Elegant Death by Beate Boeker

Author:Beate Boeker [Boeker, Beate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Temptation in Florence #7
Publisher: Beate Boeker
Published: 2018-03-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Carlina turned her head and looked into the direction Aunt Violetta had indicated. A man had come through the revolving glass door and now looked around. He wore the tightest trousers she had ever seen since Freddy Mercury and a pair of kid gloves, plus a fluttering scarf.

Benito Bellini met her gaze, and his face broke into a smile. He came to her with his hands outstretched. “Signora Garini! And signor Garini! What a nice surprise.”

Aunt Violetta stared at him as if she'd seen an apparition. “You know him?” she whispered out of a corner of her mouth.

Carlina grinned. “Mamma, Aunt Violetta, this is Benito Bellini. He's the director of marketing at Camicie Di Silva. We met through our current project.” She took the time to give them both a significant glance, so they wouldn't tell Benito Bellini any details that would blow their cover. “Won't you join us for a moment, signor Bellini?”

“Thank you, I'd like that. And call me Benito, please.” He pulled up one of the brocade chairs and folded his long frame into it. “I'm here to meet someone, but he hasn't yet come.” Then he gave a sign to the waiter. “A dry Martini, please, with one leaf of lemon balm.”

“Lemon balm?” Fabbiola blinked. “Don't you combine martinis with olives?”

Benito waved a languid hand. “That's so passé, dear. Lemon balm gives a truly surprising accent to your martini, like vanilla ice-cream with pumpkin seed oil. You should try it.”

“Proprio no!” Fabbiola shook herself.

Benito grinned. “So are you planning to go to dinner later on?”

“Yes, we are.” Stefano nodded. “But we thought we'd enjoy the atmosphere of Milan here first.”

Benito nodded. “A good choice. I'm not saying anything against Florence, you know, but Milan, of course, is a lot more cosmopolitan.”

Fabbiola sat up straight and opened her mouth, but before she could utter a word, Aunt Violetta cut in. “My thoughts exactly. Nobody who's used to Milan could live in Florence.”

Fabbiola blinked.

Benito smiled at Aunt Violetta. “I see we're soul-mates,” he said. “But that's no surprise, considering our history.”

“Oh, no, not again,” Stefano said under his breath.

Aunt Violetta, however, didn't blink and bent forward, dropping her voice suggestively. “Our history is just about to start.” She winked at him as if she were a dashing twenty and he the same age.

Carlina opened her eyes wide.

“Not quite, my dear.” Benito looked into her eyes, lifted his glass and toasted to her. “We're just continuing where we left off when our enemies so cruelly separated us in 1789.”

Fabbiola stared at him, then looked at Carlina and Stefano. “Is he drunk?”

“No.” Carlina suppressed a smile.

Fabbiola turned back to Benito who only had eyes for Aunt Violetta. “What do you mean by 1789?”

“The French revolution, of course. It was in Paris, and--”

“Are you trying to tell me that in a former life, you were the lover of Aunt Violetta in France?”

Benito winced. “At the time, we used a more genteel expression.”

“Genteel, my foot.” Fabbiola poked Aunt Violetta into the ribs.

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