Whisked Away By Her Sicilian Boss

During his early morning feast, his mother joined him before leaving for the hospital. After she went out to her car, he contacted the pilot to let him know they’d be returning to Milan shortly, then he arranged for a limo to come to the villa. Now all he needed was for the princess to make an appearance.

* * *

It was six-thirty in the morning when Tuccia finished writing three letters at the desk in the guest bedroom. The first was her deepest apology to Jean-Michel, explaining why she couldn’t marry him and had run away. They weren’t in love with each other, and that was the only reason for two people to marry.

She put it in an envelope with his name and address on the front. When and where to mail it was the scary part and had to be considered carefully because her life depended on it.

Tuccia put the letter in her purse, then wrote two long thank-you letters to her zia and Lina. She signed them with love before leaving them on top of the dresser so Lina would be certain to see them. One of these days she would write to her parents, but that could wait.

After making the bed, she grabbed the small suitcase Bertina had loaned her and hurried through the villa to the kitchen for a piece of fruit. A ten-minute walk would take her to the shops where she could eat something more substantial and catch a bus.

“Where do you think you’re going in that disguise?” a deep familiar male voice asked as she reached the foyer.

Her camouflage consisted of a scarf she’d tied around her head like a lot of local women did to cover their hair. She turned around to see the man she hadn’t been able to erase from her thoughts, standing there in jeans and a jacket. He looked too marvelous to her this early in the morning.

“I wanted to slip out before your mother awakened so I wouldn’t disturb her. I left messages to thank her and my aunt.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate that, Principessa.”

Of course he’d recognized her and had talked with Lina. Now he knew everything about her situation. She was so sorry he’d been dragged into her problem. “Your mother has been exceptionally kind to me. I’m embarrassed my zia asked for her assistance, and I’m ashamed I accepted it because it has placed her in danger.”

“Mamma has a big heart. It sounds like Signora Spadaro does, too.”

Tears glazed her eyes. “They’re both strong, remarkable women, but they’ve done more than enough to help me. It’s time I dealt with the mess I’ve created for myself.”

She tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t give. Tuccia looked over her shoulder. “Is there a trick to unlocking it?”

With a half smile that gave her heart a jolt, he activated the remote in his hand and the door swung open.

“Thank you.” After a slight hesitation, she said, “It was a privilege to meet the famous son of Lina Donati. In case you didn’t know it, she thinks the sun rises and sets with you.”

Tuccia felt him follow her out the door into the balmy seventy-seven-degree air where a limousine had pulled in the drive. She put on her sunglasses. Apparently he was going somewhere. When she would have walked past it, he called to her.

“Mamma says you need to get out of Palermo immediately. If you’ll climb in the limo, I have the means to make that happen.”

His comment stopped her in her tracks. “You mustn’t get involved in my problem. I’m already weighed down with guilt and couldn’t handle any more.”

He opened the rear door. “But I am involved. I don’t believe I’ve ever helped a genuine princess in distress before and rather like the idea. Come on. You’ve been living dangerously since leaving Paris. Why stop now?”

His sense of humor caught her off guard and she chuckled in spite of the fear gripping her that this freedom couldn’t last. Not wanting to hold things up, she climbed in. He set her suitcase on the bank of seats in front of them and sat next to her, pulling the door shut. His rock-hard limbs brushed against her jeans-clad legs. The contact sent a dart of awareness through her body.

She heard him tell the chauffeur to drive them to the airport. They drove through a breathtaking portion of Mondello to the main route leading out of the city. Tuccia had the sensation of being spirited away where nothing could hurt her.

It was a heavenly feeling she’d never experienced before. She’d sell her soul for it to last, but she knew this wonderful moment could only be enjoyed until they reached the airport.

“Where are we going?” she asked at last, alive to everything about this extraordinary man.

“To Milan.”

“Where you work when you’re not in New York.”

“More importantly, it’s where you’ll be safe. I fear my mother has done far too much talking about me.”

“That’s because she loves you.” Tuccia had heard about the spectacular castello restaurant he owned and ran with his business partners. His other business interests in New York City were legendary. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to know that kind of love from my own parents.”

“That’s a lonely statement.”

“Now I’m doing too much talking and sound so sorry for myself, I’m ashamed. But you have no idea what I’d give to erase the image the country has of me. I’m not the tempestuous, volatile woman everyone believes me to be. I just want to be free like other women to make the kind of life I want for myself.”

“According to my mother, you’ve run away from a fate worse than death.”

“Put that way it sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? Unfortunately it’s true for me and I’ve dragged three innocent people into my personal disaster. I pray there won’t be any repercussions for you,” she half sobbed the words.

His hand grasped hers, sending a wave of warmth through her. “No one brought my mother and me kicking and screaming,” he teased gently. “If I were in your shoes and betrothed to some odious marchesa twice my age, I can promise you I would flee to the other side of the universe where no one would ever find me.”

Odious was the exact word to describe Jean-Michel.

The analogy was so ludicrous she found herself laughing. But it underlined the fact that Cesare Donati wasn’t married. Tuccia couldn’t help but wonder how many women must have flung themselves at him.

“That’s better,” he said before releasing her hand.

Soon they arrived at the airport and were driven to the area where the private jets sat on the tarmac. The limo wound around and stopped next to one in silver and blue that stood out with a coat of arms depicting the Duc di Lombardi. A thrill of excitement passed through her to know she’d be flying to northern Italy with him. Just the two of them.

Once Cesare helped her out of the limo with her suitcase, the steward welcomed them aboard. He showed her to the elegant club compartment where she sat across from her protector as she thought of him. Pretty soon the Fasten Seat Belt light went on and she heard the scream of the engines as they taxied out to the runway.

After they’d taken off and achieved cruising speed, the light went off and the steward brought them breakfast trays. She found she was starving and ate everything, including a second cup of coffee to drink.

Cesare flashed her a searching glance. “How long has it been since you had a substantial meal?”

“My aunt kept trying to feed me after I arrived in Palermo, but I was so nervous I couldn’t eat very much. Now I’m hungry.”

“How did you manage your escape so perfectly when all of your other attempts have failed?”

“I can see my aunt has told your mother everything about my past.” Tuccia heaved a sigh. “I’ve been planning this latest scheme since my first dress fitting two months ago. Yesterday morning I went to the dressmaker with my mother for the final wedding dress fitting.

“When Madame Dufy went to find the dressmaker and bring out my gown, I told my mother I needed to use the ladies’ room and hurried down the hallway. As soon as no one was in sight, I shot out the back door of the salon. I knew there was a nearby tête de taxi. From there I was driven to the airport where Bertina had chartered a private jet for me ahead of time under a fake name. And here I am.”

His gaze held hers. “That was a daring plan.”

“I’m sure you think me selfish and cruel, but it was the only way to end the nightmare of my life. I’ve written a letter to Jean-Michel to apologize. It’s all ready to be mailed except for a stamp.”

“Where is it?”

“In my purse.”

“May I see it?”

When she pulled it out, he walked over and took it from her. After examining the address, he put it in his pocket. “I’ll make sure he gets it without the police being able to trace it.”