing her thoughts.

‘He knows all of his staff by name,’ Sophie said. ‘And he is fair and kind. There was a Christmas meal and gift for all the staff who were working over the festive season.’ She was silent for a moment as she thought back to that lonely day—coming to work had been the brightest part.

‘How long have you worked here?’ Bastiano asked.

‘For nearly ten months. I’ve been in Rome for just over a year.’ Sophie thought back to when she had first arrived and how nervous she had been, for she had never spent so much as a night away from home until then. ‘It took a few weeks to find a job. I would have taken anything, but then I came for my interview and I wanted to work here so badly. I never thought I would get it as there was two months’ training involved, but Benita took me on.’

‘Benita?’

‘The head of housekeeping,’ Sophie explained. ‘It is so much better than my old job.’

‘I guess working at a bakery would have meant many early starts?’

‘So early!’ Sophie nodded and rolled her eyes. ‘The shifts here are much better and the staff are really friendly. Well,’ she added, thinking of Inga, ‘most of them are.’

‘Most?’

‘There is always the odd person that you don’t get on with in any workplace.’ Sophie shrugged. ‘I enjoy working here; I can’t believe my luck really. It is, for me, the perfect job.’

‘Why?’

‘I like order,’ Sophie said. ‘I like things to be neat and tidy. When I see a suite such as yours, I itch to have it back as it should be.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really.’ She nodded her head in the direction of the chair. ‘I would have that jacket hanging up and that shirt put away.’ Then she looked back at him. ‘I would have that bed made, even with you in it...’ And she hesitated. It was something that she often said as a joke to guests, usually the ones on the twelfth floor when she shooed them out to service their room.

It was not something that would ever be said to a guest such as Bastiano; he would never be shooed out, even jokingly.

It was not just that thought that had her pause, it was more a sudden awareness of their situation that silenced her.

Yet she had let the words out, and they were how she felt.

Not so much a neat bed, of course, more the thoughts that were there—an emerging awareness that made the room feel a little warmer.

Bastiano said nothing, just held her unblinking gaze until she spoke on.

‘It really is the perfect job. Sometimes people ask me what I want to be, or they ask if I am working while studying, but I want only this—I’m happy now.’

‘That’s a very good place to be,’ Bastiano said, though he couldn’t fathom it for himself. The more he had the more he wanted, the more he achieved the further the goal seemed to stretch. ‘Do you miss your family and friends?’

‘I’ve made some friends...’ She thought of her flatmates and though they were not particularly close she got on well with them. And Sophie thought of Gabi, a wedding planner, who she had met on her first weekend here and had got on with straight away.

Usually Bastiano would leave it there. In fact, usually it would never have reached this point, for sitting in bed and chatting with a woman was not something Bastiano did regularly.

Regularly? Ha! Ever.

Yet he found he wanted to know her better.

‘Do you miss home?’ Bastiano asked, carefully rewording his question.

‘Sometimes,’ she admitted. ‘But if I was still there...’ Sophie stopped what she was about to say and put down her cutlery, even though her meal was not finished. The conversation was edging towards topics that she usually kept closed.

Her newly made friends knew little about her. To them she was Sophie, twenty-four years old and happily single.

They had no idea how hard she had fought and how much she had given up to achieve such a small victory.

‘If you were there?’ Bastiano pushed, and now he was fishing—he really did want to know more about her.

She was about to stand, to end the conversation and get on with her day. Return to the real world.

Surprisingly, she found she liked this one.

Sophie liked the peace in his bedroom and the ease with which she spoke with this man.

She thought of his kind smile when she had realised he’d heard her swear. It had been a smile that had spoken of mutual understanding and a familiarity with the ways back home.

Something told her that he would...understand.

And though she had in the main been happy, it had also been a lonely twelve months.

‘I was engaged to be married,’ Sophie admitted. ‘Had I stayed, tomorrow would have been my first wedding anniversary.’

‘Had you stayed?’ Bastiano verified. ‘So it was you who ended it?’

‘In a very mature and thoughtful way.’ Sophie nodded and then she gave a small laugh that told him she was joking about handling things in an adult fashion. ‘I ran away, if it is possible to run away from home when you are twenty-three. A month before the wedding I took a train to Rome and when I got here I called my parents and told them that I would not be marrying Luigi.’

He laughed at her explanation, although not unkindly—it was a deep, low laugh that was almost enough reward in itself for that awful phone call she had made to her parents.

Something told Sophie that he did not laugh easily, that what was happening this morning between them was both delicious and rare.

And then that low laugh faded, like a roll of soft thunder moving through her.

Lightning had already struck, Sophie realised.

She was here alone in his room and it was exactly where she wanted to be.

‘Have you been back home since?’ he asked, seemingly unaware of the dance in her mind. Sophie was terribly grateful for the resumption of conversation, and answered hurriedly for her thoughts were all over the place.

‘No, it was a big disgrace. I expected them to be cross but when it came to my birthday and my mother would not even come to the phone I realised just how bad things were.’

‘When was your birthday?’ he asked.

‘A few months after I ran away.’ She told him the date. ‘It was pretty miserable.’